Warning Track (Callahan Family #1) - Carrie Aarons Page 0,68

thing I would do once my one-year bullshit deal was up was hightail it out of here. But now, I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt that we’re a couple games out of the World Series. This team is hitting a hot streak at the most opportune of times, and it has that magical feel that some of my teams have had when they’ve made it all the way. It would be a fucking miracle, the story to end all stories, if we won a ring after all that we’ve gone through.

The first thing I should be thinking about is my game; what team should I select to give me the best opportunity to ride out the rest of my career both competitively and comfortably. But of course, that isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. It’s a factor, obviously, but Colleen’s face pops into my head.

We’ve been so good. Almost perfect, which sounds cliché, but it’s true. Aside from having to keep our entire dating life a secret, and sneaking around to be alone, it’s the first relationship I’ve had that’s actually serious. I’ve never felt this way for any other woman I’ve dated, and I already told her I’m in love with her.

That is, until the Walker discovery blew everything up in our faces. It’s been a few days since he walked in on us in Colleen’s office, and things have been tense. And that’s putting it mildly.

Not only will Walker not return my texts, look my way at practice, or acknowledge me whatsoever, but Colleen is distant and worried. We were walking on fragile ground before, not that either of us wanted to acknowledge it. But now that we’ve been found out, and Walker had taken that cheap shot about her turning into her father, she’s been aloof and I can feel her floating away. We haven’t spent a night together since, and she keeps making excuses for why she can’t see me.

She’s spooked and I don’t blame her, but the worst endings have been playing out in my head. And I love this woman, more than anything. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says she can’t do this anymore.

I’m not sure how this will work if I stay. Would we have to remain a secret until I retire? When would I feel ready to do that? Could I ask Colleen to hide for me, possibly for years? What would happen if we did come out? Hasn’t she already been put through enough scrutiny and media attention with her father?

These questions haunt me daily, and they feel like a giant storm cloud hanging dangerously low over our heads.

Then there is the issue of Los Angeles. It’s where I played most of my career, and I love the team and organization. They would welcome me back with open arms, my trade becoming a mistake on the ledger that we could erase. I could retire with them, it’s what I’ve always wanted.

But is it still?

Charlie’s voice crackles through the phone. “Of course I can. Take your time, read through everything. We don’t have to make the decision for a while, you have a few more weeks at least. I know how big this is, Hayes. I want you to be confident, I want to set you up for the kind of future you want.”

When he drops the word future into the conversation, the only thing I can think of is Colleen.

And how, no matter what I choose, we might not even have one.

32

Colleen

It’s been coming like a train whose way I can’t get out of, but I’m still not prepared for it.

This morning, I woke to a dozen text messages, twenty missed calls, and more than a hundred emails. Google alerts and news article sent to me by our public relations staff. Reporter questions and insiders looking for a quote for their piece. Even one journalist that I’m fairly close with decided to reach out and see if I’d like to come onto her program to discuss the anniversary.

Today is one year since my father’s arrest and the subsequent FBI case was made public. One year since I was blindsided in my old office inside the Pistons ballpark. One year since everything I knew crumbled around me, leaving me on permanently shaky ground to clean up a mess I never caused by myself.

I decided to take the day off, and thank God the team doesn’t have a scheduled playoff game today. I’m not sure I could have