Chapter Twenty #3
“So Detroit decides to intentionally walk him, and they start the whole routine. Mom freaks out. ‘They’re not letting him hit! Why aren’t they letting him hit?
’ She’s shouting this so loudly that I have no doubt everyone on the infield could hear.
The first baseman’s looking over, security’s coming down the aisle, and I’m getting ready to be ejected. ”
Laughing, Helen shrugged. “What can I say? I get wrapped up in sports.”
“She was so indignant!” Jake gave his mom a wink.
“I still don’t like that rule, for the record,” she said.
Nico’s laughter died in his throat as he looked up and realized Skip and Martin Tyson, the Caps’ GM, were in the doorway. And that they could see Nico and Jake were holding hands. Nico tugged his hand free, shoving both in the pockets of his jeans.
“It’s all right, we already know,” Skip announced as he bustled in, chomping on gum as usual. Nico realized it was the first time he’d seen the man out of uniform, although he still wore a Caps jacket in red and white. Skip added, “In fact, everyone does.”
Nico’s breath caught, his ears ringing. What did Skip say?
Tyson closed the door behind him. “Mrs. Fitzgerald? How nice to meet you.”
As Tyson made introductions, Nico met Jake’s wide eyes, his pulse pounding. Everyone knew? What the actual fuck?
Tyson smiled smoothly and asked, “Jake, how are you feeling?”
“Like shit. What happened? How does everyone know?”
“I only just found out five minutes ago,” Helen said.
Tyson adjusted his tie, smoothing a palm down his expensive charcoal suit. “Seems that someone in the loading dock of the stadium was filming on their camera when Jake was put into the ambulance. They shot through the back window, capturing a moment when Nico briefly kissed Fitz.”
“Now it’s a goddamn tree,” Skip muttered, chewing madly.
“Vine,” Tyson corrected. “And it’s gone viral. We’re taking all measures to find out who took the video and apparently sold it to a gossip site.”
“Oh my God.” Nico’s head spun. “I’m so sorry.” He looked to Jake, who still watched Tyson.
Skip’s craggy face creased even more. “Sorry for what? Some cowardly asshole invaded your privacy. Their ass is grass when we figure out who it is.” He blew a forceful bubble.
“I had a feeling something was going on with you two, but decided as long as it wasn’t impacting the team, I’d stay out of it until it did. ”
Nico stared at Skip. “You knew?” The other shoe dropped. “That’s why you told me to go with Jake in the ambulance.”
Skip shrugged. “Figured you’d be the best person.”
“Thank you.” Nico shifted from foot to foot. They really weren’t in trouble for lying?
Tyson cleared his throat. “As I said, we’re taking all measures to discover the culprit. This is obviously a stressful time already, and I wish this hadn’t happened. But the Ottawa Capitals support you both a hundred percent.”
“You do?” Jake asked warily.
“Absolutely,” Tyson answered. “I can’t say we’re thrilled with the idea of teammates dating.” He glanced at Skip. “Or that it wasn’t disclosed, but that’s an issue for another time.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Jake said. “I’ll never be able to play again.” He held up a hand. “And I know you’re all going to argue and say anything is possible, and blah, blah, blah. But we know what the reality is.”
Nico did want to argue. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs that it wasn’t true, but it wouldn’t change anything.
“Yes, well.” Tyson sighed. “We’re going to issue a statement saying our players’ personal lives are none of our business and our priority is Fitz’s health and well-being. The PR manager will work with you both on your statements. For now, try to avoid the press and don’t engage in any way online.”
They nodded, and after a few more inquiries into Jake’s leg, Skip and Tyson were gone. Nico dropped onto the side of Jake’s bed, his knees weak. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Jake took his hand again. “I know you didn’t.
And everything’s okay. Don’t worry about me.
God, I was always afraid of this.” He exhaled.
“But it’ll be all right. We’ll get through it together.
Of course that’s easy for me to say—you’re the one who still has to go out on the field. And shit, your dad.”
“I’m sure he’ll support you unless he’s a complete fool,” Helen said with a frown.
Nico pulled his phone from his pocket. The battery had died the night of Jake’s injury, and he’d only gotten around to recharging it that morning, not eager to talk to anyone anyway.
The screen lit up with dozens of messages, and he looked for his dad’s name in the list of texts. Trembling, he tapped. There were two, the first from two nights ago.
That slide would have been dirty even before all these namby-pamby new rules.
Nico smiled. It was his dad’s way of saying he was sorry about Jake’s injury. Then he scrolled down to the next message.
That was a pretty stupid move getting recorded like that. But you and Fitz tell anyone who doesn’t like it to go to hell.
“And?” Jake asked.
“He sends his best. In his own way.”
Helen rounded the bed and pulled Nico into a gentle hug. “It’s all right, dear. It’ll be better now that it’s out in the open, you mark my words.”
Trying to quell the rising dread as he leaned into her sweet softness, he could almost believe it.
It’s just another day. Just another game.
But when Nico walked into the clubhouse a few days later, all eyes were on him. Skip had let him stay away while he got Jake settled in his place instead of riding the bench between starts, but now it was Nico’s turn in the rotation.
Staffers nodded to him with too-bright smiles as he walked the hallway, and inside the locker room, conversations stopped. He’d come in later than his usual, and most of the guys were there.
Silence descended but for the murmur of SportsCenter on one of the TVs. Sweat prickled Nico’s neck, and his mouth was a desert. He’d stopped instead of going right to his locker, and now he stood there like an idiot.
“Hey, brother.” Crowe jumped up from a couch, his bushy red beard swaying. “Good to have you back.” He came right up to Nico and gave him a hug and slap. “How’s Fitz?”
It took a second to croak out, “Fine. I mean, he’s not, but. You know.”
Palmer bounded up right behind Crowe, the streak in his afro now dyed purple. He hugged Nico too. “Welcome back.”
From behind, Diego said, “Hey, man! Good to see you.” Another hug and slap. “Don’t let Fitz give you too much trouble. I’ll be over tomorrow to make sure he’s behaving.”
Nico tried to laugh, but was afraid he might cry as one by one, the team greeted him. The odd smile or handshake seemed forced, but the vast majority of his teammates welcomed him back with open arms, literally.
“Fitz said you’ve been doing a bang-up job scuffing balls before your starts.” Baldoni clapped Nico on the arm and held up Jake’s iPod dock. “He told me to get it out of his locker. We’ll head to storage after BP, yeah? I’ve got you covered.”
Nico nodded. “Thanks. I… Thanks.” He glanced around. “To everyone. I know this must be freaky.”
Crowe shrugged. “Only thing freaky here is the stench of Banner’s feet. Jesus Christ, son—how does that smell occur in nature outside a trash heap?”
Banner scoffed. “And you smell like fuckin’ roses.”
Some guys joined in the ribbing, and others wandered back to their games and tablets and SportsCenter.
And that was it.
Nico made his way to his locker just like any other day, sweet relief cushioning his steps, gratitude filling him.
He and Jake had released a statement via the PR team that they were just two of the many gay and bi players in baseball, and they hoped all players would be accepted and supported, etc. , etc.
The PR people had written it, and as long as Nico didn’t have to say anything himself, that worked for him.
The media had been strictly instructed to only ask about baseball after the game.
Maybe one day he would give some big interview and talk about his feelings, but…
not yet. For now, it was just another day at the ballpark, and he had a job to do.
The memory that it wasn’t any other day because Jake wasn’t there was a stab of grief in Nico’s abdomen. Not that he didn’t appreciate Baldoni’s support, and had done just fine with him before, but Baldoni wasn’t Jake.
Nico sat on his leather chair and ran his fingers over his waiting uniform, hanging proudly. If all went to plan, he’d be playing for at least a decade, if not almost two if he protected his arm.
He’d likely partner with dozens of catchers, and he hated so fucking much that none of them would be Jake. But that was baseball, and this was the first day of the rest of his career. It would never be the same, but he had to deal with it.
If he played his cards right, at least he’d have Jake at home, and that was far more than he’d ever thought possible.
“Hey, want to come play the new racing game they put in the lounge?” Diego asked as he approached.
Normally he’d say no. Nico glanced at Jake’s locker, where his uniform still hung, his glove and bats and pads all tucked inside. There would eventually be another name there. This was the new normal. He pushed to his feet. “Sure, man. That would be cool.”
By six, Nico was back at his locker, changing into his uniform. He and Baldoni had scuffed balls and listened to Blink-182, and it hadn’t been the same at all—but it hadn’t been bad either. Now he was counting down the minutes, thinking of Jake at home.
Home. Was it their home now? Were they living together? Jake had moved in, but was it permanent? There was a month left of the regular season, and then what? Nico hadn’t even thought about where he’d live in the winter.
Socks pulled up and belt buckled, he checked the clock again. Quarter after six.
Stomach churning, he walked calmly to the bathroom, nodding at guys on the way and sidestepping a game of dominoes that had sprawled onto the carpet. Alvarez was finishing up at the urinal, and Nico ducked into the last stall—his stall.
Leaning against the door, he breathed deeply. He hated that Jake wasn’t waiting by the sinks. For once, Nico would welcome the disapproving sigh and frown lines.
What will happen if I don’t puke?
The thought ping-ponged around his mind as he stared at the empty toilet, the seat up, metal handle gleaming, faint smell of disinfectant in the air. He inhaled again, counting as he exhaled. Then again. And again.
I don’t have to be perfect.
Shoulders back, he rolled his head ear to ear, breathing steadily. After a minute, he realized the churning had subsided, only a faint flap of butterflies in its wake. It was normal to be nervous. To be excited.
He stared into the toilet again. Part of him, a low, scared growl, commanded that he bend over and let go, purge the bad energy.
Is it really bad? What will happen if I don’t puke?
If Crowe laced his right cleat before his left, would that really make a difference in the game?
Sucking in another long breath, Nico knew the answer was no.
And would it really make a difference if Nico went out on the mound with food in his belly?
Maybe he’d even pitch better, wouldn’t have to chug Gatorade.
I don’t need this.
Closing his eyes, he visualized the field, the mound, home plate. He was allowed to be nervous. It was okay. He wasn’t going to throw up out there. He was going to pitch his best, and the chips would fall where they did.
I don’t need this.
Excitement fueling his steps out of the bathroom, almost running, he grabbed his phone from the shelf in his locker, thumbs flying as he texted Jake.
Going out there. Won’t be as hungry afterwards. I don’t need the ritual. Wish me luck.
The three little dots appeared almost immediately. Then:
Break a leg, baby. Oh wait, I’ve covered that. You’ve got this.
“Ready to warm up?”
Nico looked up to find Baldoni standing there, pads in place along with a smile. Nico nodded. As he put the phone back on the shelf, it vibrated again.
So proud of you.
Sliding on his glove and flexing his fingers in the worn leather, he returned Baldoni’s smile. “Ready.”
As he walked from the bullpen to the mound half an hour later, Nico concentrated on breathing steadily, eyes on the turf.
He soon became aware of the crowd buzzing and applauding, which was strange since the first pitch hadn’t been thrown yet.
When he looked up, he did a double-take, almost tripping over his own feet as he jerked to a stop.
Rainbow flags filled the stadium, thousands of them being waved enthusiastically, ripples of color all around.
“Dude, this is amazing!” Grinning, Baldoni slapped him on the back, and they started walking again. “Gotta love Canada.”
And God, it really was amazing. Thirty thousand strangers clapped and hooted and waved rainbow flags for him. At the mound, he could only stare in wonder, emotion thick in his throat.
Lifting his cap, he raised it to all four sides of the stadium, one after the other in a slow circle as the crowd showed him so much love.
When Nico had the ball and everyone was in place, the ump called, “Play!” And even though it wasn’t Jake giving him the signs, Nico felt him in every cheer and each pitch.