Page 49 of Renegade Ruin

My apology.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WILLOW

My heels click with every step as I head down to the clubhouse. This morning is the meeting to kick off spring training with the entire team and my first time addressing the guys all together. Mentally, I go over all the things I want to say to them, the hope I want to instill within them. I’ve seen the stats for our team, and contrary to the reports that we were given, the castoffs from every team in the league, we’ve got a strong lineup. We might not make the playoffs the first season out, but we have a real shot at becoming a team to be reckoned with. That is, if we can get our shit together and play as a team.

Just another reason to give Bishop the distraction he needs to step up and be the leader I know he is.

Shit. A swarm of drunk bees takes flight in my stomach at the thought of seeing him.

My thoughts always come back to him. He might have left before the sun went down, but I spent the majority of the night with him on my mind. First trying to wrap my brain around what he’d asked me to consider, then trying to convince myself it’s a terrible freaking idea.

I can easily make a case for saying yes. If only for him and what I know he's capable of. Because if he’d let go and allowhimself to forge meaningful connections with this team, he’d be unstoppable. He needs them.

But what about me?

One day ruined our lives and changed us forever. Until yesterday, I haven’t let myself even remotely fall apart. Not because I haven’t wanted to, but because as a York, failure is not an option.

Once upon a time, that belief was challenged by Bishop. We might have only been a series of one-night stands, but in so many ways, he became the fleeting person I could let my guard down with. My safe place. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to word vomit everything like I’d come down with a bad stomach bug. And he took it and held it safe. He didn’t push or throw it back in my face like I thought he would.

Now he’s asking me to be that person for him. He’s asking me to hold his grief and distract him for more than just one night.

And I’m stuck warring between giving in and standing my ground.

On the one hand, it’s a terrible idea. Not only am I his boss, but I’m not sure I can separate the feelings that are twisted up in him. He might see this as nothing more than a continuation of our one-night stands, but that ship sailed for me. I meant it when I said the last time was goodbye.

But just like with every argument, there’s a flip side. In my case, it’s the incessant hope that often gets me into trouble. He was right when he said this could be the thing we both need. I could stop living from low to low and live in the high that followed my last night with him.

I halt my steps in the middle of the stadium corridor outside Graham’s office, when my eyes catch a glimmer of where my father’s favorite quote is engraved on a silver plaque.

Success is in whatever you’re avoiding.

I can't stop the sardonic laugh that bubbles in my throat. I don’t think Bishop is what my father had in mind, but there’s something to be said for it.

My eyes well with tears, and just like always, I blink them away. It does nothing for the ache in my chest.

My father should be here.

If he was, I wouldn’t be. If he was, Bishop and I might’ve found common ground long ago, and far beyond just one night.

If.

Always if.

If we do this.

If we learn to live.

We can’t live in ifs.

Nope. Not going there. I need to focus.

I knock on the door to Graham’s office and poke my head in, praying he’s already there so I can stop myself from continuing to spiral in my thoughts. “Good morning.”

Thankfully, he’s sitting at his desk buried under a mountain of paperwork, mostly notes from his staff, if I had to guess. I’ve told him more than once he needs to get with the times and move to a digital process, but he insists the information is more in depth when a person is forced to put pen to paper and consider their words.

Whatever works for him and his staff, I guess.

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