Page 144 of Renegade Ruin

“Team meeting starts now,” Bishop yells.

Luca and Graham stay at the back of the room, but Carson follows as Bishop leads me to the front, his hand never leaving mine. When he reaches the vacant locker beside Ford’s, he throws his gear inside and slaps his name plate to the space above it. It’s a move that makes my throat thicken and my stomach flutter. With that one action, he’s claiming his spot on this team.

Bishop squeezes my hand and leans over to press a kiss to my forehead. He then drops my hand and jumps up onto the bench in front of his locker.

The faint whispers in the room drop, leaving an uneasy silence.

Bishop glances around the room, not a hint of apprehension in his gaze as he silently dares each of his teammates to protest his leadership. When they don’t, he begins.

“This team gave me the shot we all dreamed of as boys. It gave me a place to continue playing the game we all love. I’ve been protective of it. But I shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you by ignoring your place here. I’ve tried over the past couple weeks to rectify that, but I still owe you an apology. I’m sorry.”

A few of the guys nod in agreement, but there isn’t an ounce of malice directed at their unofficial captain. Bishop has put in the work to earn their respect. They might not trust him yet, but they believe he deserves to stand at the helm of their team.

“Most of you didn’t ask to be here. A shitty situation and a draft no one expected brought you to this team.” He glances down at me. “A person I admire tremendously reminded me that regardless of how you arrived here, you wear the orange and black, and that makes you Renegades. That makes you family.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and my chest swells with pride as Bishop publicly lays his insecurities on the line for his team. When I look at him, I can still see the hardened lines that are etched in his soul as a result of the crash, but instead of being sealed tight around his heart, there are now tiny cracks of light allowing the man he was before to shine through. His scars are healing, and I love the man he’s becoming.

“Just like any family, we aren’t perfect,” he continues. Lifting his head, he slowly connects with every man in the room. “When it should have been me welcoming you into my home, you all turned the tables and welcomed me onto your new team. I’m really fucking glad you did.”

“Here, here,” Julian Garcia hollers.

Bishop lifts his hand in the right fielder's direction and nods his thanks. “Yesterday, our family had its integrity called into question. I can say with my full chest, none of us on the field last season had any knowledge of the accusations being made. But that doesn’t change that the evidence presented against us and our organization’s involvement in cheating is solid.”

I wait for him to continue, to exonerate my father and tell them it was Vaughn all along, but he doesn’t. My gaze tracks to the back of the room to where Luca stands, and he shakes his head, signaling I shouldn’t speak up and say anything.

“Not yet,” he mouths.

I clench fists at my side and nod, reminding myself patience is a virtue and there are still too many unknowns to bring everyone on board completely. That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to pin Vaughn’s balls to the wall and make him wish he was on that plane instead of my father.

“You’ve seen the evidence?” Russel Brooks, our second baseman, speaks up.

Bishop’s mouth falls into a tight line, and he nods. “Not myself, but I’ve been made aware of what it is and it’s viable. We’re likely going to take some heat from the press and the fans.”

There’s a few muttered curses and a sea of shaking heads.

Fucking Vaughn. I wish I could take this burden away from them. None of them deserve to be taking the heat for this, not when they’ve already gone above and beyond to make this team their own.

“Is that why you called us here?” Ford asks.

“Yes. And no. There’s some additional news that’s going to break that I need you to be the first to know, and I hope you’ll support me in it.”

Knots tangle in my stomach as Bishop looks down and offers me his hand.

This is it. All in.

I place mine in his, and he tugs me up onto the wooden bench with him.He looks down to where our fingers are intertwined and lifts our hands for the team to see. “A year ago, a woman tied a string around my heart. She dodged my love, and I let her go so I could become a man worthy of her. Life had other plans and after a loss that broke me, she became my boss. I hated her, but she never gave up on me. I was a fucking idiot.”

Laughter echoes around us, but it’s lost on me. I’m too busy blinking away the tears that rim my eyes as I look up at the man who owns my heart.

“I love this woman. And by some miracle, she’s agreed to be mine. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

I dare to look out at our team and see a vast array of reactions—jaws dropped, rolling eyes, smiles spread wide.

Bowen Marcos, our relief pitcher and one of the few married guys on the team, huffs a loud, “Fucking finally.”

That’s all it takes for the team to erupt in a cacophony of cheers.

“Kiss her already,” Carson hoots.

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