22. JACKSON
TWENTY-TWO
JACKSON
What a game changer—sleeping with someone else, having someone in my arms, waking up to someone. I don’t think Frankie understands what it means that he’s giving me this.
If I’d really wanted, I could have found a discreet hookup to get off with.
I’m not at a point where I’m all that recognizable, though my size is a giveaway.
But I could have taken a drive somewhere during the season—definitely not when I’m back home during off-season—and made a no-faces, no-names thing work.
My chest constricts, and my hands immediately turn clammy.
All the air in my truck has disappeared. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t have.
God, Frankie… He’s… I have no words to describe the feeling inside me. The sex has been amazing—the few times we’ve done stuff. I let out a slow breath. Do not think about that right now.
But it’s not the sex that has me walking on clouds with a ridiculous smile on my face. No, it’s getting the closeness, the parts that feel like a relationship, that sometimes overwhelm me. I’m filled with so much gratitude, I swear I’ll burst from it.
All my friends, my brother, my teammates, they all got to have that growing up.
Someone to call at night, to text throughout the day, to hold in their arms or be held by, to simply just be present with.
Those crushes who have you walking around with a goofy smile on your face?
That wasn’t ever in the cards for me. And it’s not something I thought I’d experience until after my baseball career was over.
I grip my steering wheel and let my head fall to it. I squeeze my eyes against the pressure building there. It’s just really fucking nice. To feel like I’m not alone for once. That I have somebody. That I’m allowed to have somebody.
My phone dings.
I grab it from the console. A notification of a new text message fills the screen, and I tap it. And stare blankly at the messages that pop up…and don’t stop popping up.
Michaels
Yoooooo.
Creating a group chat so we can help our newest recruit.
Bring on the gay sex tips!
The chat group title changes to Just the Tip.
Winters
I’m scared.
Barnes
I never agreed to this.
Stone
I don’t understand why I’m included in this.
Michaels
…
JJ, babe. If you don’t know why you’re here, I’m very concerned for the both of us.
Barnes
Maybe the only one who shouldn’t be here is Shane.
Michaels
Wow. All I want to do is help a bro out, and this is the thanks I get?
My chest shakes with laughter, and I cover my grin with my hand. These guys are something else.
Michaels
I thought it was a nice gesture, given Olander came to us for help the other day. Now he can have access to us anytime he needs blowjob tips.
Barnes
I’m just going to throw this out there…
Maybe Shane is the one here for the blowjob tips. Considering what Stone alluded to.
Michaels
Gasp! You did NOT go there.
I finally type out a message while I softly chuckle.
Me
What if we agreed we could all only benefit from blowjob tips?
Winters
Truth.
Stone
Jokes aside. I do think this was a good idea. We’re here if you need us. I’m sure Frankie is a great teacher, but I also get there are some questions you might feel more comfortable asking someone who you’re not hooking up with.
Barnes
There’s the old man being wise again.
Stone
I’m only two years older than you fuckers.
Me
Pretty sure we’re the same age.
Michaels
Frankie said it best. Being a Daddy isn’t about age. It’s a vibe.
Winters
And Stone has old man vibes. Got it.
Barnes
Stone
I hate you all.
Me
Grandpa’s grumpy today.
*Stone leaves chat*
*Stone is added back to chat*
Michaels
Nice try, babe.
I bite my lip against my smile and tuck my phone into my pocket. I need to get my quick workout in before I get so lost in this chat I miss my chance.
I take a seat on the bus and pop my headphones in.
I’m one of the first ones here since I worked out beforehand.
The new guy, Trent, ended up joining halfway through, so I’m sure he’ll be here soon.
The guy was lifting waaay too heavy for mid-season.
He’s going to kill his game—or worse, end up injured.
Someone comes crashing into the seat next to me, and I jolt. And blink at a face that’s practically all blinding teeth. I pull off my headphones.
“Hey, Olliebear,” Michaels says.
“Hi…” I cock my head. “Olliebear?”
He scoffs. “Um, it’s your nickname, bro. Obviously. You’re a fucking bear. And you’re Olander. Olander plus bear. Olliebear. It’s not nuclear physics.”
I don’t think that’s the phrase…
“He’s right,” Winters says, sliding into the seat in front of us.
Nebs is quick to follow. He glances at me and doesn’t say anything. I think I’m safe from him killing me, but he still doesn’t like me.
“Yo! Trent!” Michaels hollers as Trent shuffles onto the bus with his head down. “Grab the seat behind us!”
He looks up, cheeks already going red, and nods stiffly, then hurries to the seat. The poor kid. He’s prone to blushing and perpetually nervous. He’s a hell of a third baseman, though. A thousand times better than Dev was, which explains how he jumped from Single-A to Triple-A in one giant leap.
I turn back to Michaels. “You’ve never called me that before. We’ve been on the same team for months now.”
He shrugs. “You were an asshole then. I like you now. So you’ve earned a fun nickname.”
Like it’s that simple.
“What’s this about a fun nickname?” O’Neil says from the seat across from us. “Also, where the fuck you been, Olander? Haven’t seen you in our suite all week.”
“You know what that means,” Slater says, leaning over from behind O’Neil. “Someone’s found himself a sidepiece.”
“Dude. No one says sidepiece anymore,” Michaels says. “What are you, geriatric?”
I choke on my laugh, and all I can think about is our group chat.
But also… Shit. I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t even thought about how it’d look to my roommates that I just…disappeared. Fuck. This is why I’ve avoided this for so long. There are so many things you have to be aware of, so many places to cover your tracks.
O’Neil cackles. “That’s fantastic. Old man Slater.” He pauses and cocks his head. “Also, why are you two sitting together? I thought you discreetly hated Olander, Michaels.”
Ouch.
“I’ve recently discovered he’s not half bad. He’s, like, not the best, but I can put up with him now.”
I smack him across the back of the head. “Fuck you.”
He glances over his shoulder and grins at me before looking back at O’Neil and Slater. “That’s where he’s been. He’s been crashing at our place.”
“We’re holding him hostage,” Nebs chimes in. “He keeps trying to leave—no fucking idea why, because we’re great—but we won’t let him.”
Henderson walks past to find his seat and calls back. “I’m not complaining about having the room to myself.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s all a ploy so he can have Barnes work on his shoulder. He doesn’t actually like any of us,” Winters adds.
“Wait. Is there room for one more?” Thompson asks. He falls into the seat across from Nebs and Winters. “Because I had my best game ever after he worked on my arm.”
And just like that, the conversation turns to how we can steal Barnes for our athletic trainer once he graduates. No one is paying attention to or asking questions about me anymore.
I glance around as the guys continue to joke around.
Michaels’s hands are in full motion as he talks—his entire body, actually.
Winters is apologizing for not having the forethought to stuff Barnes in his duffle and bring him on the road with us.
My gaze clashes with Nebs’s, who’s silent.
He watches me for a beat, then looks away. Even he stepped in to cover for me.
“Oh!” Michaels spins around to face me. “Olliebear. I forgot to tell you. I’m your new roomie. You know, since mine got the call-up and yours…well, your last one was a bigoted asshole who got kicked off the team. I’m a huge upgrade.”
Isn’t that the fucking truth?
“There weren’t any quieter options available?” I chirp.
“What he failed to mention is that everyone else refused to room with him,” Winters says.
“Ah, so I got the short end of the stick.”
“We didn’t want to scare off Trent,” Nebs says. “So, we put him with Thompson. We figured if he roomed with Michaels, we’d risk him quitting baseball altogether. And we really need his fucking talent.”
A chorus of laughter fills the bus.
“I’m a fucking delight,” Michaels grumbles.
“You’re something,” Thompson says with a grin.
“Who wants to play Mario Kart!” someone calls out.
A bunch of guys call back in agreement, and everyone starts settling into their seats, headphones and gaming handhelds coming out.
I go to put my earbud back in, but Michaels leans over to me and lifts his fist. “I got your back, bro,” he says quietly.
“A week is a long time. Figured you might need some video calls to get through it. I can disappear when needed, and I don’t ask questions.
” He bounces his eyebrows. “I’m not like a regular roomie; I’m a cool roomie. ”
My head falls back with a laugh. “Dude. Really? Corny as all hell.”
A smile splits his face, and he wiggles his waiting fist. I dab it.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” More than he knows. “And I can do the same for you.”
“I knew you weren’t all bad.” He relaxes into his seat.
I arch a brow. “Did you, though?”
“No, I really did think you were a piece of shit.”
I cough on a laugh. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
I finally put my earbuds in and turn on my playlist. Frankie’s playlist, to be exact. The one he made for me. There are quite a few boy bands on here, hits spanning the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, and of course, quite a few from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.
Michaels gives me a friendly shoulder bump, and I shoot him a smile.
It’s weird. I’ve been surrounded by this my entire life. The chirping. The dicking around. The playfulness of teammates. I had that with Dev. It’s not like we didn’t have a good time, even if the jokes were threaded with an ugly subtext.
But this feels different.
Maybe because I always knew my other friendships were surface level and temporary.
Maybe because these guys know more about me than anyone else in the world does.
And they’re still here.
Coming to my aid when I need it. Seemingly enjoying my company. Well, not Nebs, but maybe one day he’ll warm up to me.
For the first time in my life, it feels like I have people in my corner.
“Oh! Bro! I almost forgot.” Michaels rifles through his drawstring and pulls something out. He holds it out to me, wiggling it.
I stare at the navy blue and dusky violet bracelet. “What’s that?” I curse how hoarse my voice comes out. Because I think I know what it is. I’ve seen them on Maddox, Winters, and Nebs.
Michaels’s mouth hooks up on one side. “It’s your friendship bracelet, Olliebear.”
My throat closes over, and I frown hard against the sting behind my eyes. Oh.
I hold out my wrist. I’m not capable of words. Shane’s gaze darts to mine, then goes back to where he’s securing the bracelet around my wrist.
“Officially one of the crew,” he murmurs.
I grunt.
A small smile curves his lips, and he knocks my knee with his.
Officially one of the crew.