Page 12 of Renegade Ruin

But they want me to be Bishop Lawson, star catcher of the New York Renegades, and I’m not sure he still exists.

CHAPTER FOUR

WILLOW

We’ve been going in circles for an hour now. I don’t know what made me think Vaughn would agree to allow me to escort our star catcher to spring training, but after witnessing Bishop tear apart the locker room and seeing the way his brown eyes no longer held any hint of hope, I knew I had to try to help.I’ve been silently berating myself ever since for not doing something sooner.

At the memorials, I avoided him because my heart wasn’t ready to face him. Or maybe it was that I didn’t want to accept what I noticed even then. The man who carved a piece of my heart out was no longer the man I remembered.

Seeing him again only confirms that's still true.

Vaughn slams his water down on the desk that used to belong to my father and stalks—more like waddles—toward the bar cart in the corner. Never mind that it’s eleven in the morning or that he’s pouring two fingers’ worth of my father’s expensive whiskey—the one he knows is saved for special occasions. I'm still unsure how it’s possible my father considered this inconsiderate prick his best friend. I remember him being a jolly guy with a kind smile. Kinda like Santa—which checked out considering he sort of looked like him—but unlike the jolly Christmas icon,Vaughn doesn’t like anyone. Especially me. My father always insisted he was a shark in the boardroom, but I’ve never seen that side of him. To him I’ve always been more of an annoyance—the offspring my father let freely roam the concourse.

Just like all of us, the crash changed Vaughn, and clearly not for the better.

His brows pinch together as he sips the smooth amber liquid and lets out a curt snort. “I don’t care if he’s God's gift to baseball. This team doesn’t revolve around Bishop Lawson. He doesn’t get special treatment. As it is, he missed the draft. I should release him based on that alone.”

I wince. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have let Bishop out of my sight after trashing the locker room, but I needed space. Being near him sucks the air from my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

I can’t tell Vaughn that, though.

My gaze doesn’t waver. “I don’t need your permission.”

“You’re right. You don’t. But it is my job to keep you in line and not let you destroy everything your father built.”

Rage bubbles in my chest, but I stifle it down with a steadying breath. I hate that he thinks he has to keep me in line when I’ve done everything they’ve asked of me. Now I’m asking for one exemption and I’m the one destroying my father’s legacy. Vaughn knows damn well I would never jeopardize that. It’s why he still has a job. But this is something I’m not prepared to back down on.

“What’s the harm?” I press, changing my tactic to one built on logic. “Bishop’s a liability if we allow him to drive. This way he’s delivered to spring training without any issues, and hopefully he’ll be happier when he shows up the next day.”

It’s wishful thinking and we both know it. One plane ride isn’t going to fix Bishop. Especially with me, but Vaughn doesn’t need to know that.

“Your problem is you think I give a shit what Bishop wants. He’s been a thorn in my side since the crash. One fuck up after another and now he’s trashed our clubhouse.” Vaughn shakes his head and his nose wrinkles. “Not only that, but he did so when there was a room full of reporters just waiting for a story to unfold. He handed it to them. Now no one gives a shit about the fact we just made history. Instead, all they care about is our fuck up catcher and his latest antics. When are you going to see, you can’t help people who don’t want to help themselves?”

That’s the thing. Bishop does. I saw it in his eyes. He’s lost, but that’s not a sin. I’ve been where he is. I know the way out. Isolating him from the only constant—the only thing he’s ever truly loved—is not the answer.

“This team needs him.”

“He’s out of control. I’d sooner trade him than risk putting him on the field.”

“You can’t.”

“That's where you’re wrong, Willow. I’m the GM. That’s literally in my job description. You might be new to this business, but your father trusted me to do this. You need to learn your place in this organization.”

His words cut exactly where they’re meant to, and I will the tears prickling the corners of my eyes to steer clear of falling. It’s on the tip of my tongue to fire him right then and there. I’d be well within my right to do so, but that wouldn’t come without repercussions of its own. I’m already on thin ice when it comes to public opinion. The world doesn’t think I can do what my dad did because I wear a skirt and paint my lips red. If I were any man, I’d instantly be the hero rebuilding an empire, but because I’ve got a X chromosome, both the MLB and the greater public believe I couldn’t possibly do a better job than the man in front of me.

So, I keep Vaughn around. What’s the thing they say—better the enemy you know. Anyone else would have thrown me to the wolves. At least Vaughn pretends to placate me out of whatever remaining loyalty he has to my father.

I straighten my shoulders and latch onto the promise I made to honor my father. “Bishop isn’t going anywhere.”

Vaughn’s lips twitch upward, and I swear he’s holding back a smile. “Then he’s your problem.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you want him so bad, then you keep him in line. But know this is the final courtesy I’ll be granting you. We agreed to re-evaluate after spring training, but that’s no longer good enough. One more fuck up from Bishop, and he’s gone. I’m done making excuses for him. We’re on the verge of doing something historic, and I won’t let him or you ruin this team.”

I open and close my fists in my lap, registering his words for the threat they are. An ultimatum. When I finally find the strength to speak, my words are soft, and to my detriment, convey my utter devastation. “My father believed the Renegades were a family. Family doesn’t leave family behind.”

“That was your father’s biggest mistake. This isn’t a family. It’s a business, and the sooner you understand that, the better. Bishop Lawson is deadweight that needs to be purged.” Vaughn picks up his glass and makes like he’s taking a drink, but mutters under his breath, “I still don’t understand why he left you the organization. He should’ve left it to me like he always planned to do.”

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