Page 280 of Vegas Heat

In the end, the Vegas Heat wins our first Cactus League Spring Training game with a score of four to one.

We have thirty-four games over the next month with three doubleheaders and a grand total of two days off before the season begins.

It’s supposed to be fun. It’s always been fun. But as hard as I try, I can’t seem to find that feeling of fun in any of this.

I’m far from doing what brings me the most joy. Hell, at this point, I’m far from doing anything that brings me any joy at all anymore. And it makes no sense because this was always mything. This has been my life for nearly thirty years. It’s the thing that brings me closest to my father even now.

But after my talk with Nick, I can’t help but wonder what my father would think of any of this. Nick was right—my father wouldn’t want me to just walk away, but he also wouldn’t want me to be this unhappy. He wouldn’t want me to just simply fulfill a commitment I made if my heart wasn’t in it.

But he was a man of his word, and he taught me to be one, too, in the few short years I had with him. The last thing I’d ever want is to do something he wouldn’t be proud of, and letting down an entire organization after I agreed to be its leader feels like the wrong thing to do.

But does it feel more wrong than not having Gabby in my life?

It’s the same argument I’ve had with myself a million times over the last few days. It’s just not an apples to apples comparison and I think that’s what’s causing me to have such a hard time with it.

The next day is our first doubleheader, and we lose the first game but win the second. It’s a split squad, so I only play in the second game, and it’s as I’m coming off the field and heading toward the locker room that I hear it.

“Cooper!”

I turn at the sound of my name and spot a very pregnant Stacy Earnhardt smiling at me from the front row.

I don’t know if she was here for the whole game, but my focus was on the field, not who was in the stands. I freeze for a beat before I turn back and walk over toward the first row.

“What are you doing here?” I try as hard as I can to keep the venom from my voice, but it’s nearly impossible given the fact that I’m talking to Stacy of all people. She’s not the person I want to be dealing with today—or any day.

But a lot of other people are around to witness this exchange, and so I need to remain civil.

“I came to see you, baby,” she says.

Is she fucking high? “Well, you saw me. Thanks.” I can’t help when the sarcastic words drop from my mouth.

“Can we talk about the baby?” she asks.

Other people are listening. I know they are, and she’s implying somehow that this baby isminewhen that could not be further from the truth.

“I’m happy for you and your baby,” I say. “But I have team responsibilities to get to. I’ll catch you later.”

I don’t mean that. I will not be catching her later, but it’s one of those things that’s polite to say when you walk away from someone or when other people are around.

As I turn to walk away from her, I spot Dylan catching our exchange on his phone. I don’t know if he’s taking video or photos, but it doesn’t matter. I already know what’s going to happen here—as if I’m some sage who can predict the future.

I’m not sure what went down between Mia and Gabby and whether Dylan and the internship had something to do with it, but I do know that Dylan will use the footage to create a story where there isn’t one.

It doesn’t matter what I say here. It doesn’t matter what I do. He’s not the only one aiming a phone at me, and somehow, someway this will hit the internet and I’m certain Gabby will see it.

I don’t want her to see it. I don’t want her to be hurt or to jump to conclusions.

But maybe it’s what she needs to see so she can press on.

I don’t join the guys for beers at the bar since I’m exhausted after playing today combined with the mental strain from everything going on. Instead, I sit on the patio by myself, a fire roaring in the fire pit, and I try to figure out what the right thing to do is.

When I’m on the field for four innings every day over the next six days, my focus is there. I push everything else from my brain in an attempt to perform at the highest level. I'm supposed to be setting an example for the younger guys as the man tapped to be the face of this team, and I throw all my dedication into that because this is where I am right in this moment.

I go through the motions. I go out a few nights a week to drink beer with my buddies. I reject any advances coming my way. I try to stay out of trouble.

Mike drops into town during our second week of games. He spends a lot of time with Troy, but my interactions with my manager are limited to practice and game play. He doesn't ask for my input on strategy anymore, and part of me is even wondering if he's still considering me to be a starter. I've started every spring training game, but this is the month where baseball players need to prove themselves. This is a month where we will work to get noticed by our coaches so they can see what we are capable of.

For old guys like me, this month is meaningless. We’re already assured our spot because of our big money contracts, and we don't need to prove ourselves since we've already done that in the past.

---