Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(18)

I hold up the bottle as I speak into the empty room. “No. I don’t want him at my game because the last time he showed up, I pitched the best game of my Little League career, and he rewarded me by breaking my arm when we got home. Because that was the day he saw me as competition. At the ripe old age of ten, ladies and gentlemen, he feared I’d be a better player than he ever was, and he’s hated me every day since.”

That’s the goddamn answer I should give the reporters, but it’s not them who I picture admitting the truth to for the first time. Maybe it’s because I’ve already given some of the truth to her, but I wish Avery was standing in this room with me. I wish she knew the real story. The real person I am and how I became this way.

Bringing the glass to my lips, I take a big gulp before plunking it down on the nightstand and falling across the perfectly made bed, drifting off into a drunken slumber.





13





AVERY





“Ms. W!” E.J. shouts as he slaps the top of the doorframe, entering the classroom. “Where’s Carter?”

“Sit down, E.J.” I’m glad he’s his usual self, but Monday morning is Monday-y enough without being asked about Carter first thing.

“I figured he’d stop by today since he’s finally back from the road.”

Surprise, surprise: My fingers managed to search up the Coyotes’ schedule to see when he’d be back in town. I’m still working to convince myself that it was to have a heads-up on any surprise visits. But I totally know that’s not the whole truth. No matter, I won’t be informing E.J. of any of the above.

“Carter is a busy guy. I’m sure he’s focusing on his work.”

“He said he didn’t have much going on this week,” E.J. says casually. Holy moly. He’s really been chatting with Carter. Why does that make me both nervous and relieved that Carter is taking the time to be there for a kid who idolizes him? Hopefully, it doesn’t all backfire in our faces.

“Well, we have a lot to cover this week, so let’s get started.” A few groans sound around the room as I’m already feeling summeritis creeping in. It’s still springtime, but the students are already getting antsy for summer break. Can’t say that I blame them. Even though I spend my summer at the feed store helping Mom and Dad, it’s nice to have a change of pace for a little while, a relaxed routine, and the chance to spend more time with my family.

The class period flies, as does the rest of the day, and Carter is nowhere to be found. Although, while I’m monitoring bus duty, another sports guy appears. Mr. Garcia, the baseball coach, waves to me upon his approach.

“Hey, Avery. How’s it going?”

“Good. How about you?” I return his smile, but I’m taken aback a bit by his chipper attitude. Sure, we are colleagues, but other than a grunted hello at our staff in-service days, that’s about as far as communication has ever gotten between us.

“Fabulous. Newman mentioned that Carter Barlowe stopped by a few times, and I was wondering if you could ask him to swing by a practice or a game, maybe rally the boys. It’s been kind of a bumpy season, and we have a big game coming up.”

“Oh, I’m not sure when he’ll be around again.”

Coach gives me a confused look. “I thought with the signing and everything, he’d be coming around more.”

Signing? “Oh, no. He was just touring the school.” I’m tempted to offer to give him a call. It’s the exact perfect excuse to use that number I can’t seem to discard.

“Okay. Well, when you do happen to see him again, maybe put in a word for us. The boys could really use the extra encouragement.”

“Sure will.” I can definitely agree since I don’t know when that might be, and it doesn’t require me to seek out Carter.

Coach gives me a warm smile, waving goodbye as he steps away. E.J. runs past, hurrying to his bus that’s already cranked up and about to leave him behind (again) as he shouts, “She’s taken, Coach.”

Coach gives me a questioning look, but I shake my head at my student. “Get on your bus, Ernest.”

E.J. gives me a quick frown but makes it to his bus before the door closes. As I step back, watching the second round of buses depart from school, I see Garcia glance back at me. I’m sure he’s confused. I am too.

Once I’m back in my classroom, I notice several missed messages and calls from Dad and Rhett. Quickly clicking Dad’s contact, I anxiously wait to hear his voice, dread swirling inside. He’s unexpectedly happy when he answers, not troubled at all.

“Hey, Avery. I know you’ve got your hands full at school, but it’s all-hands-on-deck this week.” He does a terrible job of covering the speaker before barking instructions meant for somebody else in my ear, but I’m confused as heck.

“‘All-hands-on-deck’ for what?”

“The signing. I wish you would’ve given us some warning, but Joe said he’d make sure everything is set up in time, even with the short notice.”

“Okay. Who’s Joe?” I ask, packing up my things.

“Carter’s agent. I figured you’d sent him my way.”

Signing … Coach Garcia said signing. And Carter’s agent? “Wait. What’s going on?”