At 6:05 PM on Friday, the scanner at Gate C blinked red.
The guard looked at his screen.
Then he looked at me.
"Ma'am, you're on the list."
"What list?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't look at me again either.
Rhett had left me a ticket at will call.
He wasn't pitching tonight.
He'd said I should see one game where nobody looked at me.
About twenty fans stood in line behind me.
Most of them had their phones out before the guard finished.
Todd Kimbrough came through the turnstile from the inside.
Two security guards followed him.
He was smiling.
"Callie."
"I wish we were meeting on a nicer night."
He handed me two sheets of paper.
The first was a trespass notice.
CY-2026-0412
Barred from all Catawba Yards property · Duration: lifetime
The second was a letter from club counsel.
One line was in bold.
Return all property removed from Section 112 on September 5, 2026.
"Lifetime," I said.
"For sitting in my own seat?"
"For harassing a guest," Todd said.
He lowered his voice, but not much.
"Garrett filed a 50B this morning."
"Hearing's the twenty-eighth."
"Same day as your review, I hear."
I already knew about the 50B.
A deputy had handed it to me on Kaitlyn's porch at two o'clock.
The judge had denied the emergency order.
Until the twenty-eighth, I could go anywhere I wanted.
Almost anywhere.
"We'd hate for a teacher to have a protective order on file," Todd said.
He said it like a weather report.
Then he turned to the twenty phones.
"Folks, that clip cleared ten million."
"Two hundred fifty thousand says it stays a love story."
He laughed, so they'd know it was a joke.
A few of them laughed too.
I didn't know what the number meant.
I wrote it down in my head anyway.
I walked to the bench by the plaza fountain and sat down.
My tote sat on my lap.
The sign was inside, folded.
The players' gate opened at 6:12.
Rhett came out in his warmup jacket and sneakers.
The fans in line saw him and went quiet.
He sat down on the bench beside me.
"They banned me," I said.
"For life."
He looked at the gate.
Then at Todd.
"Then I'll watch from here."
Todd's smile got smaller.
The phones swung toward the bench.
I unfolded the letter and read it out loud.
I used my read-aloud voice, the one that reaches the back of the rug.
"'Property removed from Section 112.'"
I looked up at Todd.
"It's foam, Mr. Kimbrough."
"Why does a ballclub want it back?"
"It's club property," Todd said.
"Then the club made it."
A woman in line lowered her hot dog.
"The CLUB made the sign?!"
Todd held up both palms to the phones.
"Enjoy the game, folks."
He went back through the turnstile.
The guards went after him.
Rhett watched the gate swing shut.
"My agent's lawyer—"
"No."
"Callie, he's good."
"I'm not your charity."
He took that without arguing.
He just stayed on the bench.
At 6:30, his phone buzzed.
He read it and sighed.
"Manager."
"Go pitch, or whatever you do on Fridays," I said.
"I chew seeds and judge people."
"Then go judge."
He went.
At 9:30 PM, I sat on Kaitlyn's kitchen floor with the petition.
Kaitlyn and Wyatt were at a hotel.
The couch could wait.
File No. 26CVD041873
Filed 09/18/26, 10:12 AM
I read every line.
He'd sworn to all of it.
She tracked my location without my consent.
She came to my office uninvited on September 2.
The sign was handmade by me at home (Sharpie on poster board).
No one paid me or arranged anything.
At the bottom was his signature, under oath.
I opened my own phone.
I scrolled back to Wednesday, September 2.
11:48 AM.
Bring my lunch to the office babe, forgot it again.
Turkey, no tomato.
I'd driven it over on my lunch break.
Then I opened Find My.
Garrett started sharing his location with you · Dec 14, 2024
He'd set it up himself.
He'd said it was romantic.
I took screenshots of both.
Then I took the sign out of my tote.
I hadn't opened it since Section 112.
The foam crackled along the fold.
The front still said what it said.
I turned it over.
A white sticker sat near the bottom edge.
It was the kind of label that comes out of a printer.
OSPREY STUDIOS PRINT
"SORRY CALLIE" 24×36 FOAM
THU 09/03/26 2:15 PM
Thursday.
The same day as his text.
T's guys printed the sign today.
Not Sharpie.
Not his kitchen.
I photographed the label.
I sent Rhett both photos, the label and the text.
He answered in under a minute.
Don't let go of that sign.
I read the label one more time.
JOB 0903-14 · REQ: G. MABRY