Chapter 5 As If Fate Demanded It
AS IF FATE DEMANDED IT
The second time I saw that look was the first time he laid eyes on you.
If Cash and Sawyer’s batting coach hadn’t come striding over to check on me at that exact moment, who knows how long we might have stayed there — balanced on the knife’s edge of something beautiful and terrifying.
We’d sprung apart at the sound of the coach’s voice.
Cash and Sawyer had kept their wits about them, sweeping me up onto my feet and dusting the dirt from my laptop bag like perfect Southern gentlemen.
Chatting with the coach, showing off the rogue ball, then politely entertaining the coach’s colorful stories of near misses from the past.
Meanwhile, my entire world had been yanked upside down. Each atom rearranged, my limbs like jelly. No coherent thought except the dawning realization that Cash and Sawyer — obviously in love with each other — had just confessed that they wanted me.
They wanted me.
Eying my unsteadiness, Cash placed a warm hand at the small of my back when the coach’s head was turned and I relaxed instantly, already so responsive to his touch.
But the second we were alone again, I scooped up my bag and spun around to leave. Players were ambling over, grabbing water bottles, attempting to crack jokes with Sawyer. I hadn’t missed the awkward way they eyed me.
Hadn’t missed the coach’s initial hesitation when he saw how close the three of us had been standing.
Cash and Sawyer were clearly hurt as I made my excuses and fled. And knowing that was like a swift kick to the gut. But I’d panicked in the moment, the collision of my opposing wants and needs sending me into a tailspin.
Journalists didn’t have personal relationships with their interview subjects.
They didn’t date them, flirt with them, fuck them.
I had never, not even once, broken this rule before.
Especially when I was responsible for a series of articles about those same two people, publicly exalting their skills, their success, their charisma.
Anything I’d written thus far would be null and void —and unethical — if it got out that I’d developed real feelings for Cash and Sawyer during the process.
My editor, Sam, had been so enthusiastic about these articles. Had hinted at promotions and bigger, flashier stories that would elevate my profile even more.
This job had been hard enough to get as is — and the added rampant sexism so prevalent in sports reporting had made it even harder.
The men working above me — with the exception of Sam — wouldn’t be opposed to firing me for sleeping with the baseball players I was profiling.
In fact, they’d do it gleefully.
Three days after the rogue ball, the Philadelphia Revolution were on their way to DC for a double-header against the Nationals when their plane got grounded for mechanical issues.
Incidentally, my beloved 2005 Toyota Camry had finally given out after almost three weeks on the road, forcing me to leave it with a mechanic an hour outside of Atlanta.
Luckily, the high-end bus the team had chartered last-minute to drive them through the night had a few extra seats for the press. And when I shuffled down a narrow aisle in the dark, passed players dozing softly or zoned out with headphones, there was only one open seat in the back.
Right next to Cash and Sawyer.
Sawyer sat near the window while Cash occupied the seat facing him. They wore team issued sweatsuits and blinked blearily up at me as I stood there, stunned at the universe’s meddling.
“Good evenin’, ace,” Sawyer drawled. "You've been avoiding us."
“No, I haven’t,” I blurted out.
Cash clicked his tongue as he patted the spot in front of him. “And I thought you only reported on the truth.”
Ducking my head, I slunk into the seat and was immediately engulfed in their body heat, their musk of dirt and sunshine, their long legs crowding mine. I wanted to crawl into their laps, to be enveloped in two sets of strong arms and soothed.
Anything other than pretending that the truth they’d shared with me hadn’t upended my entire life.
“I, uh…I’ve been on deadline,” I breathed out, pushing the curls back from my eyes. “Had to really buckle down for this one. No getting distracted by America’s baseball sweethearts.”
Cash arched an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be us?”
“Sure is. At least according to ESPN.”
Sawyer rubbed a hand along his jaw. “If that’s the nickname they’re kickin’ around for us, I wouldn’t want ‘em finding out what you and I do in our spare time.”
Cash laughed, low and raspy, the husky edges identical to the way he’d sounded that night in the locker room. Don’t you look pretty on your knees for me.
I gulped, unsure of what to do with my limbs or how I was supposed to sleep next to these two.
I twisted around, avoiding eye contact, trying to get comfortable as the bus roared back onto the highway.
The rest of the players had settled back into sleep or music, and the only sound came from the rumble of the engine.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to sleeping on a bus,” Sawyer said, stretching out his legs and slipping his feet between Cash’s beneath the seat. “Cash and I slept on so many buses like this back in the minors, this whole ordeal’s got me feeling a little nostalgic.”
Cash’s lips twitched. “We might have gotten up to our own share of trouble on those buses every once in awhile.”
“There’s not a lot of privacy when you’re on the road,” Sawyer said, shooting me a sinful smirk. “You gotta get a little creative, is all.”
I could see it easily, the entire bus draped in darkness — just like it was now.
The cough of the engine muffling the sound of Cash’s hand, working inside Sawyer’s sweatpants.
Stroking faster and faster as Sawyer’s head tipped back against the seat, his teeth biting into his bottom lip to stay quiet.
I squirmed, keenly aware that two gigantic baseball players were toying with me on purpose, and I was enjoying it way more than I should.
“I swear I wasn’t avoiding you,” I lied.
“But it’s been three whole days,” Sawyer said. “Cash missed you, darlin’. I missed you.”
The urgent plea in his voice gave me pause. No more teasing, he was being sincere. It called forth a full-body blush.
“We were worried it was something we might have said,” Cash murmured.
“No, that wasn’t it at all,” I said quickly.
Passing headlights glanced off Cash and Sawyer’s expressions, and that’s when I realized they looked hurt. Worried. Just as they had when I fled the dugout three days earlier.
“Not everyone is…approving,” Cash added. “You know how it is out there in the world. Hardly a soul knows what we told you.”
Understanding slammed into me. I was shaking my head before Cash even finished talking.
“I’m queer too. I’m bi.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “Yet another thing I realized when I was with my ex. He was an asshole about it, of course.”
I watched as two sets of shoulders relaxed at the same time.
“I would never…never, repeat what you said to me. And I should have made that clear before I ran off the other day. You’re safe with me. Your secret is safe with me, I mean.”
Their eyes met across the small space. Headlights continued to stream by. Cash had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept much. Sawyer’s scruff was scruffier, and they’d both spent significant time in an icy whirlpool with the physical therapist after the last game.
They were leaving it all on the field every night, just like they’d promised, and I couldn’t imagine how exhausted they were.
Or maybe I really had worried them.
“That’s what happened back in your hometown, isn’t it?” I asked tentatively. “The reason why you left?”
Sawyer’s answering smile was weary. “You got it, ace.”
“My dad caught us together one night, kicked us out. And my mom just let it happen. She didn’t say a word, didn’t stand up for us,” Cash said. “By then, Sawyer and I were at the center of the rumor mill anyway. People always thought we were…”
“Too close.” Sawyer tipped his head to the side.
“We thought we were hiding it but people wouldn’t stop talking about us, everywhere we went.
We were already in a spotlight ‘cause of baseball and the scouts coming to see us play. Then Cash and I went from town heroes to town disgrace in less than 24 hours.”
My gut churned with disgust. “So they basically ran you out of Hart’s Island. That’s why you were so worried when I suggested we do these interviews. Have you heard from any of them?”
“Not yet,” Cash said bitterly. “Could be they see the positive press and it’s got them hiding away and licking their wounds. Could be they’re waiting to drop something the closer we get to the playoffs, who knows.”
I chewed on my thumbnail, worried for them both. There wasn’t a single out player in the MLB, let alone two players dating each other.
“The thing is, I never expected to be abandoned by the Barlows,” Sawyer said. “By my dad? Sure. But Cash’s family was nice. They were steady, secure, had family game nights every Wednesday. And they welcomed me into their home, never even seemed put out by it.”
“Why the change then?” I asked.
Cash yanked on the ends of his hair. Shrugged. “My dad could be very…exacting.”
“That’s one word for it,” Sawyer muttered.
“He had high standards that were impossible to meet,” Cash continued.
“With school, with baseball, with everything. Deep down I always knew he’d find the one thing he couldn’t ‘fix’ about me.
The thing that made me imperfect, in his eyes.
An embarrassment, is what he said in the end.
And he wasn’t gonna brag about his queer son’s accomplishments at church, now was he? ”
My heart cracked right down the middle.
“But it’s not something to fix, it’s something to celebrate,” I said, desperately.
“I was at this drag show at a dive bar in the city when I realized I was bi. Everything was fluid that night, like rules never existed. Like the rules had always been fake. Everyone was bold, happy. Extravagant. I locked eyes with a bunch of queer women tossing money to the drag queens, and I realized…that’s it.
The thing I’d been hiding from for years.
That’s me. And when I said it out loud, I finally felt free. ”
“Just like baseball,” Sawyer said softly.
“Just like baseball,” I repeated.
“Don’t I know that celebratory feeling.” Cash’s smile was genuine and aimed first at me and then Sawyer. “We wouldn’t change a damn thing. About any of it.”
“Well.” Sawyer shifted in his seat, pressing his knee against mine. “Until recently.”
Cash did the same, placing his giant hand on my bare knee. “Until recently.”
His rough callouses against my skin made me shiver. The strength in that hand, the raw talent, was in direct opposition to how carefully he was touching me now.
My breath caught, my eyes glued to where the three of us touched. I turned to see if anyone was watching, but every nearby player was sprawled out, asleep.
“Don’t look at them,” Cash said. “Look at me.”
I obeyed, a rush shooting through me at the arrogance in his tone. Sawyer was gently brushing the hair from my neck, tracing one finger along the shell of my ear. Then I felt his mouth hover there, his voice urgent.
“Cash and I didn’t explain ourselves well the other day. It’s our first time feeling anything like this, and we’re not entirely sure what to do. So let’s try again. Would you like that?”
I shut my eyes, severing the hypnotic hold they had over me.
“But whatever you’re about to say to me, even if I want to hear it…and I do…,” I whispered, “it’s against every rule in the book. All of them.”
“What rules, darlin’?” Sawyer said. “You just said they were fake anyway.”
My cheeks warmed happily at the memory of that drag show, and the path that had led me from there to here. He was right, I knew he was right, and still —
“They’re not fake for sports reporters,” I said. “Or for baseball players. Not right now, not when things are the way they are.”
“I know. I know they aren’t,” Cash said. “But Sawyer and I have spent our entire lives hiding. And why? To what end?”
My eyes pricked with tears. So did Cash’s.
“I know the feeling,” I admitted, thinking about my ex, how he made my queerness feel like a joke. Like it was insignificant. So I shoved that part of myself into the back corner of my brain until I could freely examine it again.
Sawyer pressed his forehead to my temple. “What Cash and I meant to say to you the other night, was that we never planned to go and fall for someone else. It’s always been just the two of us…until the night we met you in that parking lot, Darcy.”
He kissed my cheek, his next words spoken into my skin.
“This isn’t some temporary pick-up for us.
We’re asking you for something real. Something new we can explore together.
Cash and I always thought of our meeting as something rare.
A lightning strike. But now here you are, as if fate demanded it. ”
My body glowed. I was incandescent. I was the refracted light of the disco ball at that drag show, when my truest self was finally revealed.
“I want you both, even though it scares me.” I breathed. “I want something real too, even if we could lose everything.”
Cash dropped his head and kissed the top of my knee. I couldn’t quite hear what he said but it sounded like thank you.
Then Sawyer’s hand landed on my other knee, tattooed where Cash’s was tanned.
Their thumbs swiped along the sensitive skin there at the same time, in big circles.
They slid higher, then higher still, their long fingers reaching, stroking.
It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen, watching my legs be moved and touched by two men at the same time.
Was I really going to deny myself this?
In so many ways, this singular moment felt inevitable from the second I saw them on that baseball field. That zap in the center of my gut, a wild instinct that felt more like recognition. Or a reunion after years apart.
I saw the highly-planned course of my life crack down the middle. No longer one reporting gig after another, constantly reaching for a promotion. Then another one. Clear-cut and safe.
Cash and Sawyer were the opposite of safe. They were lightning strikes too, scorching the middle of the path, bright and dangerous. They were the electrifying thrill I got from every ball game made manifest.
And there was nothing I loved more than that.