Page 118 of Hiding in the Outfield

“Yeah, they kind of all got blown to smithereens by a sassy Italian.” I drop my stare to my hands. “I kind of went and fell in love with him,” I whisper.

“No fucking duh.”

My gaze snaps up, eyes wide.

“Olander. You are literally a lovesick puppy trailing after Frankie. If you thought you were being subtle, I hate to break it to you, you had it painted on your fucking forehead for all to see. I swear, when he gives you attention, I can see your tail wag. You look at him the same way Shane looks at me.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Shane’s more golden retriever; you’re more chocolate lab.”

“Newfoundland,” I murmur.

He frowns. “What?”

“I’m a—Fuck. Nevermind. I think we’re losing track of the conversation,” I say weakly.

Stone chuckles. “Sorry. So. You were going to come out after baseball? I’m assuming still privately—or as privately as possible—like most have done.”

I nod.

“But…Frankie. You want to be with him now.” He frowns. “Okay, I’m starting to see why you were asking those questions. Frankie would have to be kept a secret. It’s not too hard with Paulie around, since Frankie can just be there because his brother is there. But you two alone would raise questions. Especially once you enter the big leagues and journalists start taking an interest in you. It’d be stressful as fuck trying to keep that a secret.”

“Frankie won’t be my secret. And I don’t want him to be.”

He shouldn’t ever be someone’s secret again. He deserves a man who’s proud to have him by their side.

“Which means you come out. Privately, with a backup plan for when you inevitably get outed. I hate to be blunt, but it will happen. There’s no way the tabloids don’t have a field day with this when they find out. Your agent and PR department can have a plan for that. Or…the other option is you come out publicly. Big statement.”

“Yeah,” I croak. Fuck. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

“Take a drink, Olander. We’re just discussing; nothing is happening today.”

I obey because I need to be handheld through everything right now. My heart is rounding the bases…and then going around the horn again just for fun.

The waiter arrives with our food, and I’m grateful for the distraction. That is until I realize I have to eat. My stomach is twisting just like the tagliatelle in my dish.

“This is a lot,” Stone says softly. “A couple months ago you were hiding; now you’re talking about jumping on stage—center stage. Let’s take a breath. I’m confident we can work this out, Jackson. In a way that doesn’t have you shitting yourself.”

Something about him using my first name settles me, almost feels like when Jake says it.

“Yeah, I already did that enough in Dominguez’s office,” I mutter.

“The fuck?” Stone’s eyebrows climb his forehead. “Really hoping that wasn’t in the literal sense.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, no. It was when I told him about what happened with me, Frankie, and Dev. Um. I guess Dominguez was the first person I ever came out to.”

Stone’s dark brown eyes go soft. “Kind of had the feeling you were behind Dev’s release.”

I shoot him a tremulous smile.

“Dominguez is a great skipper, all-around great guy. He’ll be behind you every step of the way if you come out. He was not happy I waited so long to tell him about the shit going on in the locker room.”

I wince. That I was a part of.

“You know…” Stone says thoughtfully. “Maybe this is kinda perfect. You already know there are two queer guys on the team. And Paulie’s a staunch ally⁠—”

“Three,” I murmur.

Stone pauses. “Three?” I see the moment it clicks, and he grins. “Ah, fuck. I forgot about Trent. Still can’t believe he’s messing around with a clubby.”

“A part of me doubts Turner gave him a choice. That dude has rebel written all over him.” Probably in ink somewhere amongst one of his many tattoos.