25. Cohen
Cohen
Iwas dead asleep, dreaming of a very different version of Christmas night with Ava, when the loud vibration of my phone against the nightstand jolted me awake. I blinked toward the clock.
I sat up, dragging a hand down my face, trying to wipe away the remnants of sleep. My phone buzzed again in my hand.
Scott.
Scott Fisher had been my agent for most of my career. My first agent had pulled some shady crap and cared more about his own commission than my future. Walker had referred me to Scott after that mess—his longtime guy. He was steady and honest. Best decision I ever made.
I swiped to answer. “Seriously, Scott? Why are you calling me this early?”
He laughed. “Sorry. I’m on the East Coast—forgot about the time difference.” His tone shifted. “Anyway, this couldn’t wait. Boston offered five years, one hundred and thirty-five million. Full no-trade clause. They’re serious. And they’re impatient.”
The sleep evaporated instantly. I was in free agency. I’d expected calls. I’d expected interest… but I wasn’t prepared for that.
Boston had knocked us out in the ALDS. Made a World Series run and fallen short. They were a top-tier organization—legacy, prestige, championship culture. This would be my last major contract. I planned to retire in five years and to go out on my terms.
“No shit?” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
“They think you’re the solution,” Scott continued. “Shortstop is their weak spot. They see you as the difference-maker.”
Well damn. Way to make a guy feel wanted.
Boston wasn’t just a team. It was a statement.
A place where careers leveled up, a place you cemented legacy.
I loved playing for the Aviators. I loved this city.
But Boston? Boston meant another ring. A real shot at it next season.
With Walker gone and our pitching staff rebuilding, I wasn’t sure we had that same window. On paper, this deal was a no-brainer.
But as Scott rattled off details my mind drifted.
To Ava.
My home base wouldn’t be the apartment above hers anymore.
It would be in a different state… two thousand miles away.
But maybe the distance would finally loosen the chokehold she had on my heart.
She’d made it clear at Christmas that friendship was what she wanted with me.
She wanted stability and safety… and I respected that.
Maybe the distance was the safest option for both of us.
I wasn’t sure I could survive trying and failing with her.
Not when failing meant losing her completely.
As much as I wanted Ava, I wasn’t sure I could be the man she needed, the man she deserved.
Then my thoughts shifted to Ellie, my baby girl.
The love I’d never seen coming. I wouldn’t be able to swing by daycare between workouts and breaks in practice.
I wouldn’t catch her before bed on nights I flew home from a road series.
I wouldn’t be there for the small, quiet moments.
The ones that mattered just as much as the big ones. I’d miss things, I'd miss firsts.
But this contract would set her up for life. Generational security.
I cut Scott off. “Have the Aviators come to the table yet?”
“Not yet. I was going to notify them after I spoke with you. But, Cohen…” He hesitated. “You know Boston’s payroll flexibility. Don’t get your hopes up about a match.”
I scrubbed a hand across my jaw and exhaled slowly.
He isn’t wrong.
The Aviators were in a soft rebuild. Ownership might not want to commit five years at that number to a thirty-year-old shortstop, even if I was still in my prime.
“All right,” I said finally. “Let me know what they come back with. How long do I have?”
“They want a decision within a week. I’ll call the Aviators as soon as we hang up.”
“Thanks, Scott.”
“No problem. And Cohen?”
“Yeah?”
“This is a good thing.”
A year ago, it would’ve been. A great thing, actually. A dream move. The kind of offer you didn’t hesitate over.
But now? Now it felt like something else entirely… not an opportunity, but a choice.
And for the first time in my career, the smartest move felt like the riskiest.
After talking to Scott, I called Drake to see if he could meet up for a beer.
I needed someone to talk to. When I got to the brewery we usually frequented, I found him already seated at a picnic table underneath a large oak.
I sank down onto the bench seat across from him and he slid a beer across the table.
"What's up? You sounded… stressed." He cocked a brow at me.
I glanced down at the glass between my hands, nodding. "Yeah. You could say I'm a bit stressed."
Drake took a pull of the amber liquid from his glass. "Okay. Spill it."
I blew out a breath. "Scott called this morning. Boston offered five years, one hundred and thirty-five million."
Drake whistled low. "Shit. That's a hell of a contract. I assume no trade clause?"
I nodded.
"What are you going to do? Have the Aviators countered yet?"
I shook my head. "Not yet. Scott is talking with them today." I ran a hand through my hair. "I don't know what I'm going to do. Ellie and Ava are here. But this would be my last major contract of my career, this would set her up for life."
Drake was quiet for a moment. "Ellie and Ava?"
I hadn't realized I said Ava out loud.
"Are you factoring Ava into this decision?" Drake pressed.
I looked away. "Yes? No? I don't know?" I laid my forehead against the wooden table in defeat. "I think I have real feelings for her. I care about her a lot and I can't get her out of my goddamn head. I don't want to just be friends with her, man."
"What does she want?"
"She made it clear at Christmas she values our friendship too much to ruin it. How we already almost ruined it a few times this year. That we need to protect it for Ellie. But I think over time she will see we could work. I just need more time to prove it to her…" I trailed off.
Drake sighed, spinning his glass between his hands.
"What?" I asked.
"Last year when I was a free agent, New York offered me six years, one hundred and thirty-two million. Full no-trade clause. The whole package."
My eyes widened in surprise. "Damn, I didn't realize that. So did the Aviators counter with more?"
He shook his head. "No. They came to the table with a good deal for sure, but still a little less than New York.
But that wasn't surprising; just like Boston, New York has a larger salary cap and more flexibility.
Plus, we still had Walker on the roster at the time and with his retirement announcement they needed some space to trade for pitchers.
New York would have put me closer to my family in Connecticut. It was the ideal next move for me. "
"So why did you stay?"
"Because of Elle. She promised that if we stayed in Austin, she would adjust her work schedule and travel less. She would prioritize our relationship. We would get back to how we used to be." He forced out a humorless laugh. "But as you are well aware… nothing has changed."
"I'm sorry, man. That's tough."
He nodded, lifting his eyes to mine. “Just make sure you’re staying for something real. Not for what you hope it could be.” He paused. “I don’t regret staying in Austin. I love this city, and I love our team… but I regret staying for a promise.”
I let his words sit between us as I processed his warning.
Was that what I was doing? Staying for what I hoped Ava and I could be? Because to Drake's point, there was a very real possibility nothing would ever evolve between us. That Ava could decide to never cross that line, let her walls down permanently and let me in.
Drake's eyes scanned the brewery lawn like he was replaying the season in his head. “You know what nobody talks about when they throw numbers like that around?” he said finally.
“What?”
“The quiet.”
I frowned. “The quiet?”
“Yeah.” He gestured vaguely. “The hotel rooms. The nights after a loss. Hell, the nights after a win. The off days in a city that isn’t home. When you’re thirty and your body hurts and you start wondering if you picked the right place to finish this thing.”
I swallowed.
He took another drink. “You think five years is a long time. It’s not. It’s the blink of an eye. And when it’s over? You’ve got the rest of your life staring back at you.”
I stared at the condensation sliding down my glass.
“I told myself I was staying for love,” Drake went on. “That I was choosing happiness. Choosing my relationship. But if I’m being honest?” His jaw ticked. “I was afraid to start over somewhere else. Afraid to admit things weren’t as solid as I wanted them to be.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?” I asked quietly.
“I think you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said bluntly. “And that scares you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I scrubbed a hand across my jaw. “Boston is a sure thing. Five years. No-trade. Competitive roster. It’s the smart move.”
“Is it what you want?”
“I don’t know,” I answered quietly, eyes casted back down at the table.
Drake watched me for a long beat. “When you picture signing that contract… what’s the first thing you feel?”
I didn’t answer immediately. Because I had pictured it. The press conference. The handshake. The jersey swap. The headlines. Legacy secured.
But what came after that?
An apartment overlooking a new city. A city where I didn't know a soul. Video calls with Ellie instead of bedtime stories. Watching her lose teeth through a screen. Holidays scheduled around road trips.
And Ava.
Her standing in the doorway of her office, arms folded like she was bracing for impact. Her pretending she was fine… because she always did. Her telling me she understood.
She would find out soon enough, when they would tell her to draft an offer for me.
I thought back to Christmas when she finally let me see over the wall.
The hurt reflected in her eyes as she detailed her past. Never chosen.
Never first choice. And the fucked-up part?
Ava would be the one to put together a contract to get me to stay.
To get me to choose Austin. To choose her.
Or at least that was how I was sure she would see it.
I lifted my eyes back to Drake. “Loss,” I admitted.
Drake’s expression shifted. “Loss?” he repeated.
“It feels like…” I hesitated, trying to articulate the tightness in my chest. “Like I’d be winning something but losing something bigger.”
He nodded once, slow. “That’s the part nobody can calculate for you.”
I blew out a breath. “And staying feels like gambling.”
“On what?”
“On her. On us. On something that isn’t even guaranteed.”
Drake leaned forward, forearms on the table. “You’re not gambling if you know it’s what you want.”
“That’s the problem,” I shot back. “It’s what I want, but will it ever be what she wants? She’s terrified of crossing that line. If I stay and she never—” I broke off.
“Never loves you back?” Drake finished.
I looked away. Love. Is that what this was about?
“Cohen,” he said carefully, “you can’t make a career decision hoping someone else might change. Trust me. I did that.”
“I know.”
“But you also can’t make it pretending she doesn’t matter.”
Silence settled between us again.
A group of guys at another table erupted into laughter. A dog barked somewhere near the food trucks. Life kept moving around us like my world wasn’t tilting on its axis.
“I keep thinking about Ellie,” I said finally. “This sets her up. College, investments, everything.”
Drake gave me a pointed look. “She’s already set up. You’ve been smart. This just makes the number bigger.”
I knew that. But bigger felt safer, more insulated. It was insurance against the kind of loss I’d grown up with.
Drake’s voice softened. “Are you trying to protect Ellie’s future… or protect yourself from regret… from another loss?”
That landed square in my chest.
Because the truth? I was terrified that years from now, after retirement, I’d be left wondering if I’d left something on the table when it came to my career. But I was just as terrified of realizing I’d walked away from something that mattered more.
A family.
Drake pushed his empty glass aside. “You want my advice?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t sign somewhere because you’re afraid to stay. And don’t stay somewhere because you’re afraid to leave.” He held my gaze. “Choose the life you actually want to live. Not the one that looks best on paper.”
The life I actually want.
I huffed a laugh. "That literally told me nothing."
"You know what they say about tough decisions, buddy." Drake stood, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You won't know whether your choice is right or wrong until you make it. It’s time you make your decision, Coh." He headed toward the bar to grab another round, leaving me alone under the oak tree.
I stared out at the skyline, barely visible beyond the brewery fence.
Boston looked powerful, Austin felt personal.
Five years was everything… five years was also nothing. The decision in front of me wasn’t just about baseball. It was about who I wanted to be when the game was over.