Double Play (The San Jose Coyotes #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

JACKSON

My phone vibrates on the charger beside my bed, but I’m too tired to move. My alarm already? It feels like I just went to sleep—what with how out of it I am. And shit, why is it a million degrees in here? I know I turned the fan on before passing out last night.

Summer is going to be brutal.

My phone starts ringing.

I hear it, but my body won’t move. A flicker of unease crawls up my spine. The ringing stops, and then a text comes through. I try to lift my wrist to check my watch, but my arm won’t move. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’m low.

I must’ve turned my glucose alarm off last night. Real smart, Jackson. A key turns in the apartment door, echoing in the quiet, and I groan. Here comes my six-foot-two knight in shining armor, just to keep me alive.

Andres.

The refrigerator opens and slams shut. A cabinet door follows. Muffled footsteps cross the room, and the mattress dips beside me.

“What am I gonna do with you, Jack?” Andres mutters, more to himself than to me. He probably thinks I’m too out of it to understand. I’m low, but not that low. He rubs my back between my shoulder blades, trying to rouse me.

His hand on my bare skin makes heat crawl over me. “Hmmm,” I grumble.

“Jack.” His voice sounds a little distorted. “Come on, drink this. Your BG is 40. You forgot to suspend your insulin after we got home from the bar.”

Shit. He’s right.

I’ve never been more thankful to share my blood sugar readings with someone.

I grumble again. Okay—maybe I’m lower than I thought. No wonder it’s hard to move.

“Goddammit,” Andres grips my shoulder and flips me onto my back, shoving the straw between my lips. “Drink, Jackson.”

I take a long pull. Sweet apple juice hits my tongue, and my body kicks into survival mode, sucking up the liquid on autopilot. Once all I get is air coming through the straw, I stop.

“Good boy.” He sets the glass down and opens my nightstand drawer, grabbing my kit. The words land somewhere they shouldn’t.

The zipper makes a loud noise, and I start feeling a little better. Words are easier to focus on, but I also feel a little nauseous. Sometimes the juice does that when I drink it too fast or my body just isn’t ready for the sugar. The pop of the test strips container makes my lip twitch a little.

He’s going to double-check to see if my monitor’s accurate. It’s not perfect and can be off, showing that I’m actually higher than what I am. Andres reaches for my hand, isolates a finger, cleans it, and then pokes me. Giving it a firm squeeze, he presses it to the test strip until the meter beeps.

“I swear, you’re not allowed to order your own drinks anymore.”

Like he gets a say.

The meter beeps three times, and he curses under his breath in Spanish. “Mierda. Your BG is 36 on the meter, Jackson.”

“Give—give it,” I whisper, but can’t finish the sentence.

“I know, give it fifteen minutes. But eight ounces of juice isn’t going to bring you up that much.” He gets up and heads back to the kitchen.

He cares.

Andres takes the time to make sure he is up-to-date and current with where I’m at with my type 1 diabetes. I’m pretty sure he knows me better than I do, and I’ve been a type one since I was thirteen years old.

I open my eyes. My vision’s only slightly blurry—progress. The problem is I feel like I’m gonna be sick. “Dre,” I moan… not in the hot way. More in the I’m-about-to-barf kind of way.

In a split second, he’s back at my side with the trash can, watching me puke. “You’re lucky we don’t have a game today. I’m serious, no more drinking.”

“You’re no fun.” I retch again.

“And this is? I get wanting to have fun and let loose, but it’s not worth it. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Jack. You’re…” He lets out a heavy sigh before pressing a kiss to my head. “Mi sol.”

His sunshine.

“Okay,” I’ll do whatever he says. Even though we’re best friends and the friends-with-benefits thing is amazing, I know what I feel for him is more than just wanting to fuck him. Or him fucking me, which is how it is most of the time.

Andres looks me over, concern still in his eyes, then glances toward the kitchen where I’m assuming he left the glass of juice.

“I’m gonna have to give you a mini dose of the glucagon, just so I can get you to eat something that will sit better in your stomach.

Okay?” He pushes my damp hair from my face.

“God, you’re so pale that it scares me.”

“It’s just because I’m low.” I have enough strength to throw my comforter off and tug my boxer briefs down, exposing my upper thigh. “Poke me, baby.”

His jaw ticks before he rolls his eyes, reaching for the red case on the nightstand.

“You’re very lucky that I care about your stupid ass, Jackson.

” He pulls everything out, mixes the liquid with the powder in the vial, and draws up a small amount in a smaller syringe.

Holding it between his lips, he rips open an alcohol swab and wipes a spot on my upper thigh. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

No, he wouldn’t.

Andres isn’t a people person. He’s quiet, more of a homebody, but he goes out because of me. He would be more than happy to spend his off-season holed up in his apartment with a book series or rewatching his comfort shows and movies.

But then there is me.

His sunshine, forcing him to live life.

“So what’s the plan for today?” I wince as he depresses the plunger and the medicine burns underneath my skin. His other hand settles on my hip, holding me steady.

“Making sure your ass stays alive in this heat, apparently. It’s supposed to be over a hundred today, so I’m thinking it’s going to be an indoor day for you, seeing as your blood sugar is already out of whack.”

I’m already feeling better, but my stomach lets out a low growl, and Andres chuckles.

“How about some eggs, toast with peanut butter, and whatever fruit I can scrounge up, hmm?” He smacks my thigh and moves all the supplies away from me and back to the nightstand. I grab his shirt hem before he can get up, pulling him down until his forehead presses against my lips.

“Thank you.” I kiss his head a few times before pulling back. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Andres mutters under his breath. “No puedo vivir sin ti, tonto. Now get your ass up and take a shower. I’ll get breakfast ready.”

I can’t live without him either, and not just because he keeps me alive when I can’t do it for myself.

I’m in love with my best friend. And I have no idea what to do with that.

Like head over heels, I’d forgo hooking up with women forever if he told me he felt the same way. The kind of love where I get butterflies when he walks into a room and smiles at me.

Could he love me back? More than what we already have?

I get up, head to the bathroom, and reach in to turn the shower on. I pull my underwear off and toss them in the hamper. I look into the mirror and stare at myself.

Dre wasn’t joking when he said I was pale. I need some more sunlight, and it would probably help if I didn’t let my blood sugar drop to dangerous levels. Might be a good start. I brush my teeth quickly and then continue to stare at my reflection.

“Jackson,” Andres calls, and then appears in the doorway of the bathroom, where I’m still standing there, completely naked. His eyes roam my body, smirking as they land on my ass.

“Enjoying the view?” I shift, turning to face him.

“Stop giving me attitude and get in the shower. Your breakfast is ready.” He gives me a scolding look.

“Maybe you should shower with me? You know, to make sure I don’t pass out.” I raise my eyebrow, shrugging my shoulders in a half-joke. Barely.

Andres sighs. “You’re probably right—hot water and low blood sugar don’t mix well. I need to take a shower anyway, so it works out. Do you still have my body wash in there?” He nudges toward the shower as he starts to strip.

“Of course I do.” We have doubles of everything in each of our apartments. He even has a complete diabetic kit across the hall just in case I sleep at his place.

“Alright, come on, mi sol. I’m starving.” Completely naked, he turns me around, gives me a smack on the ass, and pushes me toward the shower. “If you’re a good boy and eat your breakfast for me, maybe I’ll give you a treat.”