25. JACKSON
TWENTY-FIVE
JACKSON
A savory-and-sweet aroma fills Frankie’s townhouse. I cannot wait for whatever creations Frankie and Shane are putting together. I am famished after our game. Well, I’m always famished. It takes a lot to fuel this big body.
Stone’s across from me at the dining table, elbows resting on the dark wood surface. He drove up late last night because today is an off day for the Jetties. We had an afternoon game, so we have the rare opportunity to all have dinner together.
It’ll be the last one before we hit the road again. This time for two weeks.
My chest squeezes. I have no idea how Shane and Stone do it—balancing two brutal schedules. Though sharing a room with Shane did enlighten me a bit. Lots of video calls. And with how many times I had to leave. Lots of phone sex.
“How’s it feel? Finally having people who know?” Stone’s quiet question pulls my gaze to his.
“Not real. Like I’m in a dream? I’m kinda terrified I’m going to wake up and be back in the nightmare I’ve been living.”
“This crew has that effect,” he murmurs. “Feels too good to be true.”
We glance over to the kitchen where Frankie and Shane are.
My eyes land on Frankie. He’s in ultra-distressed denim cut-offs that I’m pretty sure he made himself, a cropped long-sleeve t-shirt that says Frankie, Behave!
on it—that was a gift courtesy of Maddox—and high-top socks.
Not gonna lie, I think I’ve got a thing for those socks.
They hug his sexy calves. And he’s got really cute feet.
And a cute ass. That’s currently shaking to the rhythm of the *NSYNC playlist he and Shane have on.
They’re both busy getting dinner ready. Frankie’s been at it all day.
I even helped him a bit earlier. He’s making bolognese.
When I called it meat sauce, he got very displeased with me.
He immediately sat me down and lectured me on what makes a true Ragù Bolognese.
There were words like soffritto and pancetta and tagliatelle thrown out, and I was completely lost. But it is not the same as a meat sauce. Apparently.
“It does,” I say, my eyes not leaving Frankie’s dancing figure.
“I’ve been surrounded by people who would have—would still—disown me if they found out.
I never expected that my inability to resist Frankie would lead to this…
” I glance back at Stone. “Multiple teammates. Queer. I…” I shake my head and drop my stare to the table.
I’ve somehow landed in a safe space and in the best possible place, the place I love—baseball.
After the way I’ve lived my life… “I don’t deserve it,” I whisper.
“Maybe. Or maybe you deserve it more than any of us.”
My attention snaps back up.
He shrugs. “I had a father who loved me, completely supported me coming out. He was ready to stand by my side if I wanted to do the whole dog-and-pony show and do press conferences and photoshoots. I decided to go for a more private route, but he was pretty set on forcing the world to change, not me. I have lived a very privileged life.”
He sweeps a hand over the townhouse. “Frankie, Winters, and Maddox too. They all come from families that didn’t blink twice at them bringing boys home.
” He grins. “I still remember Madz telling me when Winters’s mom found out.
She shouted to the whole neighborhood that they still needed to use condoms even though neither of them could get pregnant. ”
Stone and I chuckle softly.
“We’re blessed,” he says. “Sometimes it feels like such a rarity to have a loving family. Pretty sure family dysfunction is the primary source keeping therapists in business.”
His gaze finds his boyfriend. “It amazes me how brightly some people can shine despite the adversity life throws their way.” He looks back at me.
“But despite Shane’s dad being the biggest piece of scum to walk this earth, his mother is an angel.
The woman is pure gold, so of course her son is sunshine. ”
He cocks his head, his gaze sharp. Stone sees everything, always assessing. I have no doubt he’s on his way to becoming Jetties’ captain. He’ll be the face of the franchise soon enough.
“I don’t think I’m wrong in assuming you have no one,” he finally says. “That makes all the difference, Olander. So, yes, you were an asshole, and I wanted to deck you in the face more times than I can count.”
A laugh bursts from me. “Ditto, dude. Me, I mean. Not you.”
We share a smile.
His gaze flicks briefly to the bracelet on my wrist. “But I think, in a weird, roundabout way, you were meant to fall into this group. You belong here if you want to be.”
Fuck. I glance away and frown against the sting building behind my eyes. I absently spin my bracelet. I want to belong here. I want to be here more than anything.
“You need this more than any of us do,” he says quietly.
Family. True family.
An excited squeal has our heads snapping toward the kitchen. “Shane, it’s time!”
Frankie throws Shane a wooden spoon, and they spin toward us, lip-syncing “Tearin’ Up My Heart” that just came on Frankie’s playlist. The opening gives way to the beat drop, and they both shake their hips in rhythm with it as they strut toward us.
Stone laughs next to me. The lack of surprise on his face and the adoring way he’s staring at his boyfriend has me thinking this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.
Frankie walks up to me and scoots me—chair and all—to face him. He slides a hand down his body, deliberately slow. The way his hips are moving should be illegal. And then he cups himself in time with the lyrics.
Things are getting out of hand, all right.
He leans forward and whispers, “But, bello, we can win.” Then he spins around, shaking his ass and throws the next line over his shoulder, swapping out girl for boy.
I nod. Because I want this boy, and I’ll let him know. I reach for him.
He steps between my open legs. As soon as he sings the word down, he drops to his knees. He slides his hand up my thigh, shooting me a flirty look from beneath his lashes.
I can’t take it anymore either, *NSYNC. Trust me.
I can just make out Shane in my periphery in what looks like the same position with Stone. My grin threatens to break my face. They totally planned this out together. And I kinda…really fucking love it.
He and Shane quickly backpedal toward the kitchen, pointing at us as they sing the chorus. They toss their spoons to the side. They’re completely in sync—ha!—as they do a choreographed dance.
They break off laughing after the chorus ends. I crook my finger at Frankie, and he glides over to me, an oh-so-pleased-with-himself smile on his face.
“You like?”
I bite my lip and rake my gaze over him. “Oh, I like.”
“Careful, bello. Keep looking at me like that, and we’ll be skipping dinner. And I think a few people here would be pretty unhappy if I don’t finish cooking.”
“Damn straight!” Nebs yells from the living room.
“Damn gay!” Maddox follows up.
I snicker.
“Damn bi!” Stone and Shane holler.
“Damn…demi?” Easton says uncertainly.
Frankie and I lock eyes. And burst out laughing.
“Damn queer,” Frankie murmurs.
I nod. “Damn queer,” I whisper. Then I pull him into my lap and kiss him.
I hold him to me, pour every ounce of what I’m feeling into our kiss. My fingers tighten in his hair. I hope he can hear the unspoken words. I’m so grateful for you. For what you’ve given me.
Lightness.
Happiness.
But most of all…
Hope