Page 49 of Single Glance

THIRTY-SEVEN

Fuck, it felt good to be home. Not just back in New York, but in our own stadium, ready to face another long series. We’d barely gotten off the plane from California when we got called in to practice. After hours in the batting simulator and doing drills on the field, my body thrummed with anticipation, waiting for the crowd to fill the stadium.

Who the hell was I kidding? There was only one face I wanted to see.

I’d texted her a few times today, after we’d gotten off the plane and headed toward the stadium. She didn’t respond right away—pretty common for her. The girl could never find her phone. Last time she lost it, she’d left it in the freezer after she’d pulled out an ice pop for Emilia. As much as I tried to let it go, her lack of a response grated on me. After so many days apart, I needed to see her, needed to know we were still in a good place. Sure, we’d talked on the phone every night, but it wasn’t the same. I needed to hold her, needed to let her warmth consume me.

I needed to get a fucking grip.

Practice continued around me, and I had to rub myhand over my face to get my head in the game. Baseball was supposed to be the priority, but Hadley had taken over much more of my attention. I tried to focus on the field, but it was becoming more challenging to think about the game when she was on my mind. A barked command from my side made my spine straighten, and I immediately regretted losing focus. Benny was watching me, as if he knew my mind had drifted to other places.

“Shit,” Parker groaned at my side, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “Benny’s on a fucking warpath. You’d think we were last in our division with the way he’s riding us today.”

I nodded across the field, pushing thoughts of Hadley aside so I could focus on our opponents. They lined the other half of the field, stretching and warming up before the game.

This series was a big deal—we were finally facing one of the other New York teams, the Rebels. They were one of the top legacy teams in the league and had the wins to show for it. Everyone dreaded when they came to town, and now, it was our turn.

Tonight was one of the biggest games of the season. Tickets sold out months ago. The league billed it as an upstate/downstate competition, and our fans were dying to show the city guys how capable our team had become.

As I watched Benny’s scowl turn toward them, I shifted closer to Parker, trying to remember our GM’s history. “Think it has something to do with the other team? He’s riled up about us beating them.”

“Benny used to work for the Rebels.” Parker and I both turned as Damien’s voice broke through our conversation. When I last checked, he’d been over by the dugout, having a tense conversation with Jace. Our second baseman lookedlike hell. Dark circles lined Jace’s eyes, and his beard looked unkempt, like he’d given up trimming it. His pants hung a little too loose on his waist, as if he’d dropped weight. My gut twisted as I looked at him, trying to ignore all the red flags waving around him. When he walked out onto the field earlier this afternoon, Damien gave him the same once over, scowling like he didn’t like what he saw either.

Damien shook his head. “Before the Hawks hired Benny, he worked for the Rebels. The new manager used to be his assistant.” He jutted his chin toward the other side of the field, where a short, stocky man stared out at his players. He crossed his arms over his chest, nothing easygoing about his presence. Benny might be tough on us, but he was also fair. Nothing about this guy seemed like he enjoyed baseball, much less wanted to motivate his team. “Carter went behind Benny’s back and told upper management he was the reason for their losing streak. That Benny was failing as manager, and if they wanted a winning season, they needed to let him go.”

“And that worked?” I asked, palming the ball in my glove.

“Nah.” Damien shook his head and glanced back over his shoulder. “But it was enough for them to question all of Benny’s choices, which pissed him off. He called it quits mid-season. Which worked out well for us, because the Hawks scooped him up quick.”

We all watched as a group of suits joined Benny on the field, barely bothering to look at the other team. As they swarmed him, Benny shook his head, but that didn’t seem to stop the conversation. Eventually, the rest of the men left the field, barely bothering to watch the practice. As soon as they disappeared back into the building, Bennygave a resigned sigh, scanning through the group of our players until his eyes stopped on me.

“Seda! Get your ass over here.”

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. What the hell did Benny want with me? Unease swirled through my gut. The last time I got pulled off the field mid-practice, it’d been because Benny didn’t like how I handled the ball and chewed me out to get my head on straight before the game.

“Don’t stress it.” Damien tossed a ball over to Parker. “Probably wants to talk to you about the All-Star game.”

“You serious?”

He nodded. “Hell yeah, kid. You’ve been on a hot streak. He’s gonna put you up for it.”

“But I’m a rookie?—”

“Don’t play that game, boy scout.” Jace stepped next to me. “You’re fucking killing the game right now. You earned a spot.”

For a moment, I just stared at the guy, unsure if he’d ever lobbed a compliment my way before. I cleared my throat. “Thanks, man.”

“Ah, shit.” Jace smirked back at me. “Don’t let it go to your head. Now, get your ass in Benny’s office and figure out what he wants. We need you in the game tonight.”

As soon asthe door closed behind Benny, my blood pressure skyrocketed. He wasn’t the only one in the small office space. The room was pretty minimal—Benny was a zero distractions kind of guy. Besides his desk and a couple of white boards mounted on the wall, a worn leather sofa took over the left side of the room.

On it sat the team’s General Manager, Russ Burton. My blood cooled in my veins. It was never a good thing tosee the GM behind the scenes. While Benny ran our day-to-day, Russ shaped the team, responsible for all the trades and player acquisitions. The man owned players during their contracts, able to shape your future with a single phone call. You never wanted to get called into a private meeting during the season.

“Cam,” he said as he stood, holding out a hand to greet me. I took it while stealing a glance at Benny, who had settled behind his desk. His scowl was set in place, as if he liked Russ being in his space less than I did.

“Mr. Burton,” I greeted him as I stood against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest. Next to him sat another member of the upstairs office, a notepad in his lap. He didn’t make any move to greet me, so I acted the same, keeping that wall up until I knew what was about to go down.

“I’m going to give it to you straight, Cam,” Burton started. “We’ve had a lot of teams reach out about a trade for you.”

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