Chapter Five #2
“It used to be more than that. It used to be your dream, sweetheart. Don’t you remember? All those years you spent with a glove on your hand and grass stains on your pants, throwing that ball with your father. And when you actually made it to the big leagues, you and Brandon—”
“Mom, I grew up.” He dropped his spoon on his plate with a clatter and pushed it away, inhaling deeply, trying to banish the memories of Brandon—his high-fives and the stupid jokes he’d loved to lean in and tell while they sat shoulder to shoulder on the bench in the dugout.
“Hey, J, what do you call cheese that’s not yours? Nacho cheese!”
“Growing up is all well and good. But since when does it mean you have to stop loving? Stop dreaming?” She motioned beyond him. “Stop making friends?”
“I did that in little league and high school and college and the minors. And in Chicago and then Philly for a season and then San Fran.” He rubbed his face.
“I’m tired. I didn’t want to start over again.
I can do my job without being everyone’s buddy.
There’s no way the Caps will make the playoffs until they have a few more years together at least. They’re dreaming if they think otherwise.
And that’s fine. I’ve made my peace with not getting a championship ring.
I’ve had a good career. I’ll play the best I can as I finish out my contract.
It’s a job, and it doesn’t have to be more than that. ”
Helen stirred her cappuccino, the flower swirling out of existence. “No, it doesn’t have to be. You’re right. But it could be. You can still dream, sweetheart.”
“You’re as bad as Ron,” he muttered, only realizing with a sinking sensation what he’d said once the words were beyond his grasp. “Anyway, I appreciate what you’re saying, and—”
“Who’s Ron?” She watched him like a hawk, even though she was clearly trying to act casual as she sipped from her cup.
“Just a friend.” It was the truth, at least.
“A friend,” she repeated. “Well, that’s nice. Have long have you known this Ron? Does he live in San Francisco?”
Groaning internally, Jake answered, “A few years, and yes.”
“Hmm. And he’s a…special friend?”
As much as he loved his mother, he wasn’t going to discuss his sex life with her. “He’s married. Very happily.”
Her eyes widened, and she leaned in, hissing, “Married? Jake, I expect better from you. That’s just not right.”
“He and his husband have an open relationship. So Ron and I have a…special friendship, and it’s nothing more than that.”
“So it’s just sex.”
“Oh God, what did I do to deserve this?” He rubbed his eyes. “Can we not?”
“You don’t want anything more than—than booty calls?”
He had to laugh. “First off, please don’t ever use that phrase again, and second, no. I don’t. We had a good routine set up. It worked for me, okay? Now can we stop talking about this for the rest of my life? I’m begging.”
“You’re in luck. We can talk to one of your new friends instead.” She beamed and waved at someone behind him. “Hello there!”
Pasting on a smile, Jake turned to greet Banner or Lopez, his pulse spiking as he saw Nico Agresta instead with a leggy blond on his arm, being led to a nearby table.
Nico looked incredibly fuckable in black slacks that hugged his slim hips and strong thighs, and a royal blue button-up shirt that made his tawny skin look even richer. His lashes were so long around his rich brown eyes that Jake wondered if he used mascara.
Nico stopped short. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.” Jake nodded and smiled at Nico’s date.
Helen held out her hand and said, “I don’t know if you remember, but I met you once when Jake played in Chicago that year.
Your father invited me over for dinner, and I’ve never had gnocchi like your grandmother’s before or since.
Oh, and I’m Helen Fitzgerald. Like I said, it’s been years. Look at you, all grown up!”
Smiling politely, Nico shook her hand. His shirt had three buttons undone at the throat, and Jake watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
“And who’s this?” Helen reached toward the young woman.
From the momentary widening of Nico’s eyes, Jake wasn’t convinced he knew her name. Fortunately, she answered, “Amber Paige. So lovely to meet you, Mrs. Fitzgerald. And you, Jake. I’m a huge fan.”
Jake half stood and shook her hand. “Thank you so much, Amber. Have a great meal. The food’s delicious.”
Amber smiled widely. “I’m so glad to hear it! Everyone’s raving about this new chef, and I talked Nico into trying dessert before they close.”
“The crème br?lée was exquisite,” Helen said.
“We won’t hold you up,” Jake added.
With more nods and smiles, the torture was over, and Jake motioned to the waiter for the bill. He gulped down a mouthful of lukewarm coffee once the check was paid. “Ready?”
Helen nodded. “Thank you for dinner, hon. It was wonderful. And I have to apologize for nagging. Again.”
His smile was genuine this time. “No you don’t. It’s your job.” Once they got up, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay another day?”
“No, I’m hosting Dorothy’s birthday lunch on Saturday, and I need to drive home tomorrow and bake the cake. Don’t worry, darling. Your mother will be visiting plenty of times this season.”
They decided to detour to the bathrooms on their way out, and Jake unzipped at the urinal under low pot lights, faint music playing overhead that might have been sitar or perhaps a pan flute. The door opened, a wave of murmured noise coming from the restaurant before fading away.
“Oh.”
Jake glanced over his shoulder to find Nico by the sinks. “Hey.”
“I thought you left.”
“Just on our way out.”
Nico still stood there staring, and Jake had the strangest urge to ask him where he was headed next. Why should I care? He probably can’t wait to go home and fuck Amber. Jake smiled to fill the awkward pause and turned back to the urinal to pull out his dick.
Nico took his place with one urinal between them, and they pissed in silence but for the sitar pan flute medley tinkling in the air. Despite himself, Jake watched Nico from the corner of his eye.
Gaze UP, for fuck’s sake. He’s your teammate. And a kid.
Of course Nico Agresta wasn’t a kid at all anymore, and he’d grown into a hell of a pitcher.
Jake realized with a little jolt that he was actually excited to catch for Nico tomorrow.
There was so much raw talent there, and there was something about him.
He remembered how Nico used to grin back in the day when he nailed a pitch, two dimples creasing his cheeks deeply.
Jake wondered if he could get him to smile like that again.
In the low lights, he could make out the strands of dark chest hair poking out at Nico’s throat from the open collar of his blue shirt. He imagined what it would be like to tease his fingers through it…
Then Nico looked at him, their eyes locking, electricity flashing right to Jake’s dick in his hand. His sore knees wavered, and he tore his gaze away.
Stuffing his tingling cock back in his slacks, Jake zipped up and slammed down the handle to flush. He washed his hands at the sink and called, “See ya,” not waiting for a response.
On the walk back to the hotel, he asked his mom about the new charity project her seniors’ group was spearheading to provide breakfast at school for kids.
Obviously he donated a hefty amount to all her causes, but she insisted that local fund-raising was vital for a sense of community pride, and was surely right.
The late spring air was cool but fragrant, fresh and clean with the scent of budding flowers. As they strolled along the quiet sidewalks, not too many people out on a weeknight, Jake’s mind drifted back to Nico and his throat, his warm skin with hints of rich gold, the hair on his chest…
Sighing inwardly, Jake admitted it. Fine, he was hot for Nico Agresta.
And that was perfectly okay—Nico had grown into a hell of an attractive man.
Jake was used to being around a lot of sexy guys, and as long as he kept it out of the clubhouse and off the field, the odd lustful thought or appreciation of a fine ass wasn’t a problem.
And if there was something about the fixated way Nico looked at him through those thick lashes, that was fine too. Nico had always been an intense kid, and he probably looked at everyone like that.
Now that Jake had acknowledged his attraction, he could put it behind him and concentrate on his job.
“Do you think that sounds like a good plan?” Helen asked as they passed Parliament Hill.
Snapping his focus back, he nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
When Jake answered the room phone Friday morning, he assumed it was his mother before remembering she’d gotten up early to make the drive back to Midland in time for her Zumba class that afternoon. But he couldn’t hang up now. “Hello?”
“Fitz? It’s Diego.”
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
“I sent you a couple texts, but not sure if I still have the right number? I know it’s early, but I figured you’d be as wired as me.”
“Sorry. Haven’t turned my phone on yet today. Guess I’m in avoidance mode.”
Diego chuckled. “I hear that. I was just wondering if you want to come down the hall to my suite for breakfast, but probably not.”
Shame prickled the back of Jake’s neck. Diego had made such an effort over the years, and the least he could do was have breakfast with the guy. “Sure, that would be great.”
“Yeah? Cool. I’m in 1504. I’ll order two lumberjack breakfasts? Get our strength up.”
“Sounds good.” After hanging up, he sighed and hustled into the shower. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Diego—he really did. But when Diego was around, memories of that night years ago inevitably surfaced.