Homeruns: Wild Pitch Part 7

She gnawed at the corner of her lip. One mile went by, then two without her saying anything more. "Why do you think you can't have a family?"

"Well, first it was because I wanted to be home for my kids," I told her. It sounded silly since there were plenty of players who started families while they were playing, but I didn't want that for my own. I figured I'd play ball for a while, then move on and still have time to have it all. "Then, Teresa and I started having more problems, and I knew I didn't want to bring anyone into that chaos. And now...well, you're a smart girl, I'm sure I don't have to give you a basic biology lesson. I can't say for sure that this thing between Sean and me will last forever, but as long as we're together, it's not like anything we do is going to lead to the next generation of ball players."

"That's not true," she countered, eyes still on the road in front of her. "There are plenty of gay couples who have families. The question is whether or not you want that."

"Abi, we've been dating, or whatever, for about two minutes, I think it's premature to start planning that far into the future."

"Humor me. Let's say, hypothetically, that you and Sean are still together down the road. Is that something you'd want?"

"If we got to that point and both of us were on the same page, then sure." Traffic started to get heavier and I was given a reprieve from this little dream world Abi was trying to weave. That didn't mean I stopped thinking about what it'd be like to have a family with Sean.

Chapter 11.

Mason sent me a text message shortly after the game ended to let me know they were stuck in traffic. Apparently, he and Abi had stayed in Chicago later than they'd intended and he hadn't considered the post-game traffic jams. It irritated me at first to know that they weren't home, but I decided it wasn't worth the aggravation. Besides, after a shaky road stretch, it was impossible to be in a foul mood while sitting around the locker room. The guys played a h.e.l.l of a game tonight, and were in full celebration mode. Most of the single guys were going out for a while, but the rest of us wanted nothing more than to get home to our families.

I stopped in my tracks at that thought, because my mind seemed to have accepted that that's what Mason was to me. With or without the s.e.x, he was a part of me. And he'd be home soon, as long as my sister didn't kill him with her driving.

"Signal that stop next time," Jason scolded me as he ran into my back, shoving me forward so my shin connected with the bench in front of me.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"No worries," he a.s.sured me with a slap to my back. "I figured you'd be out of here the second you were able. What're you doing hanging around?"

This afternoon, I'd admitted to him that I'd driven down to pick up Mason as soon as we'd landed last night. He didn't seem terribly surprised, and even suggested that we get together before Mason headed back to Chicago for good.

"They got delayed driving up from Chicago," I told him. "I'm going to hang here a bit longer, and I'll probably still get home before they do."

As cool as Jason was with what he knew about me, I wasn't stupid enough to think everyone would be, so I was very careful about how I phrased my responses to him in case anyone overheard.

"Yeah, you probably will," he agreed. "Well, I'm going to get cleaned up and head out. I'll catch you tomorrow."

I checked my watch and decided it had been long enough that the traffic should be clearing up. On the way to my car, I stopped at the fence set up to keep fans from storming the players' entrance and signed a few autographs. As usual, the fans were a mix of kids, grown men, and women who hoped to receive an invite for a more private gathering. I paid attention to the former groups, while carefully avoiding the women. No matter how many times some of these so-called ladies were turned down, they still tried to follow every player out to the parking lot, hoping we'd give them a ride in more ways than one.

The house was still dark when I got home, so I made myself a sandwich and sat down to watch Sportsline to see what they had to say about Tulsa's performance tonight. It was a habit of mine, watching to see what the a.n.a.lysts were talking about a few days before facing a team. In this case, they were gushing over Marcus Jones, who was on fire this season. His batting average so far was .337, which put him in second place overall, solidly in first in his league. The man had no weakness, which sucked for me.

Plain and simple, we needed to sweep this series so we'd still be flying high when Tulsa came into town. They were a strong opponent and we were finding our feet later in the season than we'd like.

I heard the garage door open and turned off the television. Abi quickly disappeared into the bas.e.m.e.nt after giving me a peck on the cheek and telling me she'd need gas money tomorrow. I shook my head, wondering how our parents did it with five kids in the house. Then I remembered that they made us go out and get jobs, telling us that it'd make us stronger adults if we learned to support ourselves.

"How's PT?" I asked, noticing that Mason was favoring his right hand. It was swollen and his fingers looked discolored. That couldn't be good.

"Sucks," he admitted, which said a lot about how much pain he was in. I remembered one time about a month after he started playing when he'd refused to admit that he'd done more than twisted his ankle. He could barely walk and we all knew he was in pain, and yet he tried saying it was just tweaked. "I'm beat, can we go upstairs?"

"Actually, there's somewhere I want to take you." I couldn't explain why, but I needed to get out of the house. It had been a long time since I'd been this restless. Given the time of night, there was only one place I could think of that'd help me clear my head.

"Sean, I'm not sure I'm up for a night out," Mason protested, sinking into my side with his head resting on my shoulder. He rested his hand on my thigh, gliding his swollen fingers over the cotton of my pants. If we didn't get out of the house, I couldn't guarantee I'd keep my promise to let him set the pace. I was trying hard to take things slow with Mason, to give him time to make d.a.m.n sure this was what he wanted, but my d.i.c.k could only handle so much teasing.

"No, nothing like that," I told him. I pushed him upright and stood, reaching for his hand. "I want to show you something."

He grumbled as his head fell to the back cushion of the couch. "Do we have to?" he whined. "The only thing I want is to get you upstairs and naked so I can show you how much I missed you."

"Mace, you make it sound like we haven't seen each other in months." I grabbed his left hand and pulled him off the couch.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to make up for lost time," he huffed.

"We will," I whispered as I nibbled his neck. "But first, I want to go someplace quiet for a little bit."

As a child, I'd always taken for granted how lucky I was to live within biking distance of Lake Michigan. It wasn't an ocean, but it was large enough that I could sit in the sand and listen to the waves roll onto the sh.o.r.e. It was simple yet hypnotic. When I was there, I released whatever was upsetting me into the water and imagined it getting lost in the waves.

Mason relented, as I knew he would, and he followed me to my pickup. Although it wasn't a long drive, Mason fell asleep as I wove my way through a maze of surface streets to avoid the overnight construction closures that were choking off the city. I entered the code at the security gate leading into a private lakefront community and gently shook Mason's shoulder.

"Mason, wake up." He blinked a few times as I pulled into the driveway.

"Where in the h.e.l.l are we?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Eric's house. When he got traded, he asked me to keep an eye on it until he decides whether or not he's going to sell it," I told him. Mason stiffened and pressed his body against the door of the truck as soon as I mentioned Eric's name. No matter how many times I told him that Eric wasn't anything more than a friend with benefits, a convenient and safe way to bust a nut, it bothered Mason. "Hey, you have to get over this hang up. Eric has been my friend for a long time, the same as you, and that's not going to change."

"I know, but-"

I reached out for Mason and pulled him close to me. "No buts," I said firmly. "I'll admit that I still don't fully understand what's going on between you and me, but I will guarantee you it's nothing I ever would have considered with him."

"So why are we here?" he asked.

"We have a lot to talk about, and I didn't see that happening at home," I admitted. "When we're alone together, it's too easy for me to convince myself that I don't need to understand what's going on or what you want, but it is."

I invited Mason inside while I grabbed some beer and a blanket out of the house, but he said he preferred to wait outside. When I came back outside, he'd wandered to the back of the property and was staring at the darkness of the lake. "Now do you see why I like coming out here? It has nothing to do with who owns the property; it's all about the view."

"Well, it's not much to look at right now," he responded sarcastically.

"No, but it's still one of the most peaceful places in the area," I said, leading him down the wooden staircase to the private beach. "If you want, we'll come back sometime during the day and then you can see why I love it the way I do."

"We'll see." It hadn't been my intention to upset him or throw Eric in his face, but I could tell he was annoyed with me. I spread out the blanket and sat, pulling Mason down with me. Neither of us said anything for a while as we listened to the water rolling onto the sand. The gentle breeze cut through the humidity of earlier in the day, giving the air a slight chill.

I scooted closer to Mason and started ma.s.saging the back of his neck. He was a ball of stress and I needed to know none of that was because of me. "Hey, what's going on up there?" I asked, kissing the side of his head.

"Have you ever opened your eyes in the morning and wondered what happened to the life you thought you'd have?" he asked as I opened a bottle of beer and handed it to him.

I honestly hadn't. I knew from a young age that playing ball was the only thing I wanted to do. As soon as I admitted to myself that I was gay, it never crossed my mind to come out, because I thought it'd somehow make me seem like less of a man in the eyes of the scouts. That p.i.s.sed me off, but you'd have to be blind and deaf not to understand that locker rooms weren't the most accepting places in the world, so I kept quiet. I never stooped to the point of dating women as a cover, but there were times I'd flirt just to keep up appearances and I hated every minute of it. While there were aspects of my life I didn't necessarily love, I was willing to make concessions to make my dreams possible. At least I had been, but now that was changing.

"I think it's normal to wonder what your life could have been like if you'd made different choices, but why do you feel that way?" I asked, trying to avoid saying anything to further upset him.

"Before this year, I thought I had everything I wanted. No, my marriage wasn't great, but I kept telling myself that it'd eventually get better," he admitted. "I did what needed to be done, even though I wasn't happy."

"Okay, but you took steps to change that," I reminded him. "I guess I'm a bit confused. How is your life so far off-track in your mind?"

This was so not the conversation I'd wanted to have, but I told myself this was what couples did. They talked about whatever was bothering them and worked together to find solutions. And I was the one who mentioned the C word, so I had to shut up and listen.

I slid my hand down to Mason's lower back, slowly lifting the fabric so I could press my palm against his hot flesh. I needed that connection to him because I feared this was the moment when he was going to tell me that I was the b.u.mp in his path and he couldn't be with me.

"I can still remember the first time I picked up a ball. My dad has never been the athletic type, but we found one in the park," he told me. "There was no one around, so I figured some kid forgot it when he went home. Anyway, I begged my dad to play catch with me. He wasn't going to at first, but he did.

"I had to practice for a while before I was any good, but Dad spent hours working with me after he saw how well I threw the ball. I knew he'd rather be taking me on nature hikes or camping trips, but he worked with me every single night in our backyard until I was good enough to join the rec league."

As Mason shared this bit of his childhood with me, he leaned into my side and wrapped his arms around my middle. "Sounds like a good time, so why are you upset?"

I'd have given anything to have a father willing to play catch with me. My dad was okay with me wanting to join little league, as long as it didn't interfere with my schoolwork. When I got a baseball scholarship, he reminded me that college was still for academics, not sports. When I dropped out after my junior year, I thought his head was going to explode even though I did so with a nice signing bonus and a baseball contract. Our already strained relationship would likely never heal from the damage caused by my going against his wishes.

"I always wanted to be able to do the same with my kid," he admitted. "If there's one thing I ever wanted to do more than play ball, it was be a family man. Now, I'm pretty sure Chicago won't renew my contract after this year because my stats are in the gutter and it doesn't look like the family thing is going to work out for me, either. h.e.l.l, if the rumor mill is accurate, I may not even make it to the end of the year."

"Mace, we all have ups and downs," I told him, ignoring the bit about the rumors. I'd heard them as well, but I couldn't think about him being shipped off somewhere else. With how hard I took Eric's departure, there was no doubt in my mind it'd kill me to say goodbye to Mason when we were starting to build something good. "So you're having a rough year, it happens. That doesn't mean your career is over. And how many guys do you know who get divorced and move on to find someone else? You'll do the same."

Just saying the words twisted like a knife in my heart. I didn't want him to find the next Mrs. Atley, even if there was a woman out there who'd be the perfect mother to his future children. I wanted to be enough for him.

"That's the problem," he growled, a bit louder and more animated. "Up until a week ago, I would have agreed with you. Now, I can't imagine playing for another team and I have to accept that I'm never going to have what I always thought I wanted."

"Why in the h.e.l.l not?" I asked.

"Because now, when I close my eyes, you're the one I think about," he admitted. "You're the one I want to be with and that means letting go of what I thought I wanted."

"Mace, you can't give up your own dreams for anyone, not even me." I wouldn't let him. As much as it'd kill me, if it came down to it, I'd walk away rather than let him spend the rest of his life resenting me for what he didn't have.

Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say because Mason lurched off the ground and stood over me, breathing heavily as he glared down at me. "But what if this is all part of growing up? What if dreams naturally change as we learn and grow? h.e.l.l, when I was five, I thought I'd be an astronaut, but that didn't happen. Maybe baseball is something I did for a while, but it's time to follow other dreams. More important dreams."

"Mason, we're not just talking about baseball here, this is your whole life," I argued, my heart breaking a little more with every word.

Mason stormed down the beach and I ran after him. Whether or not I got what I wanted at the end of tonight, I needed him to talk to me instead of running away when I got too close to his fears. "Mace, talk to me."

Mason spun around so fast that I nearly ran into him. He twisted the fabric of my shirt in his hands, holding me inches from his body. "You don't f.u.c.king get it, do you?"

His jaw clenched tight as the waves picked up, washing over the tops of our feet. "Try me," I dared him. "Make me understand."

Mason pulled my body closer to his, sealing his mouth over mine. The taste of yeast and hops from the beer mixed with something uniquely Mason on my lips, but I was too stunned to reciprocate. This kiss was different from every one before it. It was filled with heartache and desperation. It could have been a promise of forever or a mournful goodbye.

"It's you, Sean," he said quietly, his lips still so close to mine that I felt the heat of every word. "You're the part of my life that was missing and I don't know if I want the rest of that s.h.i.t if it means not having you with me."

"Mace, you can't say that. This is all new and different for you, and you might change your mind once the thrill wears off." I'd never considered myself an openly emotional person, but I wanted to cry as I admitted my own biggest fear to him.

"You know what, Sean? f.u.c.k you!" Mason hissed as he turned to jog up the stairs to the backyard. "Admitting that I have feelings for you was harder for me than admitting my marriage was a sham. What does that tell you?"

Yet again, I took off after him. By the time I reached the top step, Mason was slumped in one of the wrought iron chairs on the patio tangling his fingers through his hair. I pulled a chair next to his and begged him to look at me. He shook his head and I reached for his hand.

"Mace, I'm sorry," I apologized. I still doubted that he knew what he was saying, but it wasn't my place to minimize what he said. "But you have to understand that this isn't easy for me. You've blindsided me a couple of times and I'm still trying to process everything."

Unconsciously, I lifted my fingers to my mouth; that kiss replaying in my mind. That moment was more than a physical act; it was as though he was pleading with me to understand how he felt about me. He was trying to convince me to stop pushing him away because of my own fears. And I responded by telling him that this was all some pa.s.sing phase.

"Babe, I'm sorry if I upset you, but you have to see this from my perspective. The first day you walked into our apartment, all c.o.c.ky because you knew you were the s.h.i.t both on and off the field, I had to find a reason to get away from you as quickly as I could because I was so turned on," I admitted to him. "There were times when I thought I caught you looking at me, but after I told you I was gay, you made it abundantly clear that you weren't."

"G.o.d, I was such a d.i.c.k to you when we first met, telling you that I didn't want to hear about your hook ups. What I didn't tell you was that I was jealous. I hated hearing about you with other men, because I wanted it to be me. I'd been trying to tell myself I'd get over the crush I had on you, but to do that, I had to push you away. And then I figured telling you I was bi and liked you would be a d.i.c.k move."

Thunder rolled in the distance and I looked up just in time to see brilliant streaks of lightning illuminate the sky. Soon, we would need to either go inside or make our way back to my place. I opted for the safer option. "Come on, we can keep talking on the way home, but I think it's time to get back."

Sean was quiet the entire drive back to his house. When we parked and I watched him walk inside without waiting for me, I knew I'd said too much. It would have been different if we weren't involved, but we were, and I knew there were things I'd thought about having in my life that he might not want.

My footsteps echoed through the house as I followed him up the stairs to his bedroom. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid into bed. Since he hadn't asked me to leave when he glanced up at me, I toed off my shoes and neatly folded each article of clothing as I got ready for bed.

I reached out for him, needing to feel the warmth of his body next to mine as I drifted off to sleep. His body was rigid with tension. "I'm sorry," I whispered in his ear before pressing my lips to his shoulder. "There's a reason I keep that s.h.i.t bottled up inside."

He laced his fingers with mine. "It's fine, Mace," he a.s.sured me. "I want you to be able to talk to me. It's just a lot to take in at one time."

"I get it. I also know that you weren't expecting all that tonight," I responded. "Honestly, I'd have much rather come up here and not talked at all."

"Not talking sounds like a great plan," Sean agreed. He rolled over so our faces were barely an inch apart. I shivered as Sean ran his hand up my chest, over my shoulder and carded his fingers in my hair. He leaned in so our foreheads were pressed together. "In fact, I think we should not talk for the rest of the night."

My d.i.c.k twitched in agreement as Sean devoured my mouth. Our tongues tangled and the room filled with moans of antic.i.p.ation as I ground my hips against his. Never in my life had I experienced the raw need I felt when we came together. I no longer wondered what it would be like to be with Sean, no longer simply wanted what he could give me. I needed him. I felt as though my life would be missing something without him.

Tonight, I wanted to take my time with Sean, to touch every inch of his skin. With my c.o.c.k already dripping precome, practically screaming at me in protest, I backed away from Sean's body. I pushed him onto his back, kneeling beside him. My fingers barely grazed his skin as I teased my way from his neck down to his nipples. Sean's back arched as I circled the dark pink flesh, refusing to give him the pressure I knew he craved.

The journey continued in the valley between his pecs, down to the smattering of hair leading beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs. As I tugged Sean's underwear down his hips, I glanced up to see him staring at me. Not moving, just savoring the feeling of me exploring his body.

I chuckled as I took just the tip of his d.i.c.k into my mouth, tracing my tongue through his slit and around the crown. His slightly bitter, salty essence fueled me to take him deeper, suck harder, until I felt him at the back of my throat. "Mace, not going to last," he warned me.

I tried to pull off to give him a chance to recover a bit, but he threaded his fingers through my hair, holding me in place as his hips bucked off the bed. He f.u.c.ked my mouth, claiming me. Within a minute, the first blast of thick, hot c.u.m spurted into my mouth.

I continued sucking until Sean's body relaxed in a sated heap on the bed. I shifted so I could lay next to him, curling into his side. We were both physically and emotionally exhausted, and I tamped down the disappointment when he draped his arm over my body and gave me a chaste kiss on the side of my head before he closed his eyes.

Within minutes, his breathing steadied, leaving me nothing to do but try to match my breaths to his. It was the first of many restless nights.

Chapter 12.

Nothing was going according to plan. The silver lining to getting hurt was that it meant I'd be able to sneak in some time with Sean instead of traveling with the team. Unfortunately, after I spilled my guts about how adrift I felt, he pulled away from me. At first, I thought it was simply the end of the honeymoon phase and we were settling into our own routines, but with every day I grew less certain that we were anything more than a quick fling. After almost a week of cold distance, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"Mace, it's not you, I just have a lot on my mind right now," Sean groaned this morning when I tried asking if he was upset with me. "The break is coming up and I have to keep my head in the game. I can't afford to be distracted right now."