Page 83 of Renegade Ruin

Carson sets down his beer and turns. Resting his elbow on the bar, he spins to face me. “So, the next step is we need to get the rest of the team here.”

Shaking my head again, I let out a half-hearted laugh. He makes it sound so simple.

“That’s on you. That’s why I asked you here. To help pick up some of the slack when it comes to team leadership.”

Carson frowns, shaking his head. “Not a chance. It needs to come from you. And I think next weekend is perfect. We have a day off Sunday. We can bring them here Saturday night.”

“That's almost two weeks away. You’re saying you want to sit on this until then?”

He throws up his hands, holding me off. “I know. That’s why it’s step two in my plan.”

I lift a suspicious brow. “Do I even want to know what step one is?”

“You’re going to hate it, but that’s why you’re going to do it.”

My face falls.

“Don’t look at me like that. If you’re serious about welcoming this team, it has to start with you. They look to you because you were the heart of the team before the crash. You know this organization inside and out.”

“Maybe once I did, but nothing is the same.”

“No one expects it to be.”

I scoff. “Tell that to the top brass.”

“Fuck them,” Carson roars and from the office in the back Lou echoes, “Yeah, fuck them.”

The two of us look at each other and hesitate before we both burst out laughing.

“Seriously though, aside from Graham and Willow, they all have their heads as stuck in their ass as yours was. This is our team now.”

It grinds my gears to hear him call Willow by her first name, but I let it slide. Mostly because I’m shocked by the fact it doesn’t hurt to hear him claim my team.

Our team.

I nod. “So, what do you propose?”

“For the next week, you’re going to spend at least five minutes with each of the guys, getting to know them.”

“Carson, I?—”

“No, Bish.” He cuts me off. “I know you didn’t ask for this. Any of it, but like it or not, it’s your job. Unless you want to let it happen organically, in which case we should get used to losing because this team needs something to bring us together.”

Fuck, I hate losing and Carson knows it. Having used him as a shield to avoid the team, he’s heard more than a few of my rants about us being unable to get our shit together.

“But why does it have to beme?” It’s not lost on me that I sound like a spoiled child, but honestly, I’m only just figuring out how to take care of myself. There’s no way in hell I can take responsibility for the entire fucking team.

Carson smiles like he’s been waiting for me to ask this exact question. “Remember a few years back at the all-star week when Callahan and Zoriah had beef that carried over into the game?”

How could I forget? The All-Star game mid-season is supposed to bring players together from each league as a show of unity. But the two of them nearly came to blows in the dugout. Come to find out, it was over a fucking misunderstanding with a cleat chaser who ultimately ended up screwing them both over and giving them the clap.

“You sat them down and spent five minutes listening to each side of the story and helped them realize the broad wasn’t worth the bullshit. Now look at the two of them. They’re best buds.”

I snort. “How is this relevant?”

“You bring people together.”

“I did,” I point out. “But we both know I’m not that guy anymore.”

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