Page 117 of Hiding in the Outfield

“A supportive agent makes all the difference in this business, especially one who is supportive of all things.” His eyebrows lift meaningfully. “I’ve always had one…considering I’m Jed Stone Junior…but I know not all minor leaguers get one until they’re closer to The Show. Do you not have an agent?”

I grimace. “Not anymore. He, ah, was a buddy of my father’s. My dad acted as my agent unofficially, and the plan was to have his buddy—who’s licensed—take over once I get a big-league contract. But, yeah, he’s of the same mind as Dad. So definitely not happening.”

“Why don’t I get you in contact with my agent? I don’t know if he has room for another athlete, but either way, he can get you in contact with someone in the agency who has room. They’re good people there.”

“Okay, great. Yeah.” I pick at the plastic band around my silverware. “I’d like his contact info, thanks.”

“Relax, Olander. I’m not going to bite.”

I blow out a breath and run a hand through my hair. “Sorry, I know. Just a lot going on in my head right now.”

The waiter stops back over, and I realize we haven’t even looked at our menus. Shit.

“Two bologneses,” Stone says and shoots me a smirk. The waiter says he’ll be right over with bread and oil and leaves us. “Now you can see how it compares to Frankie’s.”

“Guarantee it’s no contest.”

“I have a feeling even if it were better, it’d still be no contest.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.” Because it wasn’t Frankie who made it.

“So, your dad… Shane mentioned your brother paid a visit, that you came out to them.”

I nod, expecting the pain to hit, but it’s surprisingly absent. “Yeah, yesterday. My parents took it like I expected. My brother…was a big shock. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m accepting it quicker than I thought I would?”

Or maybe I’m still in shock. I don’t know. All I know is when I woke up this morning in Frankie’s arms, I’d felt…so much fucking lighter.

“I walked into that diner expecting to lose my family, but I walked out with a stronger relationship with my brother.”

“I’m sorry your mom and dad are pieces of shit,” Stone says bluntly.

A laugh barks from me. “Uh, yeah, me fucking too. It’s really confusing, but I’m kind of just happy it’s over, I think. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

Stone shrugs a shoulder. “I think it does. It’s closure. Not the result you wanted, but it was an unknown that hovered over you. So now you can move on. Plus, only you get to decide how you process it. If anyone judges you for that, fuck them.”

Truth.

The waiter drops off the bread, lets us know the food will be out shortly, and makes himself scarce. I’m grateful we didn’t get a chatty waiter. He seems to recognize that we don’t want to be bothered. Or maybe it’s Stone’s resting grump face scaring him off.

Stone picks up a slice of bread and tears off a piece as he watches me. “People put too much emphasis on blood. I’m a firm believer that blood doesn’t equate to family. Shane’s mom has been more of a mother to me than my birth mother ever was. Just because you share genes doesn’t mean you owe them anything. They’ve proven they’re undeserving of you.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve felt more at home at the townhouse than I ever did in my childhood home.” I absently swirl my bread in some oil, the yellow soaking into the soft white bread.

It wasn’t just my dad’s views. My relationship with my father has always felt more like a coach-player one versus a father-son one. And Mom…well, we were Mom’s trophies. Acid churns in my gut. Her handsome, talented athlete sons that she was able to provide Dad.

“It doesn’t make it easy, though,” Jed adds. “I don’t want to imply that it is. Doing what you did, expecting the outcome you did, took real balls. God, I was pissing myself when my dad found out, and he’d never been anything but my biggest supporter. But I more wanted you to know, just because you don’t have your parents anymore, doesn’t mean you don’t have a family. We’ve grown a tiny bit fond of you, Olander. Fuck knows why.”

A breath of laughter falls from me.

He nods toward my bracelet. “You’re one of us now.”

One of them. I shoot him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Pebs.” I’m not the best at putting how I’m feeling into words, but I really appreciate Stone’s support. Sometimes it feels like he has all the answers.

He finishes off his piece of bread and washes it down with some water, setting the glass down with a resounding thunk. “All right, let’s stop dancing around it. The only dancing I enjoy is Shane on me. You came out. Why? Your interest in me being out. Why?”

My hand tightens around my bread, and my stomach twists. I drop the now pulverized slice and dust my hands off over my plate. “So, I had a plan. One that involved a certain part of my life starting once my baseball career finished. Baseball has always been enough for me; so while I knew it would be hard at times…” And lonely. So fucking lonely. “I accepted that was the best option for me.”

“Well, we all know what they say about the best laid plans,” Stone says, his lips curving.