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to start and not worrying about you worrying, okay?”
    God, I have to tell him about the night at the bar. He has to know everything that’s behind Johnson’s motivation to ditch Dad and Brody. “Dad, me and Lenny were at this—”
    “Annie, please,” Dad says. “Later, okay? We’ll talk later. I need to focus.”
    “But, Dad—” I protest and then stop after rationalizing that this information won’t help him help Brody. It will only make the objective seem that much more difficult. Like they’re standing in a bigger hole than they originally thought. “Okay, I’ll…I’ll see you later. Good luck.”
    Lenny is waiting for me in the suites reserved for players and families. It’s a fancy room with all kinds of food. As much as I love to eat, I can’t even look at any of it. I’m too nervous. Lenny introduces me to her mom and some of the other players’ wives and kids.
    “I’m so excited for this party tonight,” Lenny says. “It makes suffering through the game worth it.”
    “Yep, I’m totally suffering through this game.” I stare out the windows, watching the team warm up. An hour passes and I don’t see Brody at all, but Dad’s in the dugout. He looks really good in his uniform. I’m going to be so pissed off if he doesn’t get to wear it again.
    We’ve only been in Kansas City for a couple weeks, but I already like it here. Dad is happier than I’ve ever seen him, and Mom has no idea where we are. Grams seems to be calm and content with her new caretaker, Caroline. Lenny is turning out to be a pretty awesome friend for a spoiled rich girl who has Daddy issues.
    I don’t want this to be over.
    Johnson passes through our suite to get to the owner’s box, greeting various family members. He catches my eye, and I swear he glares, silently passing a word of warning through that glare. I turn away from him quickly— God, we’re screwed .
    When Dad disappears through the dugout, I’m too antsy to sit here any longer. “Hey, Lenny? I left something in my dad’s office, save a seat for me?”
    I’m not even sure what I need to tell him, just that I need to say something. Some kind of magic words that will make everything work out. I managed to do it when I convinced him to take this job and move to Kansas City. Maybe there’s something that will work magic today. But unfortunately, Dad’s not in his office and I can’t exactly go into the dugout to have a father/daughter chat. Even if I could get past the security guards, he’d be pissed at me.
    Before I can form a new plan, I hear the loud echo of someone vomiting in the bathroom stalls. Oh no . “Dad?” I say, my voice bouncing off the empty locker room walls. “Are you in here?”
    The stall door opens, but it’s not Dad who steps out. It’s Jason Brody.
    I try to turn around and hide, but he sees me right away, closes his eyes, and sighs before leaning over the sink, splashing water on his face, rinsing his mouth out. “Great…just great,” he mumbles to himself.
    I should leave, but I’m frozen in place. The pressure, the stress he must feel right now, it’s right here in the air between us. And the fact that he’s handling it all alone, that he’s probably aware, like Dad, that the team owner is trying get rid of him, softens my attitude toward Brody. A little.
    “You okay?” I ask finally.
    He keeps his eyes on the mirror, grabs a bottle of Listerine resting on the counter, chugs it, swishes, and spits. “I’m wonderful.” I wait while he grabs a towel, drying off his face. He finally looks right at me. “Your dad’s out on the field.”
    “Right. Sorry.” I turn around and head for the exit. Brody breezes past me, wringing his hands together in front of him. We get all the way to hall that leads to the Royals’ dugout before, on impulse, I reach out and grab his arm. Magic words . He needs them just as much as Dad. Despite my feelings toward Brody, their futures here are tied together.
    He turns to face