Page 41 of Vegas Heat

“You’re not okay with it,” I say.

“And I don’t have to be. As long asyouare good with it, how I feel doesn’t matter. But I do want you to think about one thing. If you’re getting annoyed atmefor bringing it up a second time today, imagine how you’ll feel when it’sallthe media talks about once they get wind you’re not only playing again, but you’re dating someone half plus five.”

I press my lips together.

I guess I don’t have a response to that.

It’s something I’ll face when the time comes. Until then…I’m not going to worry about it.

After lunch, we drive to the beach and sit in the sand for a bit, and I think about the things I want to do when Gabby gets here this weekend.

If we even leave my apartment, of course.

I want to take her to all the places I love here in town, and I feel like we’d have a lot of fun together at a place like Sea World. We can ride the roller coasters and admire the fish, walk around hand-in-hand as we laugh and buy cotton candy and ice cream to share.

I want to take her to the beach, and to my favorite pizza place. I want to show her SFK and all I do there. I want to introduce her to Carla and my friends at work.

But I also don’t want to do any of that. I want to spend the entire weekend naked.

“When are you going to officially accept Troy’s offer?” my mom asks, breaking into my thoughts as I stare out at the waves.

I glance over at her. “It’s kind of fun to make him sweat it out. He wants my answer by September first, so…August thirty-first?”

She smacks me in the arm in jest. “Be nice. If your answer is yes, call him now. Nail it down. Get the contract, and make sure he shows you the money.”

“He will. He’s a good friend, and he’s been in this business a long time. He wouldn’t fuck me over that way.”

She raises a brow.

“Sorry. He wouldn’tscrewme over that way.”

“Better,” she says, and I chuckle.

“I’ll do it when we get home,” I say.

We spend another hour or so at the beach, and once we arrive back at the apartment, I make good on my word to my mom. I sit at the kitchen table and pull up Troy’s contact information, and my heart starts to race.

I’m really doing this.

He really wants me to play even though he hasn’t seen me pick up a ball in three years.

And I really want to do it. I’m scared I’ll fail, but that’s a fear in anything in life, not just in being a professional athlete. Whatif I don’t fail? What if I soar? What if it’s even better than the first time I did this?

It’s a new team, and it’ll be a new dynamic—one that he wants me to lead. I love the idea of mentoring young players, of building a team with Troy and creating our own destiny.

I click the call button.

“You got an answer for me, Noah?” he answers.

“I do. Pending contract negotiations, of course, it’s a yes.”

“Fuckyeah!” he yells, and I laugh. “We’re really fucking doing this, man. This isour time.”

We never played on the same team. Troy played shortstop fourteen years for the Rockies, and I played my seven years with the Dodgers. The difference between us is that he retired a few years ago, while I was forced from the game due to an injury, and I decided to turn it into an early retirement.

Despite never having played together, we found a friendly rivalry on the field and we became close friends off it. He started taking more and more interest in charity events, and he invited me to many of them over the years. We lost touch for a bit when I stopped playing, mostly because of me. I isolated myself from my friends because I didn’t want to hear about how they got to play when I didn’t.

But Troy continued to reach out despite my silence. He’s a good friend, and even though we don’t talk as much as we once did, I’m excited to get back on the field with someone I know will support me one hundred percent in the dugout.

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