Page 63 of Hiding in the Outfield

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

“We’re a mess. I can clean us up. Just need a second before my legs work.”

“Later.”

I push up until our faces are inches apart. I search those hazy blue eyes, that bright silver now stormy from his orgasm.

“I want to soak this in,” he whispers. “This moment. For a little while longer.”

My heart stutters. I nod, then drag a kiss over his lips. I settle back on him, my head falling into the crook of his neck. He’s right. This is big for him. No need to rush.

Life moves too fast as it is.

This will be over before we know it.

TWENTY-TWO

JACKSON

I park my beat-up F-150 in the players’ lot. We’re set to get on the bus in two hours, but I wanted to fit in a quick workout before I’m sitting on my ass for seven hours. I almost didn’t. Getting out of bed and leaving Frankie was nearly impossible, especially with a week of away games coming up.

What a game changer—sleeping with someone else, having someone in my arms, waking up to someone. I don’t think Frankie understands what it means that he’s giving me this.

If I’d really wanted, I could have found a discreet hookup to get off with. I’m not at a point where I’m all that recognizable, though my size is a giveaway. But I could have taken a drive somewhere during the season—definitely not when I’m back home during off-season—and made a no-faces, no-names thing work. My chest constricts, and my hands immediately turn clammy. All the air in my truck has disappeared. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t have.

God, Frankie… He’s… I have no words to describe the feeling inside me. The sex has been amazing—the few times we’ve done stuff. I let out a slow breath. Do not think about that right now.

But it’s not the sex that has me walking on clouds with a ridiculous smile on my face. No, it’s getting the closeness, the parts that feel like a relationship, that sometimes overwhelm me. I’m filled with so much gratitude, I swear I’ll burst from it.

All my friends, my brother, my teammates, they all got to have that growing up. Someone to call at night, to text throughout the day, to hold in their arms or be held by, to simply just be present with. Those crushes who have you walking around with a goofy smile on your face? That wasn’t ever in the cards for me. And it’s not something I thought I’d experience until after my baseball career was over.

I grip my steering wheel and let my head fall to it. I squeeze my eyes against the pressure building there. It’s just really fucking nice. To feel like I’m not alone for once. That I have somebody. That I’m allowed to have somebody.

My phone dings.

I grab it from the console. A notification of a new text message fills the screen, and I tap it. And stare blankly at the messages that pop up…and don’t stop popping up.

Michaels

Yoooooo.

Creating a group chat so we can help our newest recruit.

Bring on the gay sex tips!

The chat group title changes to Just the Tip.

Winters

I’m scared.

Barnes

I never agreed to this.

Stone

I don’t understand why I’m included in this.