a bottle of wine and tossed a bottle of champagne in the freezer.
“What are you doing? Are we celebrating?” Sunny asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes, but not until later.” I pulled her against me and kissed her nose. “You know how proud I am of you, right?”
She blushed and looked away from my eyes. “You tell me all the time.”
“Well, I don’t want you to forget.”
“I’m proud of you too. Look what you built!” She pulled away from me and pointed at the framed baseball magazine on the wall that had my face on the cover.
It was a full-length feature spread, talking all about my business, Life After Baseball, and what I provided for players whose careers were coming to an end.
It was a really well-written piece that had made the business explode. Various coaches across the country singing my praises was one thing, but the nationwide exposure had taken the business to a whole new level.
I now had staff and locations in ten states aside from the main headquarters here in New York. Every person who worked for me was an ex–baseball player who had been through the emotional wringer when his time came to an end. I had study courses designed and set up that each staff member had to take and familiarize themselves with. I wanted our players dealt with from the same main angle and perspective.
Of course, every player was different, but the purpose of our program was to help guide them out of the dark and back into the real world. We showed them that there was more to their life than just being a baseball player. And we focused on all the things that had molded us, like being part of a team, and how we could apply that to other areas in our lives.
For example, every athlete had learned teamwork at an early age; how to take direction from higher-ups—coaches; how to deal with difficult personalities—other players; how to fight against diversity—people thinking you weren’t good enough or beating someone out for a position; and how to be a leader. All of these were helpful tools that could be utilized, going forward, no matter what type of career they moved into.
“Chance is proposing tonight,” I blurted out, and Sunny’s mouth dropped wide open. “Wait! I mean, act surprised. Don’t tell her you knew. He might not do it,” I kept running off at the mouth.
Sunny started doing a little dance in the kitchen.
“How long have you known this?” She swatted my shoulder, and I growled. My girl was still always hitting me.
“I knew he was going to ask her soon. But I didn’t know about tonight until today,” I admitted. “But, babe, you can’t tell her you knew!” I warned, and she pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key.
“I’m so excited for her.” She pressed a kiss to my lips before hopping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist. “We’re next, right?” she asked, and I pretended to choke before she said she was just joking.
I’d had the ring for about a month now. A beautiful square-shaped diamond, encrusted with yellow stones that matched her necklace. It was hiding in my old baseball bag in the closet, but I wasn’t telling her that. Her dad had already given me his blessing. I’d asked him for it the last time they flew out.
Sunny’s parents had visited us twice already, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think her mom was trying to convince her dad to retire out here. It was never going to happen, but I thought Sunny’s mom enjoyed tormenting her dad.
Speaking of parents, my mom had bought her own townhouse and was officially divorced from DD. When she’d heard rumors that the old bookstore on Main was set to close their doors for good, she’d put in an offer, resuming her old title as event planner as well as owner. I’d never seen her happier. And the old store was thriving again with book signings and events happening weekly, all because of her.
I felt like I finally understood where my entrepreneurial spirit had come from, and it wasn’t from Dick Davies. DD’s blood was filled with dollar signs. He and I weren’t the same. He’d tried to screw my mom out of substantial sums of money during the divorce by hiding it in things like Bitcoin and overseas accounts, but he had gotten caught and had to give her half of everything anyway. Apparently, he was pretty pissed off about all that. I didn’t know because we still didn’t talk. And as sad as that might be, I felt more relieved than anything.
The truth was, I didn’t miss him, and I rarely thought about him. The guy simply didn’t cross my mind. I was happier without his drama and negativity in my life. Sunny refused to let me feel bad about that, so I didn’t.
I didn’t have much to feel bad about these days. Things had fallen into place when I thought they never would. See, if someone had told me back then that I’d never see the sun the same way again, I would have believed them. I would have agreed that it didn’t have quite the same shine anymore. It was duller somehow.
But I would have been wrong.
Because life after baseball was shaping up to be more beautiful than I could have ever hoped for.
I looked at my silver-haired goddess and knew she felt the exact same way. I couldn’t wait for the next steps in our life, and it suddenly took everything in me not to run into the closet, pull out the ring, and drop to one knee right here in the kitchen.
Chance would kill me if I took away his proposal thunder. And probably kick me out of the house. I could always do it tomorrow instead. That way, the girls could plan their weddings together at the same time.
A double wedding? I could think of worse things.
THE END
Damn. I’m not sure how you’re feeling right now, but that story was such a hard one for me to write, but it was also SO IMPORTANT for me to tell. I wanted to talk about it. The part that no one tells you. How not every single guy gets drafted, but how badly they all want it. Some more than others. When they lose that part of them, it’s devastating—to them and those around them. Most players keep it buried deep inside because it hurts so damn bad to think about, let alone talk about.
There is always a light at the end of the tunnel, but you have to get through the tunnel first. And sometimes that’s a very isolating and lonely journey.
To everyone who wanted it, and didn’t quite get it, you’re still worthy and worth it. I hope you find a new dream and crush it. Baseball doesn’t know what it’s missing.
DO YOU WANT SUNNY’S FAMOUS COOKIE RECIPE?
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Other Books by J. Sterling
Bitter Rivals—an enemies to lovers romance
Dear Heart, I Hate You
10 Years Later—A Second Chance Romance
In Dreams—a new adult college romance
Chance Encounters—a coming of age story
The Game Series:
The Perfect Game—Book One
The Game Changer—Book Two
The Sweetest Game—Book Three
The Other Game (Dean Carter)—Book Four
The Playboy Serial:
Avoiding the Playboy—Episode #1
Resisting the Playboy—Episode #2
Wanting the Playboy—Episode #3
The Celebrity Series:
Seeing Stars—Madison & Walker
Breaking Stars—Paige & Tatum
Losing Stars—Quinn & Ryson
The Fisher Brothers Series:
No Bad Days—a New Adult, Second Chance Romance
Guy Hater—an Emotional Love Story
Adios Pantalones—a Single Mom Romance
Happy Ending
THE BOYS OF BASEBALL
(THE NEXT GENERATION OF
FULLTON STATE BASEBALL PLAYERS):
The Ninth Inning—Cole Anders
Behind the Plate—Chance Carter
Safe at First—Mac Davies
About the Author
Jenn Sterling is a Southern California native who loves writing stories from the heart. Every story she tells has pieces of her truth in it, as well as her life experience. She has her bachelor’s degree in Radio/TV/Film and has worked in the entertainment industry the majority of her life.
Jenn loves hearing from her readers and can be found online at:
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If you enjoyed this book, please consider writing a spoiler-free review on the site from which you purchased it. And thank you so much for helping me spread the word about my books, and for allowing me to continue telling the stories I love to tell. I appreciate you so much. :)
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