Page 122 of Hiding in the Outfield

He blows out a breath and runs a hand through his damp hair. “Okay. A tiny bit secret. I just…I needed advice.”

I push his shirt from his shoulders, tense shoulders.

“I’ve been contemplating something. And I’ve been taking some steps toward it.”

I grab the hem of his white tee. He lifts his arms obediently, and I pull it over his head.

“I knew Stone would have thought through everything already since he’s going to be in a similar spot soon too. I’m pretty sure he always planned on it happening eventually.”

I slide my hands up his abs and over his thick pecs. “What are you dancing around, Jackie?”

“I’m making plans for…coming out.”

My hands freeze.

Those blue eyes lock on mine. “I talked some strategy with Pebs. I think I have an idea of how I’d like to go about it, but there are a lot of moving pieces, one of which is getting signed with an agent who will stand behind me. I, uh, actually have a meeting with Stone’s agent tomorrow morning.”

My mouth opens and closes, but nothing surfaces. Everything slows to a snail’s pace. His words are swirling around me, but I can’t seem to make them out.

“Frank?” A hand lightly grips my jaw. “Babe? You in there? It looks like I lost you.”

And then everything speeds up, and it all comes crashing into me.

I’m making plans for coming out.

“You’re what?” I screech. “Jackson, what are you talking about? You’ve just begun accepting yourself. Do you remember what you were like when we first started? Twitchy and paranoid and terrified. And now you’re going to be an out professional athlete where you’re the center of the media’s attention? You literally just came out to your parents! Don’t you think you should, you know, let that settle a little first before you dive into the deep end with the sharks?”

“I know it seems fast⁠—”

I scoff. “Zero to fucking sixty, Jackson.”

This is ridiculous. Outrageous. Ludicrous. Nonsensical. Have I hit all the synonyms?

I throw up my hands. They’re flying all over the place. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m flapping about like a deranged flamingo—because while deranged, I’m still fucking pretty.

“I don’t understand. This is risky, Jackie. And it’s going to add so much more stress and pressure on you. Don’t you think it makes sense to at least start your major league career before you consider this? You being out is very different from someone like me being out. I’m no one important⁠—”

“You are everything,” he cuts me off.

I still. My arms drift back to my sides. He’d said that last night…the night he’d said three other words. Words I’m not even sure he knows he said.

He cradles my jaw. “You. Are. Everything.”

I swallow against the lump desperately trying to form, and his thumb skates over my throat, chasing the movement. The organ in my chest takes flight.

“It’s not going to be rash or impulsive,” he says softly. “I’ll start slow. Just the people who need to know in the franchise, my coaches, my teammates. I need to discuss with the agent tomorrow, but I’ve gotta believe this guy’s good. Stone wouldn’t hire anyone but the best. I’m still pretty invisible, so we might manage to go unnoticed. But if not, that’s what I’ll have an agent for. I’ll do this at the pace I want and am ready for, while being armed for all possibilities. We’ll handle anything that comes our way.”

“We?” I search those hypnotic silver-blue eyes, and my hands land on his waist.

“I know you said I needed to do this for me. And I am, Frankie. Getting to have you by my side, getting to acknowledge you as my boyfriend, that’s for me. It’s what I want more than anything.”

“Holy fucking shit.” The words fly from me in a stunned breath.

His lips twitch.

This is… This is… “Did you take a baseball to the brain?”

He drops his forehead to mine, shoulders shaking. “Nope. Brain in very good working order. Mental faculties at one hundred percent.”