Thinking of her admissions on the phone and on the swings, I smiled.
“Trust me,” I told them, “I have no intention of hurting Adaline.”
“You might not have a choice,” Parker added. “You planning to move anytime soon?”
My jaw clenched.
Again, Greer’s eyes were full of sympathy.
Because Parker played too, he was aware of how little I had in my control until my contract was up. It was true that I’d never seriously considered moving home to play for Washington.
It was easy not to consider it—when you were settled in a team that was doing well.
But for her, I would make that change. It didn’t hurt to explore my options.
Parker pointed at me. “What is that face?”
Greer looked back and forth between us. “What face?”
“Emmett,” he said in a voice full of warning. “I know that look. You’re about to do something stupid.”
I smiled. “It’s only stupid if I don’t take a chance.”
“Oh, fuck,” Parker muttered.
“What?” Greer said. “What are you talking about?”
Neither of us answered. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the number I was looking for.
Me: Mary, my favorite of all the front office employees. How are you?
Mary: What do you need, Emmett? It’s a Saturday, and flattery will get you nowhere.
Me: Ned’s back from Mexico, right? Can you put me on his schedule for a meeting next week?
Mary: He is, but he’s leaving Monday afternoon again. Greece for a month. If you can do an 8am meeting on Monday, I could squeeze you in. He won’t like it, but he’ll be here anyway to sign a few things before he’s out of town again.
“Shit,” I whispered. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I’d have to leave a day early. Suddenly, everything felt just a bit more precarious than it had that morning. I couldn’t clearly envision how any of this would play out, and I hated it.
That uncertainty had me grasping onto the only thing I could control.
I could ask if Ned was open to a trade offer from another team.
I didn’t know anything else.
Not if Washington would even be one of those teams. Or if Adaline would think I’d lost my fucking mind by taking this step without any explicit encouragement from her.
It was, without a doubt, the biggest gesture I could make.
And it was completely insane.
“You asked, didn’t you?” Parker moaned.
“I’ve got a meeting with him.”
“He agreed? He never takes a meeting with players because that idiot doesn’t want to know what we have to say.”
Greer sat forward. “Asked what? Meeting with who?”
He shook his head. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing, Greer.”
“Am I, though? Because I hate not knowing things.”
I tuned them out. I had to.
There was so much chatter around every move I made. And part of my job was blocking that out and focusing on what I needed to do. It was my job to listen to the voices that mattered and trust my gut when those voices didn’t offer me any clarity.
Me: I’ll take it.
Mary: You’re on the schedule, kid.
Mary: He likes to know what the meeting is about. What should I put in for the agenda?