Chapter Twenty-Seven

Liam dropped the weights with a thud and stared at his friend and, as of last night, former teammate. Corey wiped sweat from his brow, not bothering with the white towel he had around his neck. Liam’s workout room was as top-notch as any professional gym. He smiled, thinking about Isla checking out the equipment and setup, then confirming its efficiency for him.

“I don’t get it, man. But I have no say. Marilyn is pissed,” Corey said, referring to his wife.

“She doesn’t want to move to San Diego?” Liam set the weight on the squat machine, trying to ignore the stirring in his gut that told him something wasn’t right. He’d been trying to reach Isla all day. He’d even contacted Addie, because apparently he was that gone over this woman. His girlfriend’s assistant had evaded the questions, saying Isla was in back-to-back meetings all day. And she probably is. She’s fired her GM. Addie did mention a press conference tonight, and Liam figured she’d make the announcement.

“We just bought a house, man. And we haven’t told anyone but…Marilyn’s pregnant.”

Liam grinned. “That’s awesome. Congratulations.” He walked over and shook his friend’s hand. That was great news, but he could see why he didn’t want to be transferred.

“Maybe Isla can do something about it,” Liam said, going back to the squat machine.

It took him a minute to realize Corey hadn’t responded. When he turned, his friend was staring at him.

“Isla?”

Heat rushed his skin. “Yeah. New owner? That’s her name.”

Corey’s eyes narrowed. “I know her name. Just sounds like you know more than that. Any truth to the rumors?”

He was tired of hiding it, but he wouldn’t do anything to make Isla look bad in the papers or online. They’d rip her apart. And he couldn’t stand the thought.

“You believe everything you read?” Cruz made sure to shoot him a frown for added effect.

Corey shrugged, picked up a twenty-pound barbell. “I don’t know. If the trade has been made, what can she do?”

Liam couldn’t exactly tell his friend that the person who’d made the trade was on his way out. He wasn’t supposed to have inside knowledge like that. But if the ink wasn’t dry, there might be something she could do.

“Just wait and see. Maybe things will turn around.”

When they finished their workout, Liam did a few things around his house that he’d been neglecting. He stopped in one of the spare rooms and thought about his friend having a baby. Starting a family. He’d told himself there was time. But in truth, there’d never been a woman to tempt him into truly settling down.

“Way to find the most complicated one you could,” he told himself.

Deciding to grab a beer to go with the nachos he planned to make, he checked his phone. Again. Dammit. Why hadn’t she called him back or, at the very least, texted?

He went to the stove, intending to turn it on, and then swore. It didn’t matter if he had no reason to be there or if it made him look like a pansy-ass who couldn’t handle a few hours away from his girlfriend. He needed to see her.

Grabbing his keys, he headed for the garage. He wasn’t at the last press conference she’d given, and he regretted it. She had more inner strength than anyone he knew, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show his support.

He slipped into the stadium and into one of the rooms off the press conference area. There was a screen set up specifically for viewing, so management and front office staff who wanted to hear it live didn’t have to be in the room. He checked his watch, peeked out into the hallway, wondering if Isla was already in the room, nervous about getting in front of the mics.

He didn’t expect to see her come out of the ladies’ room in the hallway. Their eyes locked, and this time, he expected the tight squeeze of his heart. She owned it. No more denying it.

Her face paled as he approached. “What are you doing here?”

His heart stuttered. Reaching for her, he grasped her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Red?”

She shook her head, her eyes so haunted it made his stomach flip. “I…I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. It’s too much. I care about you, but—”

Panic flooded his veins. “Don’t finish that sentence. What’s going on?”

She looked around like someone might join them. “You need to go. The team… I just, I can’t do it. You need to focus on your career and…I miss Colorado. I want to go home.”

He dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The fire he loved seeing in her gaze was…extinguished.

A door opened and shut behind them. Liam turned to see Ethan coming toward them. The lines around his eyes looked shadowed.

“Cruz.” His tone was flat. Lifeless. What the actual hell was happening?

“Are you sure you want to do this? I can make the announcement,” Ethan said, his focus on Isla.

Was Ethan mad about Bruce? It wasn’t like they were friends. It would make Ethan’s job a little tricky, but the guy thrived on that stuff.

“I need to do it.” Isla looked down at the floor.

“Do you have another GM in mind?” Liam asked, feeling like every second that passed caused more tension. There were advisors for this kind of shit. She’d find someone else, and Ethan could turn him into a hero.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ethan’s words were clipped and whispered.

Isla lifted her head. “Bruce is staying. It’s me who’s leaving.”

Even when she said she wanted to go back to Colorado, he hadn’t believed her. He’d been with her last night. This team was hers, and not just because it’d been left to her. Even if she didn’t want to be sole owner, hell, even if she wanted to sell, there was no way she’d leave Bruce in charge.

Liam put both hands on his hips as Ethan glanced at his phone. “Someone tell me what’s going on. Now.”

Ethan glared. “Doesn’t concern you. You’re just a player.”

He saw Isla flinch, but she’d smoothed her features when she looked at him again. “He’s right, Mr. Cruz. This doesn’t concern you.”

She turned and walked away, heading for the press conference room. Ethan started to say something but, instead, followed after Isla.

Not knowing what else to do, he turned the monitor up so he could get some answers. Isla’s face filled the screen, and the click and whir of camera shutters filled the room. Ethan said something in her ear, and Bruce stood off to the side, his face smug. The camera panned slightly, and Liam just about choked. What was her dad doing here? Isla said he’d gone back to Colorado.

Folding his arms over his chest, his pulse racing, he waited.

She didn’t waste any time. “Thank you for coming. I’ll make this brief, and I won’t be taking questions. As many of you already know, I’m out of my element here. While I have the best of intentions, the Nashville Slammers deserve more. They deserve someone who understands the game and has a passion for it.”

She paused, and Liam’s chest constricted. She was coming to love the game, and she hadn’t even seen a live one yet. Her face had opened up and shone like the damn sun when she’d connected the bat with the ball.

Isla cleared her throat and looked down at her notes. Her voice was lower when she continued. “I’ve signed a letter of intent releasing the bulk of my ownership to my father, who many of you know played for the Slammers a long time ago. You will be in very good hands. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Ethan’s eyes widened as Isla walked off the set. Liam walked out of the room, intending to intercept and find out what was happening. But she didn’t come out. There was a side door exit that went down a different hallway. She’d avoided him. On purpose. And she’d given up the team.

She’d given up on them.