Taking the money the Arrows offered would be a joke. It would make me a joke. I think I make more money than that off of Graham’s investments every year. A player like me can’t play for that; I wouldn’t be taken seriously. No one would hire me as a spokesman. My jerseys would stop selling. It would be one, big disaster. They know that, which makes it even more humiliating that they even bothered to offer it.
San Diego is the only answer. Not one I like and not one I want to make, but I don’t have another choice. The money is generous and maybe they can build something around me. I grin, thinking about how awesome that would be—to win a championship with another team. One that didn’t really exist before me.
Pulling into the driveway and jumping out and locking the door, I’m in the foyer before I know it. “You here?” I call out.
She comes around the corner of the kitchen in a pair of yoga pants and a red t-shirt. “How’d it go?” she asks cheerfully. Her smile drops. “You okay?”
“I’ve been better.” My keys drop into a little dish on the table. I take her hand and pull her into the living room and onto my lap as I sit on the sofa. She returns my embrace and I take a deep breath, letting her settle over me and calm the turmoil within.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I got traded.”
She stiffens in my arms, but doesn’t pull away. I go over the numbers, and still, she doesn’t respond.
“How do you feel about San Diego?” I ask.
She pulls away. Then stands, straightening her shirt. “Why do you ask?”
Her voice is eerily calm with just a hint at the end of something vulnerable. It’s the Danielle I met in the hallway: a tough front with a sweet interior she works hard to protect. But why now?
With a dose of unease, I say, “Because that’s where we’re going.”
Her back turns to me, her head bowed. “I’m not going with you.”
“What?”
“I’m not going.”
Scrambling off the couch, my brows pulled together as my heart misfires, I stand behind her. “I . . . But. . . . Dani?”
“Don’t go, Landry.”
The way she says my name, like a plea that she has no faith behind, hits me like the third strike. It wallops me. Breaks me. Leaves me looking and wishing I could do something different, but I can’t because that pitch has been thrown.
“I told you,” I say carefully. “I have to. San Diego is where it’s at right now.” When she doesn’t respond, I feel panic setting in. “I have to go where the work is. I’m not a carpenter or something with ten jobs to choose from and another forty years to work. I have maybe five years, Dani. Five years to do what I do. Baseball is what I do. You have to understand that.”
My trembling hand cups her shoulder, and with the care I’d give a wild grounder, I turn her to face me.
To my surprise, there are no tears in her eyes. Just a steely resolution that feels like a bucket of ice water.
“I do understand,” she says evenly. “I understand better than you’ll ever know.”
“Good,” I sigh, relieved. “Then come with me. Let’s do this together. Let’s pick out a house, on the beach if you want. Let’s—”
“Landry . . .”
“What?” Irritation nudges ahead in the battle of my emotions. Why is she making this so hard? It’s not like I want this, so why is she acting like I have a choice? Taking a deep breath, I try again. “Let’s start over. New city. New relationship. Think about it.” I reach for her, but she takes a step back. My hand hangs in the air.
The tears I expected earlier fill her eyes as she takes another step back. “I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it before I even met you,” she sniffles.
“What are you talking about?”
“This,” she laughs through the tears trickling down her face. “Your passion for the game is what makes you so incredible, both on the field and off. You’re right, Landry. You have a handful of years left and you should play. Absolutely. And if that’s in San Diego, then it is.”
“You know I’d rather be here, right? I love Memphis. And it would be so much easier on you to just stay here. I hate even fucking asking you to leave, baby, but there’s no other way. I have to play. It’s who I am.”
She nods, wiping the tears off her face. “You’re right,” she chokes out. “It’s time for new beginnings. Go to San Diego, Landry.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
She turns her back and covers the distance to the front door faster than I can process it. The cool, wintery air is gushing in the house when I reach it and Dani is almost to her car.
My heart in my throat, my blood soaring through my body, I race through the open garage door and make it to the side of her car as she slides in the driver’s seat.
“Dani!” I call, wedging myself between the door and the frame. “What are you doing?”
Her face is soaked, her lips trembling. “I’m going home.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“Let me ask you one question.” She looks at me, taking a deep breath, steadying herself. “Are you going to San Diego no matter what?”
“I have to,” I whisper.
She nods and seems more confident in her decision, which terrifies the fuck out of me.
“My father is the General Manager of the San Diego Sails.”
My world is twisted on its head and spun a hundred miles an hour. Nearly dizzy, I grab the doorframe. “What?”
“Yeah,” she smiles through the tears. “My dad, the one and only Bryan Kipling, is your new boss.”
As I try to process that, she continues talking.
“It’s why I knew this was coming. I’ve seen baseball take over his life. Take over my mother’s. It’s their love for the game that trumps any love for me, Landry. If it can be that way for a parent, there’s no way it won’t be that for a boyfriend. I knew this before I met you, so I can’t blame you.”
She tries to shut the door, but I don’t budge.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” I ask, still in disbelief. “That motherfucker is the GM? Of San Diego?”
“What do you want me to say? Everyone loves him. He’s on television, smiling and playing Mr. America. Of course it’ll look to you like I’m some kind of weirdo . . . unable to even win my parents’ love.”
My heart cracks, breaking in two jagged pieces. I reach for her. She swats my hands, but eventually relents and lets me pull her into me as I kneel by the side of the car.
Her body racks with tears as her life comes full circle again. Tears lick at my lashes too because, without a doubt, this is nonnegotiable for her. She won’t go with me. This will be the end of us.
As if she reads my mind, she pulls away and gives me a soft smile. “Go, Landry. Go play ball.”
I plead with her without words. I can’t ask her to go near her parents, not to the people that hurt her so badly. I can’t even figure out how I’m going to do that, but I also can’t think about going without her.
“Lincoln,” she says, the ring of my first name, the one she never uses, pierces the air. “This was always going to be the way this ended. I knew it before it started.” She wipes away a tear. “I’ll always be thankful for the time we did have together, and I’ll always root for you.”
“This doesn’t have to be the end.”