Page 5 of SALT

"You know I'm not walking away. Mackenzie landed the biggest job of her career, and it happened to be an hour outside of Jupiter. She'll be down there till August." Connor married his wife, Mackenzie, earlier this year. To say he's obsessed would be an understatement, but I am surprised he's not making accommodations for travel. I'm sure Mackenzie offered to come home on weekends, and the flight from Illinois to Florida is short. It's not an ideal weekly commute, but it could be done. What he's built here is his passion. "Are you having second thoughts about helping me? I understand if you've changed your mind after that crash course I gave you yesterday. It's a lot–"

"No, Connor," I turn away from the window. "I haven't had a change of heart. I know how important this is to you. Plus, it's not like I can't work from here." I gesture toward his desk.

He takes a sharp breath and raises his eyebrows. "You realize you won't be able to work in here all day, right? The team practices three hours per day, four days a week."

"You share this office with your assistant coaches. Is that what you're getting at?"

"No, Dad." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I do share this office with the assistant managers somewhat. My office is always open, and they use this space as needed to work, but Dad…" He rocks back on his heels and nods toward the field. "You realize part of filling in for me means you're the head coach for the season, right?"

Shit. When I agreed to help Connor for the summer, I gave him my answer before I even had a chance to think through what it fully entailed. Our relationship has been strained since his mother and I divorced. We've been making progress over the past year, but it has yet to return to what it once was. Hell, maybe it never will, but a father can hope. That's why I didn't hesitate. I never make snap decisions, but he's my son. There was no chance I was going to say no. However, had I thought this through, I may have made some concessions. For starters, hiring a head coach for the summer.

"Connor, you realize I haven't played baseball since high school. I'm a lawyer. I'm not a damn coach. You're going to Jupiter to secure backing for a Florida location and expand your organization. You don't want your home team, which sent three players to the major leagues last year, to be run into the ground in its debut season at the new stadium. You realize how big this is, right?"

"Dad, I've thought about all of this. I considered hiring someone for the summer, but I don't trust anyone else with this. You're my blood, and you have a vested interest in seeing that this doesn't fail..." His hand squeezes the back of his neck. "And at the end of the day, you're also the man who taught me everything I know, and I don't mean business. My love for baseball, the passion came from endless summers of playing catch with you, going to games and watching baseball on the floor of your office while you worked. You're not as out of touch as you think, you're definitely not out of shape, and you have my assistant coaches…" He runs his hand through his hair, and I see his stress. I know this isn't easy for him. If it hadn't been for Mackenzie landing that job in Florida, he probably would have waited another year or so before trying to expand. Even then, there's no way he would spend any time away from his new wife, and since Jupiter was always part of his long-term goals, he made it happen sooner rather than later. I can't fault him for his dedication and tenacity. He's pouring himself into this the same way I poured myself into starting Callahan & Associates. The anxiety written all over his features, coupled with the plea in his tone, tells me there will be no hiring of another coach, but to ensure I do things his way and not mine, he adds, "You want the old us back. I need this." His words are now a challenge as much as they are a plea.

My eyes hold his, and my answer is quick and sure. "Done."

His eyes narrow slightly on mine as though he's waiting for me to add some stipulation. I'm a lawyer through and through. There's always an argument to be had and terms to negotiate, but now I'm quiet, which I know makes him uneasy, especially when that's the last thing I've been lately. I've forced his hand enough over the past year. It's only fair he forces mine.

When I give him no words, he says, "Let's officially meet the team. I wanted to give you the lay of the land yesterday, run you through a day in my shoes, before I officially introduced you." He pauses, holding the door for me before grabbing my shoulder. "Had to make sure you were still all in."

The second we start down the steps toward the field, I spot her. Cameron Salt. She's a damn beacon with her copper-red hair shimmering in the sun.Running into her was inevitable seeingashow she lives under my roof, but I didn't expect to see her here.I told her last night we'd talk, but she was up and out of the house before I came downstairs. Kicking her out of the house is the last thing I want to do, so when she skipped out on our morning conversation to discuss the matter, I started devising a carefully constructed schedule that ensured our paths didn't cross, and now that's already gone to shit. I mentally begin ticking off the seconds it takes for her to turn around and notice I'm here. She always notices. It's as though she has a sixth sense for detecting when I'm near. However, before I can count more than two seconds, a familiar voice on the field calls out, "Mine," garnering my attention as he catches a pop fly.

You've got to be kidding me. "Parker Michaelson is on the team?"

"He technically made the team last year. The only reason he got benched and worked the concession stands instead was because he was appeasing his dickhead college coach. As much as I hate to admit it, Parker is good. It's why his coach didn't want him playing for me. His coach wanted the credit if he got scouted."

"What changed? I know he didn't drop out." His father, Kipp, wouldn't allow it, and neither would my ex-wife, who is now his stepmother.

"His coach took another job. I'm confident he'll get picked up by a feeder team this summer."

Great. Ialreadywasn't thrilled to be coaching this summer, but Parker Michaelson being on the team adds a layer of complication I don't need, and I don't mean my ex-wife. Moira would be the lesser evil in this equation. When I left town the day after Connor's wedding, Parker and Cameron had become an item, and seeing as how she's here, it would appear that is still true. The last thing I need is another reason for our paths to cross. My first decree as head coach will be no girlfriends at the stadium during practice. Family and friends can come during games. Practices will be closed to the public. Period.

"Coach, I didn't know it was bring your parents to work week," Parker goads as he elbows one of the players next to him, who I can already tell I'm going to like because, unlike Parker, he doesn't find the comment entertaining.

I stay quiet as I slowly rake my eyes over every player, carefully assessing their form and aptitude. Baseball isn't just about hitting and fielding. You have to be able to read the game, and part of that is reading people. Parker demonstrated these abilities at one point. It's why I trusted him and his older brother, Elijah, with family secrets, even though they are not my blood. However,it's clear thatthe maturity I thought he possessed was selective. He disagrees with how I handle my business, but what he hasn't put together is that I don't care. I don't seek anyone's approval when I make decisions. I make them because they are right. If he wants to keep being obstinate, it will only make his season harder. His immaturity is already proving to be his weakness. He can't see past his personal feelings enough to put together that there must be a valid reason I'm here today when I haven't been home in months.

"Bulldogs, listen up. I have an announcement. We are expanding, as some of you may have heard through the rumor mill. It was always part of the plan. Having a facility in Jupiter puts us next to the big boys during spring training every year. It makes it convenient for coaches and scouts to visit our stadium and discover our talent. While I wish the timing could be better?—"

"So, then it's true. You're leaving for the season," number seventeen interjects as a few players harrumph and mutter a few curses under their breath.

"As I was trying to say, the timing isn't perfect, but the deal is now, and I can't walk away, especially when it means more visibility for players in the long run. Coach Teague and Coach Denver will still be here, but my father, Everett, will be filling in as the interim head coach until I return."

The wind subtly kicks up, but the humidity today is thick, so the scents in the air stick, and one, in particular, makes my stomach knot. It's roses. Always roses. I've put more thought into her scent than I should, but her choice of fragrance steals my thoughts. I've pondered countless times why she chose it. Was it because she loved it, or did her reasoning run deeper than the scent? Roses are red, like her hair, and there's no denying she has a fiery personality to match, but there's also duality in her choice. One I've tried to push aside because the idea that it has anything to do with the hand that gave her the rose is no place for my mind to dwell. Whatever the case may be, it worked. I can't smell a rose, let alone look at one without thinking of her, and it's that damn scent that has my eyes trailing toward the spot I saw her standing moments ago. I throw up my walls,fullyexpecting my eyes to collide with her crystal blue orbs, but they don't. I should be relieved to be greeted with her retreating form as she exits the stadium. It's better that she's not here, and I just said my new goal was to avoid her, but I'ma smartman. I should have known setting a goal without a plan in place to accomplish it doesn't make it a goal at all. It's merely a wish. I was so distracted by her presence that whatever words Connor continued to give the team were lost on me. It's not until he turns to me and says, "Coach, would you like to say something?"

My eyes immediately connect with Parker when I redirect my focus back to the field, expecting the news of the announcement to wipe the smugness off his face, but instead, I find a scowl. There's more than anger lurking behind his deep-set wrinkles of displeasure. It's more than worry. He knows I wouldn't come after his career. Would I work him hard? Hell yes, but this is different. It looks like worry and smellslikefear, which tells me I haven't been gone long enough. I gave him time, and now it's up, but I don't have time to worry about his love life with Cameron. I have a commitment to my son to uphold and an organization to help run.

"Most of your faces look familiar, but my name is Everett Callahan, for those who don't know me. I won't bore you with some long speech I know you don't care to hear. I'm also not going to stand here and ramble off statistics or accomplishments to try and convince you that I am the best fit for this position. Those points would be moot. Instead, I will say this: my job is to support you and our staff so that the organization as a whole can be its best. Today is only the first of many unforeseen and insuperable decisions that will impact you should you continue down this path. Professional athletes are not immune to trades or organizational changes. It's part of the game. I suggest learning to channel those feelings into your game. Stay hungry. I want hungry players on this team. It's that desire that motivates us and pushes us outside of our limits to keep going despite adversity. You don't have to respect me, but you will respect your teammates and this program." I take off my suit jacket, something I should have done the second I stepped out of my Mercedes. I have no plans of coming in here and strong-arming these boys into submission. This is their future on the line, not mine, and respect isn't something you can demand. It's earned. They'll either realize that and show up, or they won't. "Let's see what we're working with," I say before stealing the ball cap off Con's head and starting practice.

Chapter 4

Cameron

"Hey," Parker says as he enters the team shop where I've been sorting through logo wear and uniforms.

"Hey," I toss back without so much as a glance in his direction,my focusentirely on the uniforms and gear. All these items are for employees and will be stored in a closet, but I've laid them all out to ensure that they are to spec, not just on colors but also on fit and material. The ratio of cotton to polyester is important, and I've heard stories in school about clients who ordered shipments where suppliers cut corners on blends to save money. Cotton is typically more expensive than polyester, so sometimes you'll see it marked one way online, but then you receive the order, and the blend counts are slightly off. It may seem small, but that variance can make a big difference in comfort and wear. Polyester technically holds up longer, but it also snags. I want these uniforms to be perfect. Not just for my resumé but because I want to impress Connor. While I may have designed them, Connor chose the suppliers and placed the orders, andI want to see to it that they are right.

Parker's hand finds the small of my back. "Do you need help in here? We've already unloaded the last truck and got two hours of practice in today, and I'm pretty sure this is the same place I saw you this morning." I check my Rolex—the one my father always used to wear—and see that it's almost five o'clock. "The fact that you had to look at your watch tells me you probably forgot to eat lunch. Come on, this will all be here in the morning. Let's get something to eat at Eddie's down the street."

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