Page 55 of The Invitation
I shiver in my seat.
It might also be the path to a nightmare.
I guess time will tell.
Chapter Fourteen
Ripley
“I highly advise against that,”I say, leaning back in my chair. “If you put Charleston straight into conditioning at that level, you may as well write him off for the rest of the season.”
“He’s in that bad of shape?” Coach Shaw shakes his head. “For fuck’s sake, Ripley. I need a shortstop. Is there anything we can do to expedite getting him field-ready?”
“That’s up to him. He must put the work in. We reviewed his personalized program this morning, and I explained how imperative this is to his recovery and reducing injuries going forward. But I mean …”
“How much confidence do you have in him?”
I grin. “I give him a ten out of ten that he’s going to go home tonight, eat a bunch of shit, and engage in inappropriate behavior.”
Coach rolls his eyes.
“He gets a four-point-seven that he’s going to walk in here tomorrow fully committed to his health and the Arrows program,” I say.
“You know, when I got into coaching at this level, I didn’t expect it to resemble chasing kittens around all damn day.” He puts his hands on his knees and groans as he stands. “Yet here we fucking are.”
I chuckle, watching his thoughts fly around his head like a cartoon character.
“I’m going to get with Landry about this roster,” Coach says. “If he wants to make the playoffs, I gotta have a shortstop.”
“Seems important to me.”
He laughs, side-eyeing me. “Any chance I could get your ass in a pair of cleats?”
“Sure. I’ll lace up for the right price, but I’m not sure that’ll help your play-off objective.”
His laugh grows louder as he heads for the door. “Thanks for your help. I can always count on you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Coach’s words echo through my mind as he steps into the hallway. I smile as I pick up my phone to check the texts that have been chirping inside my desk for the past ten minutes.
“Good grief, you fuckers,” I say, opening the family text thread.
Bianca: Is it just me, or is Renn withholding baby Arlo pictures?
Tate: I’ve gotten pics every day this week.
Jason: Of Arlo, Tate.
Tate: Oh.
Bianca:
Gannon: Are you not getting the pictures? Wow, B. That’s rough.
Bianca: You better be joking.
I laugh, imagining my sister’s face all distorted and fire coming from her head. When she lived in Nashville, we were all borderline scared of her. She might be younger than all of us but Tate and short as hell, but she won’t put up with anything—especially from us.
