Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3)

“I’m asking to be let out of my contract,” I tell him. He leans forward as if he didn’t hear me correctly. “I’m not asking for a trade, or to be put on waivers. Only to be let out.”

“Why?” he asks.

I pick the imaginary lint off my pants. “This case…it’s caused a divide among the team and the staff. I don’t want to walk the halls of a place where I’m not welcome, and no one is going to pick me up off waivers. I’d rather save face.”

“Quitting isn’t the answer.”

My throat tightens. I’ve never quit a damn thing in my entire life until now. “No, it’s not, but I don’t see another choice.”

Stone’s fingers steeple as he thinks about what I’m asking. Surely I’m not the first player to come forward and ask for this—possibly the only one in his tenure, though.

“Why not retire?” he asks.

I straighten in my seat and clear my throat. “I need to leave Boston. I’m not welcome here anymore, so there isn’t a point in staying. Retirement would allow you to keep me on staff, and I can’t be here.”

He nods and drops his hands. “Let me think about this, Travis. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to come in here today and quit, and it’s a lot to process.”

“I understand.”

“I do have one concern, though,” he states.

“What’s that?”

“What happens if I let you go and you’re cleared of any wrongdoing? What then?”

I shake my head.

“If I had the answer, I’d wait it out, but people have made it clear that I’m no longer welcome in the clubhouse.”

“Teammates?”

When I don’t answer, he nods. “I’ll be in touch, Travis, and until then, please keep us updated on the case. I heard you have a court date next week?”

“Yep. The state has to put up or shut up.”

“Huh, let’s hope it’s the latter.” He stands and shakes my hand, clasping it with both of his. I’m fighting back the emotions, not letting them get the best of me. I love playing for the Renegades, but I have to have the full support of everyone involved. Not only a few whom I call friends.

The sun is shining when I step out of the stadium. I thought about cleaning out my locker, but the idea truly rips my gut apart. My life as a baseball player is over, and I can thank myself for that.

A different decision, on any given night, and I’d be walking the streets a free man. If I hadn’t talked to Saylor, what would the likelihood be that this other woman would have gotten jealous? Slim to none. I’ve made so many mistakes recently, and each one seems to come full circle to Saylor.

Hailing a cab, I give the driver her address. I don’t know if she’ll be at home or not, but I need to see her. Hell, I don’t even know if she’ll let me in. I wouldn’t. I should’ve never gone over there last night, especially in my inebriated state. Booze and bad attitude do not mix, but I needed to see her.

I ask the driver to let me off a block before her building so I can buy her flowers. If anything, they’ll brighten her apartment, and she can remember the good times we spent together. Even though our time was limited, every memory is burned into my mind, and it’s a time I’ll never forget.

Honestly, I want a chance to redeem myself. She saw the good in me once. She can see it again. And if it’s her job holding her back, well, we can figure that out together. I want her and Lucy in my life.

With the white and red roses in my hand, I knock on her door.

“Go away, Travis,” she says moments later from behind the closed door.

“Please, let me explain and apologize in person, Saylor.” Right now I have a lot to make up for, but I also have questions about the guy that she was with last night. Harsh words were exchanged, and tears were shed.

“Please, Saylor,” I beg as I adjust my weight from foot to foot. The locks on her door clink as they move, and she opens the door slightly.

“I can’t give these to you if you don’t open it all the way.” I stick the flowers up, blocking my view of her, praying that she’ll let me in.

“I don’t want your flowers. I want you to leave me alone.”