Page 18 of Hiding in the Outfield

We’ve talked a lot about his college ball days. His eyes always light up when he talks about playing with Winters. I was curious if there was any bitterness or envy over Winters making it and not him, but he seemed to have always known college ball was where it was going to end for him. Now he wants to be able to help athletes keep their dreams alive. He’s a stand-up guy.

I’ve gotta say, it’s been kind of nice. Having a real friend.

EIGHT

FRANKIE

June.

This has been a week from hell. It’s been full of long-lost half-brothers and asshole fathers. Not mine.

I study Shaney-babe from across the bar. The team went out to Zingers tonight, and Maddy and I were informed the purpose was to help Shane get over his slump. We were in the car and on our way right after a quick trip to my closet.

A bar and alcohol aren’t going to fix my poor dove. My muscles go rigid. His vile swine of a father broke him. That man was abhorrent. I hated what he said about me, about the queer community, but the worst of it all was when that man looked Shane dead in the eye and denied acknowledging Shane as his son. Insulting Shane’s sexuality was the cherry on top of a shit-sundae.

“Frankie,” Jed greets me.

“Hey, handsome.” I sweep my gaze over him. Looking fine as always. I glance at my brother. “Hey, ugly.”

Paulie’s expression goes flat. Then he dives on me. And he touches my fucking hair. I growl and spin until I get my arm around his neck and squeeze—hard. Paulie coughs. He may be the professional athlete, but I work out, bitches.

“What have I said about touching my hair?” I grit out.

“Not to,” Paulie whines.

I let him go and run my hand through my hair, hoping it’s not totally ruined. Curse my little brother! “Damn fucking straight. You do that again, and I will castrate you.”

“Uh… Why are people getting castrated?” comes an uncertain voice. A familiar, uncertain voice.

Olander shifts on his feet, his gaze darting between all of us until it lands on mine. My heart trips over itself. I barely hold back my whimper. The man is quite literally the most beautiful human to grace this earth. Every time his eyes fall on mine, the addictive pull he has on me strengthens.

“I just wanted to get a tray of shots,” he says slowly. “Maybe I should come back when…my balls are safe?”

I lean back and cross my arms. I rake my stare down him. Tight black tee. Biceps popping. Jeans hugging those powerful thighs. To say I’m starving would be an understatement. “Oh, Ollie-babe, your balls are definitely safe with me.” I wink.

Olander’s eyes go wide, and his cheeks flush the prettiest pink.

I inwardly swoon.

“Frankie, behave,” Maddox and Easton say at the same time. They grin at each other. “Jinx.”

Ugh. Why are those two so adorable?

“Leave him the fuck alone.” Devereux’s growl slices through the group. He steps up to the bar next to me and shoves my shoulder. Hard.

My temperature goes from comfortable to boiling. I don’t budge. This homophobic asshole doesn’t get to push me around. No. Fucking. Way.

I lean into him. “Careful, honey,” I purr. “I’m touching you. You might catch the gay. And wouldn’t that be a shame to the entire queer population?”

“Back. The fuck. Off,” Dev hisses.

We lock eyes, and oh the murder I am committing in my head. I dare him to touch me again. I fucking dare him. I would love to show this big, bad, never-going-to-make-it athlete that a gay man can put him on his ass.

“Dev, relax, man,” Olander says with an awkward laugh. “It’s Nebs’s brother, for fuck’s sake. He’s just joking around.”

My gaze shoots to Olander. That might have been the first attempt I’ve heard him push back against Dev.

Paulie steps in and pulls on my arm. “Not worth it,” he mutters. He pulls me aside and lowers his voice. “I don’t understand why you and Maddox give Olander the time of day.”