Summary:
Best friends on opposing teams explore whether there's a way to fall in love without losing the careers they've devoted their lives to.
Mason is adrift. His marriage has failed and he no longer loves the game that has consumed his life. To make matters worse, he can’t stop wishing he’d been honest with his best friend years earlier.
But that might have been worse. Even if Sean knew Mason loved him, the two couldn’t have been together without giving up the game, and baseball is everything to Sean.
Sean didn’t keep secrets from his friend. Mason is one of the few people who know Sean’s staying in the closet until his baseball career comes to a close.
When Mason admits he’s always known he was bisexual, Sean doesn’t know how to feel.
Hurt.
Angry.
Excited.
Mason is the one man he’d consider breaking his rules for. The first time they touch, he knows a single night could never be enough. But can the two of them find a way to fall in love without it costing Sean the career he still loves?
Wild Pitch is the first in the Homeruns series, formerly published under the pen name Sloan Johnson.
Summary:
No one knew Jason loved before. Now, there’s a younger man tempting him to live openly and proudly.
Jason Klein’s living with the fallout from a decision he swore was right at the time. He had to hide his love away, which left him alone to mourn when he found out the man he gave his heart to died.
He’s not sure he’s ready to let himself move on.
Until he meets Cam Morgan…
Despite being out and proud, Cam Morgan takes his best friend up on his offer to move to sports-loving Milwaukee. The last thing he wants to do when he gets to town is party with a bunch of jocks. Sure, they're “professional athletes,” but Cam is convinced that more money doesn't mean more acceptance.
He certainly doesn't expect to meet Jason, the Mavericks’ catcher who breaks all his jock stereotypes.
What starts out as one hot, sweaty night together quickly grows into something deeper. Jason welcomes Cam into his home and his life, but now he has to decide whether helping Cam is worth stepping up to the plate.
Curve Ball is the second book in the Homeruns series, which can be enjoyed as a standalone but the series is a winner when read in order.
When Eric is unable to help his friend recover, he has to put his feelings aside for a second time. He never imagined the man who could help would be the glue that bound them together.
Drew Jackson had it all: a family who loves him, a tight circle of friends, and he’s a rising star with the Milwaukee Mavericks. Then, it all begins to unravel when the man he’s loved since they were kids falls for Drew’s teammate.
He makes a critical mistake in the playoffs he’s not sure he’ll be able to recover from.
And then, his world really crashes around him…
Eric Sapp may no longer play for the Mavericks, but he’s still one of the guys. After stopping a brutal attack, Eric is forced to face the feelings that have been growing for his roommate, Drew. That’d be much easier if Drew wasn’t hell-bent on pushing everyone away as he recovers.
Neither of them were counting on Bryce Shaw. He and Drew enjoyed the one night they spent together, but knew it was unlikely they’d be anything more since they lived in different parts of the country. When Bryce is relocated to help a failing LGBT homeless outreach, he wants to explore something more with the Mavericks’ short stop.
As much as Eric wishes he could be the one to help his friend, he knows Bryce holds the key to Drew’s recovery. Will pushing the two back together be the biggest mistake of his life or will they all learn there is strength in numbers?
Triple Play is the third book in the Homeruns Series, previously published under the pen name Sloan Johnson.
Wild Pitch #1
Prologue
The four of us lined up, two on each side of Mason in front of the stainless steel bean at Millennium Park. We tried to keep from bitching too much about the fact that we’d all rather be anywhere other than posing for wedding pictures. That wasn’t entirely true; we’d gladly freeze our asses off to make Mason’s future wife happy if she wasn’t the Ice Queen. It seemed fitting that the weather had turned unseasonably cold the night before their nuptials.
I stood directly to Mason’s left, plastering on a smile I hoped no one would realize was fake. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep from flagging down a taxi and throwing him inside.
The photographer snapped a few shots and checked them on the LCD screen of his camera. “Okay, those look good,” he called out. Even he looked miserable, and he was dressed in a thick wool coat and bright scarf. “Let’s get a few of just the groom and his best man, then the groom with his father, and we can get someplace a bit warmer.”
The rest of the guys tried to act cool as they speed walked over to where our winter coats were piled on the ground, leaving just the two of us alone. “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You” by Heart blared from Mason’s pocket, signaling at least the fifth call of the day from Teresa. For all of her obsessing over every detail of this wedding, being superstitious about the bride and groom speaking before the wedding apparently wasn’t on her radar. I was surprised she hadn’t driven down here so she could micromanage the photographer. Anything less than perfection was unacceptable to her.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mason answered, flipping me off as I rolled my eyes. It was immature, but I couldn’t help it. He was so in love with her he couldn’t see what a controlling, manipulative bitch she was. I couldn’t hear what he was saying as he walked away, but it sounded like she was freaking about something. Again. She’d made Bridezilla look calm and laid-back about three phone calls ago.
Mason scrubbed at the back of his neck as he disconnected the call. When he turned to face me, he looked miserable.
“There’s still time to back out,” I teased. “We could jump in a cab and be at the airport in less than twenty minutes. By the time people start piling into the church, we could be at cruising altitude on our way to somewhere warm and sunny.”
My cock twitched at the thought of joining the mile-high club with Mason. It’d never happen, but the fact he was unwavering in his straightness had never kept my mind from wandering into fantasy territory. Mason stepped closer, reaching up to straighten my tie. I shivered when the backs of his fingers brushed against my chest. It was searing heat that did little to ease the icy cold. His gaze remained fixed on mine as he smoothed my tie.
I blinked, telling myself I had to be imagining the look of longing in his green eyes. This was the first time I’d seen any doubt in his gaze. It was as though he might actually be considering my suggestion.
“I can’t do that.” He sighed, curling his fingers around the lapels of my wool tuxedo jacket. His shoulders slumped forward briefly before he squared them and stood tall. “This is what I want, Sean. I know the two of you have had your differences, but I can’t think of many women other than her who would put up with me.”
“That’s no reason to get married, Mace,” I argued, trying to keep my voice quiet enough that we wouldn’t be overheard. The other groomsmen quickly turned away when I glanced their direction. I wasn’t saying anything the rest of them hadn’t thought, but none of them were backing me. They were willing to let Mason make the biggest mistake of his life. I couldn’t do that, and it had nothing to do with how I felt about him. “You don’t marry someone because they’ll put up with you. This is a big deal. You should be doing it because you can’t imagine a life without her.”
Over the years, our friends had joked that Mason and I were like an old married couple, not only because of how we bickered at times, but also because of times like this. Mason didn’t shy away from getting into someone’s personal space and had no problem seeking comfort when he needed it. Mason’s parents were old hippies who didn’t believe in raising their son to believe that men should hide their emotions and he didn’t. Right now, he looked utterly terrified of getting into the town car to and heading over to the church. I’d seen guys going to prison for life who handled their fate with more ease and grace.
“I know, Sean, but this will be good for me,” he conceded. I was about to tell him how screwed up it was that he hadn’t once mentioned how much he loved her when his dad, Bill, joined us.
“Everything okay over here?” He raised an eyebrow, more to me than his son. I got the impression he wasn’t thrilled with this expansion to the family either.
“Yeah, Dad. We’re all good.” He patted his dad’s back before walking back to the front of the sculpture.
I followed, wondering how I’d get through the ceremony without blurting out my objections when the minister asked for them. Mason and Teresa were the last two people who had any place getting married, and that wasn’t only because I’d wanted him since we met.
Twenty miserable minutes later, we were dismissed with strict instructions to be ready for more pictures an hour later. The short ride to the church would have been somber had Mason’s cousin not brought his iPod with him. I draped my arm over the back of the seat and leaned closer to Mason.
“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” I told him. I stood by my statements, but he didn’t need my shit on his big day. He needed me to suck up my feelings and support him. That’s what good friends did.
Mason shrugged. “I get it, Sean. The two of you have always been like fire and ice. I don’t think that’ll ever change. It’d be nice if my best friend and my wife could be in the same room without wanting to rip each other’s throats out.”
His hand dropped to my knee and my entire body stiffened. I looked around nervously, wondering what the guys would think if they saw my arm around his shoulders and his thumb rubbing the soft wool of my pants. I reminded my now achingly hard dick that he didn’t mean anything by the gesture, that Mason was just being Mason. The faint smile he flashed before straightening in his seat felt like both the greatest reward and a punch in the gut.
It hit me that I was just as much of a problem in his mind as she was in mine. All Mason wanted was for everyone to get along. His ability to play the peacekeeper most of the time was one of the many traits that attracted me to him. If it meant not seeing him threatening to crumble, I’d promise him just about anything. “Mace, I’m never going to go out of my way to be her buddy, but I promise I’ll work harder at trying to get along. For you.”
Mace looked up at me with bright eyes. “Yeah?”
“Of course,” I said quickly. “It’ll be tough, but I’m not going to be your Yoko.”
Mason wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. “Thanks, Sean.”
The car pulled up in front of the church before I could make an ass of myself. Mason and I got out first, and Bill greeted us by thrusting two gloves and a ball into my chest. “The boy needs to settle down. Take him out to the courtyard and throw the ball around for a bit. I’ll come and get you when it’s time to go inside.”
Catch. I could do this. It’d been a long time since I’d thrown the ball just for fun, but I agreed that it was just what Mason needed to keep from freaking the hell out about saying ‘I do’. And I could focus on not hitting him in the face rather than trying to figure out how to get Mason to walk away before it was too late.
Curve Ball #2
1
Cam
Music wailed through the built-in speaker system as I sliced strawberries. I still couldn’t believe this was home for the time being. When I graduated and my employment fell through, I worried that I’d wind up on the streets of Boston or forced to rent a dinky apartment with three other men. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Drew telling me to pack my shit and get up to Milwaukee.
Drew had recently been traded to the Mavericks and was renting a house from some guy who’d been traded to a team out west. I couldn’t imagine having a home and knowing that you’d still have to leave at a moment’s notice. If I had a killer log cabin on the lake with hardwood floors throughout and a kitchen any chef would drool over, I’m not sure any amount of money would make it worth packing up to leave.
Then again, it worked pretty well for me. Drew wasn’t adapting well to living alone and he was going crazy with so much room to himself. The downside was that he was dragging me out less than two days after I got here for some baseball barbecue thing. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the evening hanging out with a bunch of jocks.
Just the thought of it was enough to give me hives. Drew was the only athlete I hung out with back when we were in high school, and that was only because we’d been friends since I moved to southwestern Wisconsin when I was ten.
Even then, I could tell I was different from the other kids in our backwoods town. Drew was the one who never gave me a hard time about the fact that I’d rather shop and create crazy dishes in the kitchen than do anything outside.
By the time we were in high school, the asshole jocks had made a sport out of slamming me into lockers and shoving me in the garbage cans under the bleachers. When Drew asked where the bruises came from, I never told him. Some of them had come from my uncle, so I blamed them all on him rather than driving a wedge between him and his teammates.
“What in the hell is that?” Drew asked as he scrubbed a towel over his dark brown hair. I swatted his hand when he reached for a handful of perfectly sliced berries.
“It’s a trifle,” I informed him as I started layering cake into the bottom of the bowl.
“What the hell is a trifle? And why are you making one to take over to Sean’s house?” He made his way around the center island to the fridge and started pulling out bags of lunch meat and cheese to make a sandwich. It was a good thing he made piles of money, because it seemed like he was always eating. And yet it didn’t seem there was an ounce of fat on his body. It wasn’t fair.
I sighed heavily when he left the empty bags and crumbs all over the black granite countertop. Once I didn’t feel like a guest in his home, we’d have to talk about the fact that there was no maid and I wasn’t going to play Felix to his Oscar. I threw away the trash and wiped down the counter while he sat on one of the stools at the island watching me.
“You told me I was in charge of something to take with us,” I explained to him. “I found that bowl in one of the cupboards and it inspired me. Have you ever even had a trifle?”
“Uh…no,” he deadpanned. “It sounds like some sort of frou-frou crap, and that’s not my style.”
“It’s pudding, whipped cream, cake and berries. What part of that isn’t your style?” I teased, throwing his words back at him. “For as long as I’ve known you, anything edible is right up your alley. If it’s sweet, it’s dangerous to keep around you.”
“True, but still…” He pushed back from the counter and grabbed his T-shirt off the back of the couch. “These are the type of guys who think burgers and a cooler full of beer is high-class.”
“Sounds like a challenge. Someday, those boys are all going to find wives who aren’t going to settle for bar or cookout food,” I said, as though I was the foremost authority on sports wives. “They’re going to expect highbrow dinner parties. Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let this kitchen go to waste by making a pan of brownies.”
“First, you’re wrong about the wives and girlfriends. A lot of them would rather sit around the campfire with a cooler of beer than get dressed up for pretentious dinner parties. Second, most of the guys who’ll be there tonight are happily single. And third, what’s wrong with brownies? I’d kiss you if there was a pan of gooey, chocolatey goodness sitting here right now.”
“Yet another reason I didn’t make brownies,” I told him. “First, you’d devour every last crumb which would annoy me because I’d have to make more. You’re like an annoying brother sometimes. Second, I don’t need you shoving your tongue down my throat because I baked.”
Drew barked out a laugh that echoed off the exposed beams of the ceiling. “As if! I’ve seen you staring at my ass when you don’t realize that I can see you. You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I made a move.”
I ignored him. Sure, Drew had a great body, but any appraisal of it was solely in appreciation of a good looking man. I meant it; Drew was my best friend, my brother despite not being related. He’d always been the constant in my life, although we didn’t see each other often now that we were grown. Even if the thought didn’t make me squirm, I wasn’t about to screw all of that up by getting involved with him.
I finished arranging the last of the strawberry slices on top of the bowl and admired my handiwork. It wasn’t anything fancy, at least not in my mind, but making something I could be proud of soothed my nerves. Since graduation, I had barely made more than the simplest dinners. I had been too stressed over where I was going to go when my lease ran out at the end of June.
“Whatever,” I scoffed as I pushed past him. “I have to get ready. Don’t touch the trifle or I may have to break a finger.”
“Harsh!” Drew yelled as I walked up the stairs to my loft bedroom. “Just remember that we have to be out the door in fifteen minutes. No one is going to care if you have a few hairs out of place or if your outfit isn’t perfect.”
“No, but I’ll care,” I quipped. “And really, isn’t it all about me?” I was joking, and I didn’t have to worry about Drew taking me seriously. He’d always given me a hard time when we were younger because I couldn’t go out in public if I wasn’t at my best.
More than once, he insinuated that I wouldn’t get picked on as much as I did if I wasn’t so worried about my appearance. To me, making sure I didn’t look like second-hand castoffs gave my uncle one less thing to bitch at me about.
Drew muttered something before his words were muffled by the television. SportsLine again. I briefly wondered if the television received any other channels because it was always playing the all sports channel. I didn’t bother griping about it because I figured it was part of the job for him or something.
Had I known we’d be going out, I would have packed differently. Most of my clothes were still neatly rolled in plastic totes out in the back of my Nissan Rogue. I’d start hauling them inside, but Drew would seriously flip his shit if I told him I had to find the outfit I wanted to wear if he was going to drag me out in public.
This was my only shot to make a decent first impression. In the end, I wound up choosing a lime green gingham button-down and khakis because they’d go with the black Vans I was growing tired of. I missed the rest of my shoes.
I missed all of my stuff and couldn’t wait to have a chance to unpack. I’d planned on doing that tonight, but then this barbecue came up.
* * *
My heart started racingas Drew drove down the relatively quiet, suburban neighborhood where his friend Sean lived. I didn’t know much, except he was Drew’s teammate and this party was not only because the guys had a few days off for the All-Star break, but also because it was his partner’s birthday.
I remembered hearing about the two of them when they were outed last season right about the time Drew joined the team. Between it being all over the news and Drew’s hero-worship of his newly out and proud teammate, Sean Tucker was nearly a household name to me.
Expensive cars ranging from souped-up imports to high-speed luxury models lined both sides of the street. This was more than the small, intimate gathering Drew led me to believe it was going to be. The only thing I hated more than crowds were crowds of strangers who may or may not be thrilled to have yet another gay guy in their midst.
From what Drew told me, he’d taken up residence in ththe closet Sean had come out of. He figured some of them had a clue because he never paid attention to the girls hanging all over him. It probably had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering to firm butts and broad shoulders. I doubted he’d ever done so in the locker room, but if they went out after games, he’d likely been busted without realizing it.
“Come on, it’ll be fine,” Drew assured me, as if the panic was written all over my face. It probably was. Thankfully he couldn’t see the fear in my eyes because they were hidden behind a pair of trendy aviators. Yeah, I was more than just a bit obsessed with my accessories. Some days they were all I had to keep me sane. “The guys aren’t going to give you a hard time. For one thing, Sean wouldn’t invite anyone who had a problem with his family. And for another, they’ve had time to realize that gay isn’t some sort of communicable disease.”
I laughed because Drew talked about bigots like it was a normal part of life. Maybe it was in his life, but not mine. Even when it was part of my everyday life, it had never been normal. It’d been pure hell. I reached for my door handle, reminding myself that I had to trust Drew. After all, it wouldn’t make much sense for him to be here if there were a bunch of narrow-minded pricks around.
I followed Drew through the garage, into Sean’s house. It was more modest than I’d expect for a professional athlete. But, I was quickly learning that even though my best friend was one of them, I had no clue about what athletes really lived like. So far, it seemed their biggest extravagance was in their transportation.
“Hey, you made it!” I turned to see who’d noticed us and was met by an absolutely beautiful man. He gave me a quick once-over but didn’t say anything else. He would have looked intimidating, with his bulging muscles and the tattoo on his right arm, if not for the baby in his arms. No one could be scary while holding a smiling, happy kid.
“We did,” Drew responded. “Mason Atley, this is my friend, Cam Morgan. Cam, this is Mason and the little guy is his son, Asher.” The baby looked nothing like Mason, but I wasn’t about to say that. He had brilliant blue eyes and a head of fine white blond hair, compared to Mason’s own dark complexion and hair to match.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.
I nearly choked when Mason barely gave me a nod and turned to Drew.
“Your friend? Is that what you’re going with?” he challenged. “Because I’ve got to tell ya, Drew, even the dumbest guys out there won’t take one look at him and assume there’s a straight bone in his body.”
I briefly wondered if I could turn and run without Drew chasing after me. It was a huge mistake for me to expect to fit in here. Mason reached for my hand, drawing my attention back to him.
“Shit, kid, I didn’t mean it like that. All I meant is that it’s obvious you’re out and proud and don’t give a shit who knows it,” he apologized quickly.
He was right. I’d been unapologetic about my sexuality since the moment I came out, even when it did lead to me spending four miserable years in high school. Hell, I even had the T-shirt. I’d considered wearing it tonight, but figured that wasn’t the way to make a positive impression in these parts.
“Look, if you make Drew happy, that’s all that matters,” he promised me. “No one here gives a damn who anyone else is sleeping with, as long as it’s not flaunted in their faces. That sucks sometimes, but that’s the way it goes.”
“Oh, Drew and I aren’t… No…” I tried protesting, but my head was spinning already. “Drew and I have been friends for a long time, but that’s it.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Mason said, leaving something off the end of that statement. “Well, come on, everyone’s outside.”
“Oh, crap! Drew, I need your keys. I forgot the trifle in the car.” I held out my hand, grateful I had a legitimate reason to get out of there and regroup.
“What in the hell is a trifle?” Mason laughed.
“He swears it’s good,” Drew told him. “And it looked awfully tasty. It’s some sort of fancy cake and berries thing with pudding.”
“Hell, I don’t know where you found this one, but if that shit tastes half as good as it sounds, you’d better not hide him away.” Mason gave me a quick wink and I calmed down a bit. The thought crossed my mind that he may have been compensating for coming off as an ass earlier, but I didn’t get the impression that he was anything but sincere. “Go on, go get your trifle whatever and meet us out back. Most of the guys are out there, but a few are hanging in the living room.”
I squared my shoulders as I walked out the door. Despite the rocky start, it seemed things were going okay. Maybe Drew was right and coming to live with him would give me something I’ve never truly felt in my life: a home.
* * *
Jason
As usual,I was running late. There was no good reason for it, other than my own laziness. It felt good to kick back on my own couch for a few hours clearing out the DVR. Shows had been piling up since the beginning of spring, so much so that I’d be lucky to catch up on everything before the start of spring training next year.
Still, I felt like a tool when I realized it was already after five. I’d promised Sean I’d pick up the black forest cake Mason wanted for his birthday. It was such a prissy thing in some ways, but I envied Sean for having found someone worth settling down with.
“Dammit,” I groaned when I clobbered the back of my head on the door jamb of my car. It was my own fault, because I’d been distracted by the lithe blond stranger walking out of Sean’s garage. He definitely stuck out in our crowd, but in a good way.
I looked down at my wrinkled, baggy shorts and faded Flash Gordon T-shirt and felt underdressed, even though no one at the party gave a damn about that shit. We were the single guys, the bachelors. We often joked that the benefit of not having a wife was no one bitched about what we wore as long as it was clean.
I set the bright pink bakery box on top of the car while I made sure I had my keys and locked up. The entire time, I watched the new guy walk across the street to Drew Jackson’s car and grab some sort of fancy glass dish out of the back seat. If that was Drew’s guy, he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch.
It wasn’t common knowledge that Drew was gay, but Sean had let it slip one night when I was complaining about being sick of being single. Even if I was looking for someone to set me up, it wasn’t going to be Sean Tucker, and it sure as fuck wasn’t going to be with a teammate.
It’d been a long time since I’d let anyone into my life, and there was only so much comfort to be offered by my own hand. I reached for the dog tags that were ever-present around my neck and closed my eyes. Not a day went by when I didn’t think about Adam.
It was getting harder now when one of my closest friends was practically married to the love of his life and they’d adopted a kid together. Until seven years ago, I’d dreamed about having that with Adam once our lives settled down.
“Hey,” I said when I caught up to him on the sidewalk. “Haven’t seen you at one of Sean’s parties before. I’m Jason.”
“Yeah, I just moved to town,” he responded, eyeing me warily. His voice matched his appearance perfectly; slightly effeminate with just enough timbre to remind me that he was all man.
He wasn’t the type of guy I’d ever noticed in the past, but as he stood there waiting for me to say something, my body practically begged me to reach out and touch him. The draw was strong enough I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them to myself.
“Well, it’s good to meet you,” I responded. He hadn’t offered his name and I could take a hint. Life was too short to try to get people to talk when they weren’t interested. "I'd better get this inside before Sean calls me again, wondering if I got lost.”
“Okay.” He stepped to the side and let me pass. That was a damn shame, because I was hoping to follow him into the house so I could get a better look at the back of him. I wanted to see how it compared to his gorgeous front.
There was no one in the kitchen when I set the cake on the counter, so I turned around to get another look at the mystery guy. Even if he didn’t want to be best friends, we were both going to be here for the night, and if he was with Drew, we’d see one another again tomorrow. It didn’t seem out of line to at least want to know something about him.
“That looks amazing,” I told him, pointing to the bowl in his hands. I shuffled some of the food that was already laid out so there was room at the end of the counter for his dessert. “Did you make that?”
His cheeks turned almost as red as the berries resting on a pillow of whipped cream. My under-sexed mind immediately wondered what else would make him flush that way.
“Uh, yeah,” he said a bit sheepishly. “I just graduated from culinary school, but I haven’t had the chance to make anything fancier than grilled chicken or pork chops for a while now.”
That sounded heavenly to me. I could barely scramble myself eggs in the morning without screwing them up, which was why I lived off take-out and diner food when we were home. A few of the places near my condo started placing my order as soon as my number showed up on their caller ID. “Well, whatever it is, I can’t wait to taste it.”
“Um, thanks.”
Being a man of few words was one thing, but this guy took it to a whole new level. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to simply walk away the way I normally would.
“So, you came with Drew?” I pressed, wondering what it’d take to get him to open up to me.
“Yeah, he’s letting me crash with him for a while.” He took the plastic wrap off the top of the dish and picked at the top, making sure every berry was placed just right. I’d seen desserts like this before, but instead of the typical arrangement on top, he’d taken the time to cut and arrange the berries to look like the stitches on a baseball. Very clever, even if none of these guys would appreciate the effort.
“He’s staying at Eric Sapp’s place, right?” I grabbed two beers out of the fridge and offered one to the still unnamed man. I leaned back against the counter, hoping he might offer that basic bit of information if we sat there long enough.
“Yeah, I guess. That’s the guy who used to play for Milwaukee but he’s out in Seattle now, right?” He mirrored my position on the opposite side of the narrow kitchen. “I haven’t met him yet, but Drew said he should be here later tonight. I guess you guys are all off for a few days or something?”
Anyone who understood baseball knew that most of us had a few days off every July, while the rest of the players went to the All-Star game. When I was a kid playing little league, I dreamed about seeing my name on the roster, but as an adult, I prayed I wouldn’t because I needed to recharge before taking on the second half of the season.
“Yeah, he should be landing in about an hour, then he’ll catch a ride up here. Does that mean you’re going to be around for Eric’s party tomorrow?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, I guess Drew didn’t tell you that Sapp always hosts a party for the game? It won’t be as big as this, mostly just some of us hanging out and relaxing.”
“Oh, um, I guess I will,” he said uncertainly. “Drew just got home last night, so we haven’t really had much time to catch up.”
Someone hollered for me to get my ass into the living room. I didn’t want to leave; I wanted to keep talking to the gorgeous blond and see if I could get him to open up a bit more. “Well, that’s my cue,” I said, the words sounding lame to my own ears. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
I felt him watching me as I took my time leaving. “Hey, thanks Jason,” he called out behind me. I turned to see him worrying his bottom lip.
“For what?” I asked, confused.
“For not being a dick,” he said bluntly. “I was worried about coming tonight because I tend to stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Anytime, kid.” He flinched at being called a kid. Good. Maybe if he didn’t care for that, he’d give me something better to call him. And it seemed a fitting nickname, since he’d mentioned just graduating and looked like he was barely legal.
“Cam,” he provided with a sly smile.
“Cam, it’s nice to meet you.” I knocked twice on the edge of the door frame before turning the corner into the living room.
Triple Play #3
1
Drew
Two words:Bill Buckner. Four years before I was born, Mookie Wilson hit a ball up the first base line right between Buckner’s legs, causing the Red Sox to lose the World Series. Today, people still know his name, all because of that one play. As I stood beneath the spray of water following game five of the Divisional Championship, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d sealed a similar fate for myself in the bottom of the ninth.
“You’re going to turn into a prune if you stay in there any longer,” Jason hollered from outside the shower.
While that wasn’t my intention, it seemed like a better outcome than turning off the water and having to face my teammates. I’d let them down today. My screw up ended the season for everyone. I wasn’t ready to deal with the looks of disappointment on their faces just yet.
“I know you can hear me, Jackson. Now, quit jerking around and get dressed. There’s a bar with entirely too much alcohol on-hand, and it’s up to us to help them fix that problem.” He was pushy as hell, and since my best friend was his boyfriend, he saw it as his duty to look after me when I was in the dumps.
I didn’t want to drink. What I wanted to do was go home and sit in the dark for a few days. Before, I would have called Cam to have him give me a pep talk, but even that wasn’t possible. He was down in Chicago, hopefully getting ready to get his big break on a reality TV cooking show. I was proud of him, but dammit, he was who I wanted right now.
“Thanks Jason, but I think I’m going to skip tonight,” I informed him as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. “Not really in the mood to party.”
Proving he had zero respect for personal space, Jason stepped into the shower and turned off the water. My head whipped to the side as I looked around to see if anyone noticed. I snagged my towel off the hook and wrapped it around my waist as I tried to sneak past Jason. He made that impossible as he clamped his hands around my biceps.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted, looking me square in the eyes and shaking me with each word. The words were nice to hear, even if they were a lie.
I jerked away from him, not wanting to rehash the single biggest mistake I’d made in the nearly twenty years I’d been playing baseball. Even when I played on our community tee ball league, I always worked hard to make sure I played by the rules. Today, I’d gotten too wrapped up in the fact that we were one run away from heading to the League Championship series. All I could think about was getting on base, and I lost sight of the ball and the baseman.
“Fucking fairies.” Mark Butler sneered as he shoulder checked me on the way to his locker. I bit my tongue because the man had every right to be pissed. Still, I wished Stu had been in the locker room to hear him spouting his homophobic bullshit. “...get the fuck out of here so I don’t have to worry about some fudge packer checking out my shit...”
I grabbed a fistful of Jason’s wet T-shirt to keep him from going after Butler. The last thing we needed was someone claiming Jason started the brawl that would inevitably happen if he went after the asshole. The two of them had barely tolerated one another in the time since I’d been traded to Milwaukee, and that relationship had morphed into loathing after Mark started talking shit about Cam.
I was glad my best friend had someone like Jason to take care of him, but I did worry Jason would snap if something didn’t give. Maybe everyone heading home for the winter was the best thing that could happen. Not being around one another every day would give tempers a chance to cool.
“Jason, you need to learn to ignore him,” I advised, pushing him down onto the bench. “Assholes like Mark will always be out there, but it’s up to you to choose how you react to it. If you ignore him, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”
“Look, I know you mean well, but he’s an ignorant fucker, and I should have knocked him on his ass when I had the chance.” Jason was fuming mad. He curled his fingers around the edge of the bench so tightly I was sure he’d leave fingernail marks in the wood.
I slammed my locker closed. “No, you shouldn’t have. You might have felt better in that moment, but I don’t believe for a minute you wouldn’t have been upset with yourself after the fact. Plus, knowing Cam the way I do, that could have been a deal breaker for him. He doesn’t deal well with people beating the crap out of one another.”
My little plan to remind Jason how much he had to lose if he let his anger get the best of him backfired. When I looked over at him as I buttoned my shirt, he was clutching at his chest. I’d seen him do it many times before, but this time, something was different. The thin ball chain he always wore was missing.
“Have you heard from him yet?” I asked, sitting down next to him. If anyone had told me a few months ago that Jason would become one of my best friends and that he’d be in love with the man I’d dreamed about for much of my life, I’d have told them they were insane. However, here we were, both worried about how things were going for Cam in Chicago.
Jason shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m sure he’ll call when he can. Now, finish getting dressed. You’re going to drink so much tonight that you’ll eventually believe me when I tell you no one’s pissed off at you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the state for that,” I bemoaned. “Face it, I fucked up out there tonight. If I’d been paying attention, I wouldn’t have run into him.”
“And if fucking Butler hadn’t gotten greedy, he’d have still been safe at first,” Jason countered. “First and second were empty. The only reason he tried to head home was because he’s a self-centered son of a bitch who’s trying to prove himself. He wanted to be the hero of the game and he failed.”
“And he would have been the hero if I hadn’t run into Montoya,” I argued.
“He’s the one who stepped in your path,” Jason responded. I got the feeling we could go on like that all night, so I stood and started gathering the shit I wanted to take home with me. “I’m going to call Eric and tell him to meet us at the bar. If you’re not there, I will send someone after you.”
As much as I claimed I wanted to be alone, going home didn’t seem as appealing if Eric wasn’t going to be there. And I knew he’d be in his car driving to the bar before he and Jason even got off the phone. He’d been miserable since the end of the regular season, bored because most of his circle of friends played for the Mavericks. That meant he sat at home watching every game because he didn’t want to deal with people asking him what it was like to watch the game, knowing he used to wear the blue and gray jersey.
“Fine, I’ll be there,” I promised him. Jason gave me a disbelieving glare. “I will! I’m just going to pack up a few more things, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Okay, but remember what I said. I’ll have no problem sending Eric and Mason over to the house if you try to ditch us,” Jason warned me as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
I dawdled as long as possible after he left, hoping that the autograph hounds would give up before I walked outside. It wouldn’t be my signature or pictures they’d want from me, it would be a piece of my ass since I’d let them down as well.
The lights in the parking lot turned off when I was only about halfway to my car. I quickened my pace, uneasy in the pitch black night. I knew it was nothing more than my overactive imagination getting away from me, but that didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder and fumbling in my pocket for my keys.
It was nearly midnight, which wasn’t late by some standards, but it was considered obscenely late in the Jackson household. Still, I knew my dad would be sitting in the worn out recliner he refused to let me replace for him, waiting for my call.
We talked after almost every game. He was never overly harsh on me, but he was the one man I knew I could trust to tell me exactly where I screwed up.
I didn’t need that tonight. What I needed was to hear a friendly voice. Maybe once we were done with meetings and released for the winter, I’d head to the opposite corner of the state to the small farm my family had run for generations.
“I was wondering if you’d call tonight.” Dad answered before the phone even rang on my end of the line. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, waiting for him to lay into me about my screw up. He’d been my coach from the time he signed me up for tee ball until I made the varsity baseball team as a freshman in high school. Even though he wasn’t in charge of the teams I played on after that, he still took his job as a coach very seriously. “You played a hell of a game out there tonight.”
That statement surprised me. I figured he’d jump right into telling me how irresponsible it was of me to run into Montoya. The old man seemed to be getting soft in his old age. If he wasn’t berating me for that play, maybe Jason was right and I was being too hard on myself.
“Thanks Dad. You might be the only person who thinks that. If it wasn’t for me, we’d be heading to the league championships.” I slumped lower in my seat and scrubbed a hand over my face. I still couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. “I’ll probably have to hide out all winter, hoping the fans will forget about how I fucked up by the time we leave for spring training—”
“Would you quit being so melodramatic?” Dad interrupted. “Yes, you screwed up tonight. You’re a smart player. You know better than to let someone like him get away with stepping in front of you the way he did. That being said, Butler had no place trying to get home on that play. He could have easily stood there biding his time and he still would have been the first man home.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I responded sarcastically.
I’d have never been so bold if Dad had been standing in front of me, but with the safety of miles between us, I didn’t hold back. Dad had zero tolerance for mouthiness or disrespect, and it didn’t matter to him that I was twenty-five and a professional athlete, he wouldn’t hesitate to knock me on my ass. I couldn’t ask for better parents than the ones I had, but they were stern for a reason.
“Don’t get smart with me,” he warned. “If it’ll make you feel better, we can sit down and watch every play of the game when you come home. You are still coming home for a while, right?”
Of course I was. No matter how many zeroes in my bank account or how many reporters wanted to talk to me, it wouldn’t change the fact that Dad expected me to come home and help him get the farm ready for winter. I’d never admit it to them, but I loved my parents for treating me as if I was nothing more than the only son they expected to do his part for the family. It made me feel normal.
My sisters’ husbands helped out when they could, but only because they volunteered to help. It wasn’t expected of them.
“Yeah, Dad, I’m hoping to get there early next week,” I told him. “I’m sure the rest of this week will be filled with meetings and all that fun stuff, but as soon as we’re released for the winter, I’ll be there.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll let your mother know to get your room ready.” There was a lingering silence across the line, and I knew what Dad was trying to keep from asking. Everyone in my family knew I was gay, but I was pretty sure Dad struggled with the reality that I might someday bring a guy home to meet them.
For a long time, I’d allowed myself to think about how easy it would be if that someone was Cam. They knew him. They’d never batted an eye when he’d shown up at the front door late at night after having a fight with his uncle. My mom was the one who made sure he had school supplies at the beginning of every school year and that he wouldn’t be going to school in pants that were two inches too short and falling apart. It would have taken a miracle for that to ever become reality, but since he was head over heels in love with Jason, I knew that ship had sailed.
“Will you be alone?”
“Yes,” I assured him. “As wonderful as it would be to bring home someone for you and Mom to interrogate, I’m afraid my schedule doesn’t really allow much time for having a personal life.”
“Boy, you keep that up and I’ll whip the sass out of you when you get here.” The teasing lilt in his voice told me he wasn’t being serious. “Well, it’s getting late. You be safe and I’ll see you next week.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“You too.” He hung up without another word and I sat there staring at the display of my phone until it went dark. The conversation hadn’t gone as expected, but it was exactly what I needed.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I started thinking about whether or not I’d go insane if I went home for the entire winter. If Cam made it onto the show, he’d be gone for at least a month, maybe longer, while they were filming. If he did well, and I had faith he would, he’d be busy with public appearances and whatever other shit went along with being a reality TV star.
Mason and Sean had talked about spending the winter in Indiana with Mason’s family, but that was still up in the air. Jason would likely be wherever Cam was. That pretty much just left Eric, and I was sure he’d be glad to not have me in his space.
By the time I pulled into a parking spot down the street from Bar 42, I’d made up my mind that I was going to stay home until my parents got tired of me and begged me to get out of their space. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as I walked up the dark sidewalk. My mind was on what equipment I wanted to put in the barn, the routes I could run through the countryside near my parents’ farm, and how to convince my mom that not every meal needed to be drowned in fresh butter.
Everything that seemed important became meaningless as I felt a hand clamp over my mouth. I clawed at the thick fingers, kicked at the shins of the man dragging me into the alley beside the bar. I tried to scream, but I knew no one heard me. “Try anything, you fucking fairy, and I’ll shove your bat so far up your ass it’ll choke you.”
I’d heard that voice somewhere, but I was more concerned with trying to get out of there alive than figuring out who belonged to the hand covering my mouth while the other squeezed tighter on my neck. I clawed at the larger man’s hand so I could draw in a breath.
He didn’t budge and my reaction seemed to fuel his anger. My feet were lifted off the ground and I kicked him in the shins again, this time causing him to howl in pain as my heel made contact with bone.
No matter how I fought, he didn’t let go. The world faded as I struggled to breathe. Skin ripped open as my head slammed into the pavement. I could hear bones cracking as a heavy work boot repeatedly made contact with my chest.
“You’re a fucking disgrace,” my attacker sneered. “The world will be a better place once there’s one less fag in it.” As the blows continued, I wished I’d passed out when he was choking me, just so I wouldn’t have to feel the spikes of pain every time he made contact.
I tried to scream, but was stopped by the tread of the boot stomping on the side of my face. Mercifully, my world went black after that.
Saturday Series Spotlight
Quinn Ward writes small-town gay romance that blends cozy charm, found family, and just enough swoon to make your heart race. A lifelong Midwesterner, Quinn brings their love of small-town quirks, quiet moments, and emotional second chances into every story. Outside of writing, you’ll usually find them with coffee in hand, spending time with their two kids (when they're in the same state), or enjoying the kind of low-key adventures that make small-town life feel like home. They believe everyone deserves a happily ever after — and they’ll happily keep writing them, one love story at a time.
EMAIL: quinn@quinnwardwrites.com
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