A couple days after the confirmation, in a statement given by the Pistons official PR, Walker and Clark show up to my house.
“Figure you could use two or three glasses of this.” Clark holds up an aged bottle of Macallan.
“Come on in.” I wave them inside with a sigh.
Walker and I haven’t been the same since he discovered Colleen and me originally, and I’m kind of surprised he’s here.
“How are you holding up?” Clark asks as I take three highball glasses down from my cabinet and hand them over to him.
I watch as he pours the brown liquid healthily into them. “I’m all right.”
“And Colleen? I still can’t believe it, man. But then again, you do always play your cards close to the vest.”
“Something like that,” I grumble. “Good job on the wins guys, that was awesome. Can’t believe we’re in the series.”
“Would have been an easier fight if you didn’t put us in the position of losing you on the roster.” Walker’s voice is unreadable.
I hang my head. “You don’t think I know that? I hate that I let my team down.”
“Psh, don’t listen to him, you let no one down. If she’s worth it, then she’s worth it.” Clark, the most unlikely of romantics, hits me with wisdom far beyond his intellect.
“She’s worth it,” I say sagely, taking my glass and downing a large gulp of burning liquid.
“You love her, or else you wouldn’t be willingly facing a firing squad every day,” Walker finally says, tilting his head to observe me.
“I do love her, very much. So much so that I let her go. She balked, got scared a few weeks ago and broke it off. I was going to let her. And then …”
“And then Hannah and Shane happened.” Walker nods his head, finishing my sentence.
“I can’t say I’m shocked by that one. But you guys saw it?” Clark’s eyes turn ominous, like he’d like to sucker punch our ex-teammate, too.
The minute the organization found out about his domestic abuse charges, they dropped Shane faster than a boiling hot potato.
Walker glances at me, and in his eyes, I see the same emotion I saw that night he cradled Hannah to his chest. He understands how I feel about Colleen, how I could give it all up for her, because he feels the same way about a woman who is currently hurting both physically and emotionally in the worst way possible.
“It opened my eyes to everything I was letting pass me by. I was wasting time, pretending that baseball or life without turmoil was more important, or maybe safer, than what my life would be with her in it. Obviously, it’s all blowing up in our faces, but I almost can’t care. Because at the end of the day, I have her by my side. That’s what really matters.”
All three of us drink in unison, and then Clark sputters on a laugh.
“Jesus, you sound like a general about to leave his woman home and go off to war. I need some of your lines to perfect for my next batch of women.”
My eyes practically roll to the back of my head. “You’re a horny asshole.”
“And proud of it,” he beams. “But just know that us two and the rest of the guys are campaigning hard to get you in that starting lineup. Your love life shouldn’t dictate whether you step out onto the field, that’s bullshit.”
When I look at Walker, he’s nodding his head in agreement. A silent truce passes between us, two men who both know how it feels to be in love with the wrong woman.
I just hope that, eventually, it works out for both of us.
39
Colleen
My uncle’s office door is ajar as I make my way to it, the tune of the death march ringing in my ears.
This is what it must feel like to walk into the principal’s office or be called in by your boss, knowing you’re about to get fired.
I knock out of habit, even though Uncle Daniel is pacing the carpet and can clearly see me.
“Come in,” he says in a tone that should be reserved for an annoying fly buzzing around your head.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask politely, though there is an undercurrent of malice under my breath.
He’s been a complete dictator since the news of my relationship came out. Practically forcing my own hand to write my resignation letter, threatening me in meetings in front of our staff, and saying that he’d plant whatever stories he had to get me out. That last one had gone too far, and he mentioned it to Walker, who in turn told him he’d do no such thing. Walker, thankfully, is on my side during this one, and is one of the only people able to keep his father at bay right now.
The thing is, even though the rest of my life is falling down around me, Hayes and I have never been better. I finally get to go over to his house without parking my car around the block. We’re able to talk to each other in the hallways at the stadium without feeling like someone might see us and imply anything about our body language. Not that we’re making out in full view of the entire Pistons staff, obviously I keep it professional while we’re in the building, but it’s nice not to have to ignore my boyfriend when he walks past me.
And we’re able to fall that much more in love, now that this obstacle is removed between us. It’s like, the minute our relationship could be moved from secrecy and shadows, we could allow ourselves to be more open with each other. I’ve been more vulnerable, talking to him about my father and the letter. He was furious when he read it, but glad that I shared it with him. We agreed together that no more contact was needed with that man, that he wasn’t worth my time or tears. Hayes apologized for pushing me on the subject of a confrontation, and could now see it would do no good.
“I don’t know what it is with your side of the family, but you rot the whole fucking carton of us with your actions. First your father, and now you. I knew I shouldn’t have given you this position, that I should have used a loophole in the will.”
He’s trying to sting me, to sink beneath my skin, and it’s working. But I keep my face impassive, not letting him see how much he’s wounding me.
“I admit, we haven’t had the most scandal-free year, but I hardly think my actions are comparable to my fathers.” I make sure to lift my chin and keep from fidgeting.
“This press conference is going to be a disaster,” he growls, and I can feel every ounce of his ire.
“Everyone in that meeting thought it would be a good idea, so I’m not sure why you’re going back on that now,” I point out, politely again.
The rest of the higher-ups in the front office agree that a joint press conference with Hayes and me would be the best thing before the World Series starts. They need to hear directly from us, something that hasn’t happened yet, to take some of the heat off the club before the championship games.
We are also going to address the Shane Giraldi situation during the sit-down as well, for two reasons. One, the team needs to come out hard against what he has done. I am going to speak, and tell them just how vehemently we are against abuse of any kind, specifically against women. It’s also a tactic we’ll use, not that I’m proud of it. But if we can paint the Shane situation as the more notable one, the scandal that people should be paying attention to, maybe it will take some of the spotlight off Hayes and me.
“I’m not sure why you decided to fuck one of our players and put us in this position in the first place. You’ve disgraced this family. You’ve disgraced your job,” he spits, venom flying at me and I almost flinch.
That is enough. I’ve already beaten myself up to hell and back for how much negativity this has caused my team, my family. I’ve warred for months on whether I should let my heart be free to love a good, kind, deserving man. I’m not going to be gaslit and verbally assaulted any longer.
Straightening my back, I find every bit of courage I can muster. “I’m done having men, especially the ones in this family, dictate how my life or career goes. I’m damn good at my job. No, I’m great at it. I’ve turned this club around in a season, brought it back from the ashes and with the help of all our support st
aff and some great playing by the team, we’ve made it to the World Series. If I were a man and I’d been dating my secretary, she’d quit and either we’d carry on an affair or get married. No one would even be that scandalized by an inter-organization relationship, if I had a penis that is. Hell, so many of our relatives work here with their spouses and are overlooked every day. Yes, it’s not convenient and possibly not ethical that I was dating a player. But Hayes and I have never done anything wrong. We’ve never let our relationship cloud our work responsibilities or duties. So, no, I will not be giving my resignation. I deserve this job, I’ve worked damn hard for it, and I’m not going anywhere. You also can’t force me to, so get used to me. I’m going to be here for a very long time.”
My uncle’s mouth hangs open, the obvious shock all over his face. No one stands up to him, least of all his much younger niece who he was just trying to break with his cruel words. I stand there for a full two minutes, while he flounders and comes back with nothing, before smoothing my hair back and squaring my shoulders again.
“If there is nothing else, I have a press conference to get to.”
And I walk right out of his office. I’ve been doubting myself for far too long, letting the opinions of others dictate how I approached my life and my career. I’m not a scared little girl, trailing in her father’s footsteps. I’m my own woman, my own person, and I was born to do this job. It just took me a little while, and a lot of heartache, to realize that I am strong enough on my own. That I’ve done the work, focused my energies, and I can have whatever I want in whatever way I wanted it. Silently, I send up a little thank you to my grandfather, the real head of the Callahan family, for always believing in me. It’s allowed me, finally, to believe in myself.
Hayes is waiting for me just inside the vestibule that leads to the press room. As I peek through the small window on the door between us and a few dozen hungry reporters, waiting like sharks for blood, I see the table set with four chairs. Two for us, one for his agent, and another for the head PR rep for the Pistons.
“Are you nervous?” I ask him, biting my own lips as anxiety shoots through me.
His strong hand grasps mine. “Yes. But nerves don’t equal doubt. We’re doing the right thing. I’m not going back on what I said. I love you, Colleen.”
My heart practically melts. “I love you.”
It’s risky, the way our faces bend to each other, but I need his kiss right now. When our mouths meet, for the briefest, gentlest of caresses, it fills me with reassurance, hope, and love. We might be walking into the fire, but we’re not wrong in doing so. If I get this for the rest of my life, then I’ll face as many flames as they toss at us.
When the PR rep and Hayes’ agent join us a few minutes later, the four of us walk into the press room and sit down, TV mics crackling and iPhone cameras clicking. I feel the intensity of the lights, the stares, and then I steel my nerves against them. I’m a general manager, a kick-ass one, and these people will not break me.
Our PR rep does an introduction of the facts, stating the timeline of our relationship, and asks for only respectful and relevant questions.
That’s when the bloodbath starts.
Have you slept together on company property?
Did you reimburse Mr. Swindell for his extracurricular activities?
Are you signing on for another year with the Pistons in exchange for sexual favors?
Awful, over-exaggerated questions that no one has any business answering. My heart pumps wildly, shame burning my cheeks. I hope to God they can’t see the blush.
Hayes interrupts it all, raising a hand to silence them.
“Our relationship is none of your business. It’s not the public’s business. You know whose business it is, if they choose to make it so? The Pistons organization, and the league. If they want to a launch full scale investigations into our dating history, be my guest. You won’t find a thing, since there has been no favoring, nepotism, or otherwise unethical behavior. We’re simply two people who fell in love and happen to have jobs where that might not be the smartest decision. That one is on us, but I think the world can understand that we’re not in control of who we fall for. I’m sure you’ve all had a situation or two like that. So please, let those organizations do their jobs, and let us get back to ours. Colleen Callahan is the most competent, hardworking general manager I’ve ever seen. And I have a World Series to focus on. If there is anything else we want you to know about our relationship, we’ll come straight to you with that information. For now, drop it.”
The room is absolutely silent. I swear, you could hear a pin drop after Hayes stops talking. I’m so proud and relieved he stood up for us both, I could kiss him. But that would only cause another round of inappropriate yelling.
So I pick up the baton, ready to launch into my part of the press conference. “And now, if you’ll stop focusing on our love life, we have much more important matters to discuss. A week ago, Shane Giraldi was arrested on the premises for attacking his wife.”
I go on, detailing the actions being taken against him and what we’re doing to help both Hannah and a charity we’ve partnered with to help the victims of domestic abuse. This is what they should be focusing on, this matters.
When fingertips ghost against my knee under the table after I tell a particularly gruesome part of the tale from what we witnessed in the parking lot, along with my own assault months ago, I’m filled with pure love.
Because Hayes is going to be by my side from this day forward.
40
Hayes
In the end, I get to play in the World Series.
But only because I made my decision with the league and the Pistons before game one even started, and we all agreed there would be no more consequences since I’d chosen a certain option.
Which is how I find myself standing on my base, glove poised, ready to catch the final out of game six. New York has given us a run for our money in this series, but we’ve been the better team. We want it more, we’re the underdogs, and the way we’ve meshed as a brotherhood will never be forgotten.
I breathe in the scent of the ballpark, let the flashbulbs glare in my vision, allow the dull roar to pierce my ears. It’s the last time, hopefully, if we win the series tonight, I’ll be down on the diamond like this. In my uniform, the feel of my trusty old glove on my hand. No one knows, except for Charlie, that this will be my last game, my last season.
Win or lose, I’m hanging up my cleats in exchange for something much more important.
From somewhere up in the stadium, Colleen watches me. My heart flutters with the notion, and part of me wishes we’d met sooner, but then I wouldn’t have had my ten incredible years before her. There is something about having the woman you love watch you play the sport you love, so much so that I wish I got to experience it more. I guess that’s the catch twenty-two here, though if I’d met her sooner, I’d have had to make this decision a lot sooner.
The way we started, with so much animosity on my part and fear of her job, her father’s mistakes and the pressure of all eyes watching on her part … it’s a miracle we’ve made it to where we are. I always thought the kind of love that we share didn’t exist, that I’d find some version of love that contented me enough to settle down with after my career was over.
But with Colleen I was bewitched. From the moment I held her face in my gaze, a part of me knew. Even if I was actively trying to ignore the spark she ignited within my chest, it was still there. And then I kissed her, and I was a goner. There’s no coming back from it, even if it took us awhile and a public scandal to resolve that we should be together.
She is the strongest, most determined, quietly fierce person I’ve ever met. The adversity she’s had to overcome, some that most people would consider dumb since she grew up so privileged, is a testament to her character. Growing up with the parents she did, living under the thumb of the Callahan name? Those aren’t easy hurdles. But she’s taken them on beautifully, and I can�
�t wait to stand next to her and watch all the good she does for this organization and the world around her for many years to come.
This is her time to shine, I’ve had mine. If we win tonight, I’ll add a fourth World Series ring to my collection, and that’s more than some players ever get. Some don’t even get one. I’ve been immensely blessed in my career, both with great teams and teammates, and supportive people around me like Bryant, and sometimes Charlie. I’ve played in other countries, in all-star games, had endorsement deals and recorded my name in record books. I’ve done all there is to do, each thing I set out to accomplish when I was a young rookie in the league. Now it’s time for the next best adventure.
We’re one out away from taking it all, and I nod to Walker across the diamond. The feeling in the air is a mixture of eerie and elated, because we’re on the precipice of greatness.
I watch as their batter walks into the box, and I can see the weariness in his eyes. He knows he can lose this series for them right now, and that’s how I know, before he even swings the bat, that we have won. Once you let fear take over, nothing is going to go in your favor.
Everything in me runs on adrenaline, a narrow focus falling over my vision. My fingers tingle inside my glove, and my heart feels like it might just burst through my chest wall. Clark is on the mound to finish out the game and serves up the first pitch.
“Ball,” calls the umpire.
An audible whoosh falls out of the crowd’s mouth, and I try not to acknowledge the roller-coaster dip of my stomach.
Clark waves off a pitch, then another, before settling on the signal the catcher throws down between his legs. I crouch, getting into position, and brace for whatever is coming next. He launches a breaking ball, which should land in our catcher’s glove with a thud, but the batter gets a piece of it.
Warning Track: The Callahan Family, Book One Page 19
