Page 4 of Sin Bins and Second Chances
“Just tell me where to sign.” I swallow.
“Good man.” He nods.
Chad slides the paper over and starts pointing out where to sign and initial. Everyone stays silent as I sign where I need to, then Chad, followed by Marcus before it’s passed off to the officials for copying and record keeping.
“Now that the pesky NDA is also signed.” Veronica slides a folder in front of me and opens it up to reveal a different Lonestar Bobcats logo. “We’re shaking things up and want to share a couple of those changes with you.”
I don’t know what I was expecting to see when she opened the folder. Maybe a list of ideas to change my image. Definitely not the blue and pink logo in front of me. This is hockey. Why is it pink?
“I know what you’re thinking.” She laughs. “Why pink? It’s not the primary color, but it’s part of a new image.” She moves a few of the papers in front of me to reveal more images. There are mockups of the new jerseys for the team as well as the stadium and main office. “Everything is already in the works and we’re on time to reveal the new look at the end of August to really ramp up the interest in the new season.” She moves to the next page that shows a calendar. “This particular piece of paper you can take with you if you’d like, we’ll also have a copy of it emailed to you. These are the important dates coming up starting at the beginning of August. We’ll be updating team photos, both collectively and individually, in the new uniforms.”
“Yeah, okay.” I nod as I take it all in.
“We want you to keep a low profile for the next three months before we let a source of ours let out a leak that you’re moving back to Texas.” Veronica continues, “The first team bonding is going to be apublicized volunteer moment. Shortly after that, we’ll be announcing the Lonestar Bobcats Foundation, that is focused on giving back to our local community and around West Texas. Now, I realize this is a lot of information. So we can put a pause on this. Let’s do some weekly video conferences or calls until you’re moved and settled back here to keep you informed and on track. Yeah?”
I nod. “That sounds great.”
The meeting is over quicker than I expected. Although, I’m not sure what all I expected. We all shake hands and then Chad and I are leaving the building and walking to the rental car.
“Ethan, I think we both know what’s happening here.” He speaks up. “I’ll help you get things in order over the next couple of months, but we both know this management relationship has run past its course.”
I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation today, so it catches me slightly off guard. “You’re right.”
“I can help suggest a few people. I’m sure the Bobcats have some people in house that can help for a while too.” Chad opens the door and slides into the driver seat.
I take a minute to look at the building. The old team logo across the front of the building is faded in the afternoon sun. This is when everything changes. I know when I come back here, everything will be different. I only hope it will be the good kind.
Chapter Two
DAISY
Four Months Later
There’speace in the early morning, right before the sun peaks above the horizon. A moment when the world seems especially quiet and the only things on my mind are the designs I’m going to score onto three dozen loaves of sourdough as I sip my Dulce De Leche coffee. The moon is still high in the sky, full of hopes and dreams.
Near the sink, I place my ceramic mug, wash my hands, and pick up the bread lame. I arrangethe rounded and shaped loaves evenly across the butcher block kitchen island on pieces of parchment paper. Then, carefully set to the task, dashing and slicing my way across each one before moving them to the preheated bread oven.
We recently converted the small dining area off the kitchen into an extension of my micro-bakery. The new bread oven wasn’t something I’d imagined I would need or invest in, but it was proving to be helpful in baking more things at once. And having the extra space to prep and package everything while staying organized kept my mom happy—not that she used the kitchen as much as I did. Before, I scattered my baking supplies in containers that were constantly overflowing into the living room.
I was a bit of a mess with my clutter. Not that I couldn’t keep things organized, I just had trouble letting things go. If the worst thing about me was not being able to turn down a new kitchen gadget—well, that wasn’treallyterrible. Besides, my love for being in the kitchen had turned into a blessing.
For the first time, I felt like I was contributing something to our life on the ranch and not just existing on it. Never even in my wildest dreams did Iimagine I would be a baker, let alone bake more than a dozen loaves a week. I’ve always loved to cook and bake. It never occurred to me before how it could be turned into something so beautiful. Plus, having the house smell like a bakery was a dream.
Life on the family cattle ranch wasn’t something I wanted when I was younger. Sure, I could cowgirl with the best of them, but it wasn’t what I wanted out of life. At least, not while I was younger. I didn’t appreciate the slower and peaceful lifestyle it gave me.
When I was in high school, I preferred to stay busy. I craved the hustle and bustle of city life I saw in movies. I’d envisioned a life working in a high rise with a cramped office and a mix of comical and annoying coworkers. Maybe I had a closet size apartment to myself or shared something larger with a few roommates that grew to be like a family. Then, I found my first love—and maybe my only one.
For a while, I saw something different. At the time, it was going to be beautiful. We were going to create a life together. That was all during the last semester of my senior year.Everything changed within a couple of weeks. Time just stopped.
I couldn’t leave my mom alone after that.
Here I was, a twenty-five year old woman still living at home with her mom. The same house my parents brought me home to when I was born. The very house my mom moved into as soon as my dad could convince her, at least that’s what they told me.
Most days, it still felt like home. But, I would be lying to myself if I said the emptiness didn’t linger in the corners. Like shadows creeping in the dark during times I wasn’t expecting. Threatening to swallow every bit of happy left. It’s beens like that for the last seven years. Ever since my dad’s passing.
More love and laughter should have filled the four-bedroom home than the years allowed us. I was an only child, though. My parents tried for more, but I was it. One spare room remained a guest room never touched, while the other a cluttered storage room. We never went into that room. It held too many memories neither my mom nor I were willing to part with, or face.
Until now, she’s never left or bothered to travel. Then again, neither have I.
