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Raine took a seat in the aisle across from us, putting his headphones on and digging out another textbook. I had to admire his tenacity. He was officially a major league ballplayer, and he was still determined to get his degree.

Julio looked over at Raine’s textbook. “Advanced Statistical Methods?”

“He’s trying to finish his degree.”

“Huh. Good for him. More of us should be worried about life after baseball.”

Truth. Right now I was more worried about life in baseball. “Want to tell me what’s going on? It’s like half the team got DFA’d over the break.”

“Yeah, the team made some big changes, starting with me. I waived my no-trade clause with Cleveland to come here. Part of the deal was they would make some changes to help build a better ball club. Statistics are important, but they aren’t everything. Too many of the guys who were here either didn’t want to be here, or they hated each other. As much as I wanted to be in Vancouver, I didn’t want to hate coming to work every day.”

“Wait, you wanted to be in Vancouver? Why would you want to come play for Vancouver?” I had accepted Vancouver’s offer because no one else wanted me. With a no-trade clause, Julio had been set to play in Cleveland for at least three more years, and if he’d wanted to waive it, there were a lot of other clubs needing a talented infielder.

Julio chuckled. “I met a woman last year during the offseason. Her name’s Anna, and she’s a devoted baseball fan. She was on vacation in the Dominican and came to see one of the Dominican League games. My dad manages one of the teams, and I was helping him out. The first time I met her, I knew she was the one. The problem was she’s Canadian, from Vancouver, and runs her family’s construction business. There was no way she could move to Cleveland. I got my agent to quietly feel out teams on the West Coast, with Vancouver being my first choice. If I hadn’t been traded, I would have retired at the end of this season.”

I sat back and studied Julio, shocked. He wore a wide smile, and the way he talked about this woman told me he worshipped her. He wasn’t kidding about retiring. This was a guy in the prime of his baseball career, ready to give it all up for the woman he loved.

Was I willing to do that for Jane? The hollow feeling in my chest and the emptiness I’d felt sitting in my hotel room last night had me reconsidering what I wanted from my life. Hearing Julio’s story reinforced one fact: I could change my priorities. I returned to my original question. “Your new contract included Vancouver making changes. I saw the wires—the club traded for three new pitchers and a catcher. And then Raine and I were called up. I’m grateful to be here, but I don’t understand. What’s the plan?”

“You remember my first season, when we played together? You went out of your way to make me feel part of the team. I watched you do it with other players too. I learned a lot from you doing that, but I’m only one guy. I knew you were in the Vancouver system, and I wanted you up here to help me bring this team together. I couldn’t get them to agree at first, but for the last few weeks, your hitting has improved to where I won the fight.” Julio grinned. “Now don’t let me down.”

I swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in my mouth. Julio may have appreciated my mentoring when he was a rookie, but right now, I felt like I owed him everything. “Tell me about the team. What do we need to do?”

“Cook, Hunter, great to see you!” Bennie greeted us as he walked into the visitors’ clubhouse in Atlanta the next day. He hadn’t flown with us because he’d been at the All-Star Game and had flown into Atlanta direct from Cincinnati.

“Bennie. How was the All-Star Game?” I stood up from the bench I shared with Raine and gave Bennie a quick hug.

“Was good. Nice catching up with some old friends. I’m glad you guys are here.” Bennie hugged Raine after I released him.

“It’s good to be here.” I sat back down to finish pulling on my game-day socks. I was nervous. We had arrived last night and gone directly to our hotel. We hadn’t had a lot of time to practice this afternoon, and several players, like Bennie, had arrived today. Most of us didn’t even know everyone on the team, and few of us had played together much. I didn’t have a lot of faith that we would win tonight. Atlanta was too good of a team.

It didn’t help that I’d spent most of the night alone in my room, wishing I could call Jane, trying to find a way to make us work. Julio had given me a lot to think about, but I’d been working toward winning the championship for my entire career. What would my mom think if I just quit? The very idea made me feel like I was letting her down.

Bennie started dressing. “Have you seen the lineup? Are you two playing?”

“I’m in left field, and Carter is the DH,” Raine said. He was almost vibrating, he was so excited to be making his debut.

I wasn’t much different. It was so good to be back, playing at the highest level after being told I’d never make it. I was nervous too. What if I hadn’t recovered as much as I thought? What if I didn’t have what it took anymore? I believed in myself, was certain I could still play, but sometimes the doubts crept in.

My biggest regret was that Jane wasn’t here. I wished she was able to see my return to the highest level of the game. I wanted to tell her about Julio’s plans for the team, share my worries about all the young players that had been brought in to play for the Vanquish. I had to convince her we had a future.

“I looked up some of your numbers when I heard about the changes the team was making,” Bennie said. “You’ve both been doing good things. Now you can keep doing good things here. I’m late for the pitchers meeting. I’ll catch you both later.”

Bennie headed to the room being used by the pitching coach. Raine and I went the opposite direction, to the hitters meeting. We didn’t have a lot of time before hitting the field.

The game got off to a rough start. After Vancouver’s first three batters all struck out, Atlanta came up to bat. Our starting pitcher was beat up early, surrendering a leadoff home run to the delight of forty thousand Atlanta fans. I watched from the dugout as the next hitter hit an easy fly ball to center field, but the fielder missed the ball and it bounced all the way to the fence. The batter made it all the way to third. Visibly frustrated, our pitcher gave up two walks in a row to load the bases with nobody out.

My guts were roiling as I waited to see what he would do. This pitcher had been pitching in Triple-A for Kansas City when Vancouver had traded for him. This game was his major league debut, and so far, it was rocky. For everyone’s sake, I wanted him to get it together and pitch well.

He faced the plate and went into his motion. Crack. A weak ground ball bounced straight for second base, perfect for a double play. Our second baseman charged the ball, got it in his glove, and dropped it as he went to throw it for the out. The crowd roared as a run scored, and I held back a groan. Allowing my disappointment to show would not help build team morale.

By the time the first inning was over, Atlanta was up by four, and we had committed another error. I was first up in the second, so I grabbed my bat and stepped into the box.

Atlanta’s pitcher was one of the best in the game, and he smoked two one-hundred-mile-an-hour fastballs past me before I took a swing. I managed to foul off his next two pitches, giving me a better sense of how to time his fastball. The next pitch was a slider in the dirt. Ball one. I called for my timeout, adjusted my batting gloves, and concentrated on the next pitch. When I stepped back in the box, the pitcher wound up and fired a fastball at me. I swung over the top of the ball.

“Strike three.”

Fuck. I went back to the dugout, frustrated but determined to do better next time. Trent “Scooter” Plowman, our manager, gave me a slap on the back as I strode past him.