Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,134

separate us in the first place.

Because I haven’t told her.

“We’re not children, I’m not going to have a temper tantrum. But I’m also not not going to do this with you forever, Bowen. Not even for much longer. So make up your mind.”

The rest of the week is dismal and depressing, with rain flooding out a lot of roads around Fawn Hill.

Business is slow, and I have too much time to think. My brothers end up coming over on Thursday and distracting me during the prime-time football game, but I’m glib and annoyed, leading them to taunt me even more.

I’ve worked myself into such a funk by Friday afternoon that I sound ticked off when I pick up the call coming into my cell from an unknown number.

“Yeah, who is this?” My voice is clipped and irritated.

“I’m calling for Bowen Nash? This is Daniel Ferapo with the St. Louis Tigers.”

I perk up from where I’d been lounging on my couch, flipping through channels and not really watching. “Oh, yes, hello. This is Bowen.

A pause, and uncertainty in the man’s voice. “We’re the triple-A team out here … I, uh, got your name from Lewis Mider. He said you were interested in getting back into the baseball industry. Have to say, I remember you as a high school ballplayer. You had a hell of an arm, Bowen.”

The compliment stings more than it makes me shrug of modesty. Because he’s right, I did have a hell of an arm. One that was crushed between the metal wreckage of my pickup ten years ago.

“Had a hell of a bat, too, but who’s counting?” I crack the joke as if my heart doesn’t rip the age-old stitches sewing it up.

Daniel chuckles on the other end of the phone. “Can’t argue with that. Listen, we’re interviewing for an assistant hitting coach position, and Lewis told me you might be looking for something just like that. Do you have some time to talk about it?”

Christ, I’d just walked right into an interview without even knowing it. The least Lewis could’ve done was give me a heads-up, but maybe he hadn’t known Daniel was going to call me. Either way, I scramble, looking around for a notebook or something. The best I come up with is the envelope for my last cable bill and a half-sharpened pencil.

“Sure, thank you for giving me a call. I’d love to discuss the position.”

Over the next half hour, I try my best to fake it through this interview as professionally as I can. Of course, I know all the baseball terminology and statistics, but I wasn’t prepared for some of Daniel’s questions. Such as, how I thought their season had gone this year. Well … I wouldn’t know that since I had no time to do any research before their general manager called me. And he asked some pointed questions about how I thought the farm systems should be structured and what changes needed to be implemented. Unfortunately, I’d been out of that world for a long time and hadn’t stayed current with the politics going on inside any league beyond the majors. I fumbled my way through those questions while giving some great insight on others.

The hardest question he lobbed at me was one he probably thought was a softball. But asking where I saw myself in five years? That was a complete mindfuck.

I could be anywhere. St. Louis. Another farm team. Fawn Hill, with Lily by my side.

All in all, the interview was probably a mixed bag, and I came out of it feeling winded but proud of myself for being able to hang on through it.

Right now, I’m not sure where my head is at. I could be on a plane to St. Louis before I know it, with a chance at a fresh start.

But leaving Fawn Hill? I guess I’d never thought about it seriously. As a kid, it was a far-off dream that I’d go to the major leagues. I’d never really thought about the semantics of leaving my hometown. And even though I sought possible positions in baseball and out, I’d never considered the full ramifications of what they’d bring. Which was leaving behind everything and everyone I knew and loved.

My head was running in a million different directions, and who knew if I’d even get this position. Or any other.

But I did know where my heart was at, and it had a lot of apologizing to do.

29

Lily

I’m a stupid, stupid woman.

Who almost slipped up