Page 8 of Sin Bins and Second Chances
Marcus Jones smiles. “We launch in two weeks and until then, these doors are locked to the public. Maggie, our receptionist, has some cards to give you access to the building if you need it in the meantime. Boys, remember to grab them on your way out.
“Yes, sir.” I nod as I step in after one of the others.
The reception desk is different. It’s now a half circle desk, sleek gray to match the modern of the exterior. The new logo is backlit with a blue and pink I can only imagine will shine on the ice in the stadium around the corner.
I follow the others down the hall passing by an updated cafe. We ride up the elevator and are greeted by a mix of commotion. We step off and hook a right and follow the sounds. One of the conference rooms has been transformed into a photo studio. The connected room has paper covering the window, but one peak into open door and I cansee the racks of jerseys.
Whoa. It’s really happening.
“We’re going to do head shots with everyone in their suits and get a team photo, after that you can find your jersey and come back for more photos.” The man holding the camera directs everyone.
In a matter of minutes I’ve smiled so much my cheeks hurt and am standing in front of the rack of jerseys. I see the number three on the sleeve and hesitate to reach out.
“You good, Miller?” Jude walks up next to me.
Jude Becker has been the captain of the Lonestar Bobcats for the last three years, since the first changes started happening when the new owner took over.
“I never thought I’d wear a pink jersey.” I hear Connor chuckle nearby before reaching out and grabbing his jersey.
Jude reaches out, grabs my jersey, and passes it to me. “Welcome to the team, Miller. We don’t care about your past, only your future, and we’re excited to be part of it.”
I sigh in relief. Maybe it’s a silly superstition. I couldn’t just grab my jersey. Not this one. It meant more to me than he might’ve known, to be passed to me by the captain.
Here’s to new beginnings.
Chapter Four
DAISY
My body feels exhausted and restless, which mean I probably look how I feel. Like shit. It’s to be expected since I stayed up late waiting for the buns to rise before I could stick them in the fridge for a few hours. What little sleep I did manage was constantly interrupted thinking I overslept my alarm.
I over proofed the first batch of buns, which resulted in an even later night. Thankfully, the next batch went better. After baking and setting aside the buns, scones, and cookies to cool, I set an alarm. It wouldn’t be as long as I’d hoped. A three-hour nap to power me through until thisevening. I didn’t want to sleep too long and not be able to fall asleep at a decent time tonight, even if I could sleep all day tomorrow.
After a quick shower and some homemade cold brew, I almost feel like a new person. And although it’s technically fall, it doesn’t feel like it here in Texas. We had a fake fall last week, it was beautiful. Now, it’s ninety degrees again. Thankfully, the sun will be setting soon.
I settle on a knee length sundress, its blue and green swirls reminding me of the spring I long for. Spring is my favorite season and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to live somewhere that actually had seasons. I don’t know if I would like to live where it snows. Visiting the snow would be nice though.
I braid my red wavy hair to the side before applying a little mascara and lipgloss. There’s not point in going all out, and it’s not something I care to do anyways. I like the minimal look. But, I at least want to make myself look not as tired as I feel.
As soon as I’m downstairs, my eyes catch my mom. Her thick brown hair is up in a clip. Her eyes scan over the cooling racks spread out on the kitchen counter.
“These look great, sweetie. Is this why you were up all night?” She smiles.
I nod. “Yeah, I messed up the first batch. They just weren’t good enough.”
“You mean weren’t good enough for anyone else to try?” She shakes her head. “I made myself a sandwich with them for lunch and they were fine.”
“Fine… is only good enough for us to eat.” I argue before walking across the hardwood floor and slipping on my sandals.
Over-proofed buns are not something I’d let someone else eat. At least, not someone who doesn’t live in this house. I didn’t want to be wasteful, and they were more than edible.
“I agree that perfection is the goal when you’re selling. Daisy, these are just for Andrew and the boys. You know they won’t care.”
“Yes, but those same boys often share pictures when they’re together and if they tag me again, I need it to all be perfect.”
She doesn’t understand. My mom has social media, but it’s all for sharing funny memes and videos, or keeping up with people she went to school with. It’s all personal, not business.
The farm stand is my baby. It already has afollowing thanks to Andrew and his behind-the-scenes footage of building it earlier in the year. Although, a couple of his teammates got involved, and they started making the videos look more like thirst traps. I’m sure the head of the Lonestar Bobcats marketing was groaning at the content they were creating at the time. At least it was team bonding.
