Page 290 of Vegas Heat

I could’ve picked up the phone a hundred times, but even when I get back, I know I won’t. I can’t.

Not when Troy drew a line in the sand. Not when I think about the real reasons why I chose to end it with her.

I won’t come between her and her father. What they do now that I’m out of the picture is their decision.

But I also don’t know that I can play for Troy. I’m starting to think I should cut my losses and move back to San Diego—maybe try to get my old job back at SFK.

As the bus rolls back into Vegas and the flashing lights of the Strip come into view once we pass over the hill in Henderson, I can’t help but wonder whether Vegas was ever really the place for me.

“I miss Fun Cooper,” Danny whines as he slides into the empty seat beside me.

“I miss peace and quiet,” I mutter, and Danny laughs as he punches my shoulder.

“See? I knew your sense of humor was still in there somewhere,” he muses.

“Who said I was joking?” I ask.

“We’re going out to Honeys tonight if you’re game,” he says, mentioning the strip club frequented by players on the local athletic circuit.

“I’m out.” I shake my head and hold up a hand. “I’m just glad to be back home, man. Besides, I’m sick of being around all you motherfuckers.”

He laughs, but in truth I could use a few hours to myself. The only light that seems to be shining right now is on the fact that I get to go home to my big, silent house all by myself.

We only have one day off before opening day, and I don’t want to spend it hungover or full of even more regrets than I already feel. Besides, I know the sentiment ofglad to be back homewon’t last long. Our first two series of the season are at home, and then we’re out of town for a week.

The bus drops us at the stadium, and we all scatter to our own cars and trucks. I patiently wait my turn to exit the parking lot while many of the others show off by peeling out, but that’s never really been my style.

I head home, ready for that beacon of peace that’s been just beyond the horizon for an entire month, and as I turn the corner onto my street, the hope for silence is gone in a flash.

A car sits in my driveway. It’s not one I recognize, but it’s a Lincoln SUV. I only know one person who rents Lincoln SUVs when he’s away from home, and incidentally he also has access to a key to my house through our mother.

So Connor’s here, and maybe his family, and maybe my mother, and while I’m grateful that we’re close, grateful they came to visit, grateful to have such wonderful people in my life, it sort of feels like the wish and hope of peace and quiet flies right out the window of my truck as I pull into my driveway.

I walk in the front door, and it’s sweet. Really.

Posterboards proclaimingWelcome Home CooperandKnock it out of the parkandTwenty-One, He’s my sonare hung in myfoyer, and I hear music coming from the family room. I walk in that direction.

“Surprise!” my family yells at me, and sure enough, everyone made the trip—Connor, Marissa, Ethan, Jake, and my mother.

It’s great they’re here. I’m happy to see them.

But I also wanted a night off, and instead, I’m blindsided into the role of host.

They came out to attend opening day, and while I’m excited they’ll be here for that, excited we can all be together, I just wish they would’ve given me a little notice instead of opting for the surprise visit.

And I really wish my mother didn’t feel the need to confront me after everyone else went to bed.

“Have you talked to Gabby?” she asks. We’re sitting on the couch in front of my fireplace and television, both of which are turned off right now. She’s sitting with her legs tucked under her as she studies me while I’m collapsed back with my head resting on the back of the couch as I stare up at the ceiling.

Over the course of spring training, I talked to my mom a few times a week. Not daily like I usually do, but that’s how it is during the season. Things get busy. But she knows I ended things with Gabby, and she knows my heart is broken over it. That’s the extent of what she knows.

I shake my head.

“Coop, talk to me, baby,” she says softly. “You’ve been radio silent for the last month. You said you ended things, but you never said why, and I saw you two together. I know this is something special.”

“Was, Mom. Itwassomething special.” My voice is soft but firm.

“What happened between you two?”

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