Page 49 of Hiding in the Outfield

She glances away and lets out a faraway sigh. “Living the dream.” She pauses. Frowns. “Well, minus the getting punched in the face.”

Our gazes meet, and we break out laughing.

“Are you still coming here in a few weeks?” Her voice lilts up hopefully.

“Yes. Flight scheduled. I have that client meeting…”

We share a disgusted look. With Nick.

Gen is one of the very few people who know what happened between me and Nick. That was also fueled by too many Mai Tais. Liquor and Frankie aren’t the best combination. I learned that lesson in my college days.

A beep comes through the speaker, and Gen groans. “Sorry, Frank. I need to take this. But I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. I miss you!”

“Miss you too, Gen. Love you.”

She shoots me a smile, mouthing the words back to me, and the call cuts out.

The happiness I was feeling slowly drifts away. I miss Gen. I don’t have anyone like her here. I mean, I have the boys, and I have Shelbs. But they’re not mine. They’re all on their way to Bridgeport. Jed’s already there. I’m sure Shane, Paulie, and East are next. Shelby and Maddox already live there.

I love them all to death, and I know they care about me the same way, but sometimes it feels like I can’t find a person for me. Friend or boyfriend.

What Gen said about me—I’m like a walking firework—she isn’t wrong. I’m a lot. Maybe I’m too much for people. All I know is straight men tend to not want to be friends with me, queer men just want me for one purpose, and the ladies… Well, the ladies are my best shot, but I just haven’t had that connection with anyone. I work with so many incredible women, but they’re not people I’m going to be anything more than friendly co-workers with. Not like Gen. Sometimes finding that close friend feels akin to dating. It’s just as hard. You have to have chemistry.

I know I don’t try as hard as I should. One, because I am almost always studying for an exam or working. And also because…I love my boys here. They fill my cup.

It’s just…that cup is going to be taken away from me at some point.

I scrub my hands over my face. Then wince. Okay, definitely still tender to the touch. I sigh. I can’t imagine I’ll get many bites when I’m looking like this.

“Hi, my name is Francesco, and I get into bar fights! I promise I’m a lovely person.”

Making friends is Future Frankie’s problem.

EIGHTEEN

JACKSON

The plastic cushioned railing of the dugout squeaks under my grip. It’s bottom of the ninth, and we’re down by one in our Thursday night game. Two outs. One out away from another painful loss.

“Our fate is in the hands of a kid who was playing Single-A a few weeks ago,” O’Neil mutters.

His arm flexes against mine. The tension is palpable. We’ve got the tying run on second with Roche. If Trent can just knock it in, we’re still in this. Big moment for our rookie. From what I’ve seen so far, he’s really good, but this is the highest-pressure situation he’s been in since he got the jump. And right now, we need a fucking win. Tempers are high with how many losses we’ve had.

Come on, Trent.

The pitcher sets, and my muscles lock tight. The pitch comes screaming in. Trent swings big and—contact! I jump up, O’Neil right there with me.

“Go, go, go!” O’Neil punches the air like he can propel the ball. Anything to give that ball more life.

It’s heading to the right field wall. Fuck, there’s no way it’s clearing it. But that’s okay. This is fine. The right fielder definitely isn’t getting there in time to catch it. It hits the back wall and takes an erratic jerk, flying right past the charging right fielder. Yes!

Roche crosses the plate, and a cheer goes up that shakes the entire dugout. We’re still in this baby! And Trent is hauling ass around second right now.

“Holy fucking shit. That kid’s got wheels,” O’Neil says in disbelief. “He’s gotta be faster than Michaels.”

“Run, Trent!” Nebs screams from somewhere to my left. We’re all hollering at him now.

The right fielder sends it soaring. The first baseman is waiting, ready for the relay to home if needed. And—shit—our third base coach is sending Trent!