Page 146 of Home Field Advantage
I sigh, exiting the Tahoe, and we both make our way through the stadium.
For the next half hour, I show Tucker the locker rooms and the dugout. He walks onto the field and takes in his surroundings, looking up at the empty stadium seats. The entire time, a smile never leaves his face.
“I can’t believe I got to see the Staghorns stadium. Just…wow,” he says, looking down at his watch. “Oh, you have your meeting in two minutes.”
“Shit,” I say, checking my own watch. “Are you good here, or what are your plans?”
He shrugs. “I have no plans. I never make plans for the future.”
“Not even for the next hour?”
“Nope. I let life take me where it wants to take me,” he says proudly. “But I do plan to walk around the main corridor of the stadium before I head outside to this bar I read about in a blog yesterday. The website told me that it was a little hole-in-the-wall joint that’s amustvisit when you come to San Francisco.”
I nod, knowing which one he’s talking about. “They shouldn’t be too busy today, either, since it’s the middle of the week and no games are happening.”
“Perfect!” He turns to walk away, but stops to face me again. “And Dallas?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for showing me all of this. I’m lucky to call you a friend, and I want you to know that whatever you decide today in your meeting—which I know is weighing heavily on your mind, I just didn’t want to bring it up. You can’t get rid of me.” He shrugs. “I’m still going to be your best friend. As someone who doesn’t plan much in advance and goes with the flow, I hope you follow where your heart tells you to go.”
I narrow my eyes because what the hell was that?
He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, that was weird even for me. Nan told me to tell you that.”
Now it makes sense, and I smile. “Thank you, Tucker.”
“Anytime, coach.” And he turns to walk away, leaving me to think about how he just called me “coach.”
As I make my way to Clark’s office, championship banners and trophies from years before I ever joined the team line the walls. I find myself pausing as I look up at them, the way I always have since I first set foot inside the stadium.
Having my name attached to one of these cold, gleaming pieces of metal has always been the dream. I pictured myself lifting one over my head under the stadium lights, champagne spraying, the crowd screaming my name, and confetti raining down as everything finally comes to life. I used to look at these, and it would make me work harder—play harder. I did everything in my power to make it happen, and it never did.
Looking at them now, I don’t feel that way anymore.
Everything has changed.
I no longer feel the strong desire to push for it like I did when I was playing, or the gut-wrenching pain of never achieving it after my career ended.
I realize in this moment, I don’t want this anymore.
I’ll always love baseball, but there’s no way I can come back here.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I check for the millionth time to see if there’s anything from Poppy.
Nothing.
I begged her to tell me to stay—to give me a reason to stay. She didn’t, and I don’t blame her. With how much I’ve grown to know her, she doesn’t want to be the reason I make my choice.
Little does she know, she’s every single reason.
She’s changed my life in more ways than one. Without even trying, she’s helped me learn that baseball isn’t the only thingthat matters in life. There’s so much more out there than just this sport, and there are ways I can still keep it in my life.
A throat clears to my left, and I snap my head to find Clark leaning against the door frame of his office.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I tell him, making my way to his door. “Got a little sidetracked.”
“No need to be sorry, son. Come on in.”
