Page 153 of Renegade Ruin

Bishop steps in front of me at the same time as Graham jumps to his feet and jerks Vaughn back, pressing him against the back wall with a forearm to his throat.

I place a hand on Bishop’s bicep and look up at him, nodding my thanks as I step around him and address my former President of Baseball Operations. “We might not succeed, but we’ll go down with smiles on our faces knowing we did it together.”

“That’s right baby, Renegades for life,” Bishop says. He presses a kiss to my temple and whispers only for me. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“So, Bishop and Willow are staying?”

I turn around to see who asked and find the entire team staring back at me, each of them holding their breath, waiting to hear the verdict. The game must have ended, and they’ve wedged themselves in the doorway behind Indie, Leigh, Carson, and Luca.My family. Not by blood, but by the trials and tragedies that have brought us together.

The commissioner shakes his head, but the hitch in his lips tells us what we want to know before he says it. “Pending an official investigation, they’re staying.”

The entire team goes feral with cheers, and my heart skips a beat.

This is what I dreamed of. This is the start of my legacy.

I look up at Bishop and find the mischief I saw that first night we met, freezing on a balcony, mixed with a hint of what looks like forever etched in his eyes.

“Who are we?” he asks.

“Renegades, baby.”

EPILOGUE

WILLOW

Opening Day

It’s a perfect day for baseball in New York. Rain came through last night and pushed out the gloom, leaving a perfect crisp spring day with fluffy clouds and sunshine.

As much as I loved my time in Fort Myers, I’m happy to be back in the city that never sleeps and ready to get this season started. It feels like a brand-new start—for me, for Bishop, and for our team.

But there was one stop Bishop needed to make before he could move forward.

Compared to the sea of headstones tarnished by weather and time, Tommy’s is pristine. A simple oval top with shoulders on either side. It reads:

Thomas Jeramiah Woods

1994 - 2023

Loving Son, Brother, and Teammate

We stand, hands intertwined before his grave, the weight of loss heavy upon us.

Bishop looks down at me, tears rimming his deep brown eyes.“Give me a minute.”

“Of course.”

I let go of his hand and step back, praying he can still feel my love as he crouches down like he would behind the plate and softly speaks to one of his best friends.

My heart aches for him, but it’s accompanied by a swell of pride. This man has endured more loss than one person should in a lifetime, and he still managed to claw his way back and learned to persevere.

That doesn’t mean there still aren’t hard days. Sometimes he’ll stare out at the field he loves and get a far-off look in his eyes, and I know he’s not seeing his current teammates, but the ones he lost. I hold him a little tighter on those nights and always on the ones that come after a session with Jolene. She’s good for him. She pushes him to think outside the box and make it make sense. Just like he does for me. In that aspect, we make a good team.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when Bishop falls to his knees and his shoulders shake with heavy sobs.

In an instant, I’m there, wrapping him up in my arms.

Bishop clings to my coat and buries his face in the crook of my shoulder as he releases the emotions he’s pushed down for so long. Silent tears run down my face as I run my hand up and down his back to remind him, and myself, we’re not alone.

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