Page 84 of Wild Catch
It can’t be him.
Please, I go as far as praying,don’t let it be him.
One by one, the guys start taking back their seats until I’m the last one standing and?—
What the shit.
The new guy makes eye contact with me, what with me sticking out like a sore thumb.
I raise my eyebrows, because this is legitimately the last person I expected to see coming to this organization. Slowly, I retake my seat as well.
“Everyone, let’s welcome Miguel Machado, the newest member of the Orlando Wild family.” Beau finishes that concise little speech with a clap of his hands, and is quickly joined by the staff.
The players are slower to catch on, and the one who kicks us off is Lucky Rivera pumping his fist in the air. “World Series, let’s go baby!”
And that sends the room into absolute mayhem.
Hats and shirts go flying in the air, and the screaming is so deafening that I have to plug my ears with my fingers.
This completely derails the meeting and no one really pays attention as Socci and McDonald try to talk about the previous series. It’s only when McDonald switches to some highlights from Machado in his previous team that people start settling down.
Leaning to the side, I pluck my phone from my back pocket and text Kaplan the news. It’s the kind of big shit that he should know about because this potentially changes things. It’d be absurd to leave the team that has one of the best pitchers right now, and now also has the freaking MVP of the league—who is the top hitter all across the board.
My pulse spikes at the realization that maybe I don’t have to leave. Maybe it doesn’t make sense anymore. And if so, maybe that means that I can… I drop my phone on the table and shake my head.
Why am I thinking about Rose now? This has nothing to do with her.
When the meeting ends, I join the crowd in exiting the room, dragging my feet to allow myself more time to think. I can definitely ride out the rest of this season here and reevaluate my priorities afterward. Rivera wasn’t entirely wrong in assuming that acquiring Machado makes us a strong contender now. I’d be a fool if I change teams now and then the Orlando Wild wins the whole damn show.
A hand falls on my shoulder, stopping me on my tracks. I lift my eyes from the floor to Beau’s face.
What’s with the twinkle in his eyes?
“Hopefully this makes you reconsider, hmm?” He pats my shoulder and leaves ahead of me.
I stand in the now empty room and narrow my eyes at his retreating back. Did he… Nah. There’s no way he’d severely set the team’s budget back to acquire Machado just to get me to stay.
Would he?
“Wait.” My brow furrows. “This damn old man would.”
My phone buzzes and absentmindedly, I take it out again. The words on the screen barely register and I have to reread them several times.
Kaplan
Shit. This is a game changer
“No shit,” I respond aloud.
Tucking my phone away, I finally get my legs in motion to head back out to the locker room.
As expected, a crowd has gathered around the latest circus attraction. Some of the guys at the back notice my approach and let me through, and I weave my way to the front to see if this is the good kind of crowd—the eager beavers—or if this is the bad kind—a mosh pit waiting to happen.
But I don’t have to babysit anyone. In the middle are none other than the newest Wild player holding up a jersey with his last name in the back, standing in front of a locker that has newly been adorned with the same information, and our social media manager interviewing him with a professional camera.
My eyes zero in on Rose. From where I stand, the camera obstructs most of her face, but there’s no mistaking the giggles escaping her lips. Like she’s freaking delighted to be in the presence of Machado.
Something unprecedented happens then—the full force of it catching me by surprise. I grit my teeth so I don’t say shit. Tighten my fists so I don’t move a muscle. And I hope with all my damn might that none of these hawk-eyed assholes realize that I’m standing here, losing my mind because Rose is smiling at another guy.
