Chapter 7 #2
Rhys savored the coffee as he drove to the clubhouse. He’d thought maybe the barista was trying to prank him by making something disgusting. He’d been tempted to tell them he liked things a little fruity. He didn’t know if they would have taken it as a joke. But, it was delicious.
Too bad he’d had to notice the time.
Of course he’d be running late. Whatever reason the skipper had for calling this meeting would probably be doubled.
Even tripled, knowing his luck. He wasn’t even going to have time for another cup of coffee to fortify himself before going in there.
Shit. He needed to get in there.
Rhys took a sip of the coffee before stepping out of his car and walking toward the clubhouse.
He was putting off the inevitable. They couldn’t be happy with his performance in the last series.
Hell, Rhys wasn’t even happy with it. He just wasn’t sure exactly what to do to turn it around. Not when everything was falling apart.
He gulped down the rest of the coffee. He’d regret that. He just hoped it would give him enough strength to get through whatever was coming. That he wouldn’t crash until after practice.
He tossed the cup into the garbage and headed into the clubhouse. Not many people were around yet. Alfie stood on the other side of the lounge, and he hesitated. He could talk to him later. It wasn’t like Alfie wanted him, and he needed to remember that, before he ruined their friendship.
The lounge was quiet, although weights clanked from the training room. If only he could go there instead of this meeting. He couldn’t put it off any longer. Rhys turned toward the offices, giving a quick rap with his knuckles against the skipper’s door.
“Come in, Molson,” Andrew Turner called out.
Rhys pushed the door open. “How’d you know it was me?”
The skipper let out a low laugh. “You’re the only one with a rhythmic knock like that. Also the only one I asked to meet with me before practice. Have a seat.”
He shut the door and started toward one of the chairs on this side of Turner’s desk. Only one other person stood in the office with them. He let out a groan and flopped down into the chair. “Why’d the shrink have to join us?”
Brady sent a flash of a grin his way, but he didn’t say anything, continuing to lean against the wall.
Turner folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward.
“I want to know what’s going on with you, Molson.
You may act like a goofball in the clubhouse, but when we’re in the field, you’ve always been a steadying presence.
That’s not what I saw while we were in Massachusetts. What’s going on?”
What was going on? He was letting everyone down. The same way he always did. The way everyone had said he always would. He didn’t know why that still came as a surprise to anyone.
He swallowed those words and the lump in his throat along with them and forced a smile. “Just a little off my game. I promise, I’ll hit it out of the park this week.”
His puns earned him a half eye roll from Turner, though Brady’s cough sounded like it covered up a laugh.
“I’m being serious, Rhys. If you need something from us, you should know all you have to do is ask.”
And have them see exactly how screwed up he was?
That they’d made a mistake to trade for him in the first place.
Definitely to call him up this far. The Steel Suns had been right to only keep him for a couple games the previous season.
They’d seen that during spring training and made sure he came back down here. He was never getting a chance again.
None of that is true. A voice he hadn’t heard in too long. Simon. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was the only one who had believed in Rhys, and even he’d gone away.
It wasn’t enough to shut out the voices of everyone else in his life, pointing out every time he screwed up. When he looked back at Turner, he could see the concern in his eyes. That hit harder than disappointment would have.
“I’m fine,” Rhys said. “I don’t need anything.
Except to get back out onto the field.” Once he could crouch behind the plate, everything would be fine.
He always fell apart like this when he didn’t have baseball to hold him together.
But, during the off season, no one else had to see it.
Not when the rest of the team dispersed and even Alfie was down in Venezuela for several weeks.
“I don’t believe you,” Turner said bluntly, and his gaze shifted to Brady.
Rhys wasn’t sure what passed between the two men, but when Turner looked at him again, his jaw was set.
Rhys’s stomach sank further. “After practice, you have an appointment with Brady. If he’s satisfied with your mental state, you could be on the lineup tomorrow.
If he thinks it’s best, you’ll be benched.
Get your shit sorted out, Molson. This team needs you. ”
Rhys pressed his lips together, but he nodded his head. No point in arguing with it, not when Turner had made up his mind. It was fine,. He’d had plenty of experience bullshitting a therapist growing up. He’d practically majored in bullshit before he’d even gone to college.
This would be fine. “I need to change for practice. Can I go now?”
Turner nodded and Rhys practically lunged out of the chair. He needed some space and some air, before he showed just how not fine he really was.