44. FRANKIE
FORTY-FOUR
FRANKIE
Jackson walks into my house, kicks off his shoes, and hangs up his dripping wet coat.
It’s torrential out there. He still hasn’t noticed me lounging on my couch.
As soon as I found out they got rained out, I packed up my things to work from home for the afternoon.
Any free minute we get, I want to take advantage of.
Pao Pao is next to me, currently battling it out with East on the gaming system. Shane is reading. My gaze lands on the cover, and my lips twitch. Finally convinced him to pick up the Puckboys series. He’s fully invested, though he’s still adamant baseball is way sexier for romance.
“Pebs says hi,” Jackson calls out.
I cock my head. Pebs? I assumed Jackson was returning from a workout.
He doesn’t let a rain-out interrupt his routine.
I know the guys had stayed at the clubhouse to get some training in before crashing back here, but I wasn’t surprised Jackson didn’t return with them.
He takes it further than most. He lives and breathes baseball to the point that he is baseball.
Shane snaps straight. “Bro’scuse me? You saw JJ? And you didn’t bring me?” His jaw tightens and, oh wow, Shaney-babe has claws.
“Sorry, Shane. I needed to discuss some stuff with him one-on-one.”
I lean around my brother. “What kind of stuff?”
His eyes go wide. “Oh. Hey, babe. I didn’t see you there.”
“Mmmhmm.” I arch a brow. But my heart softens at the babe. At how naturally it slides off his tongue.
He squeezes the back of his neck and glances at my laptop. “Do you have a minute?”
I bring up my Outlook and put myself in a meeting for the next hour. “Yup,” I say, popping the ‘p’.
I follow him into my room. He heads to my dresser and pulls open the drawer that I cleared out for him. He drops his jeans, and I bite my lip. Damn, that ass. I am well aware of how much Jackson can squat, and it shows. He bends over to put on his joggers, and a purr rumbles from me. Frankie wants.
He chuckles. “Easy, tiger. Talk first, okay?”
I step forward, knock his hands out of the way, and take over unbuttoning his shirt. I need my hands on him. “Agreed. I very much want to know about this super-secret meeting with Jed.”
“It wasn’t a secret meeting,” he says totally unconvincingly.
I shoot him a look.
He blows out a breath and runs a hand through his damp hair. “Okay. A tiny bit secret. I just…I needed advice.”
I push his shirt from his shoulders, tense shoulders.
“I’ve been contemplating something. And I’ve been taking some steps toward it.”
I grab the hem of his white tee. He lifts his arms obediently, and I pull it over his head.
“I knew Stone would have thought through everything already since he’s going to be in a similar spot soon too. I’m pretty sure he always planned on it happening eventually.”
I slide my hands up his abs and over his thick pecs. “What are you dancing around, Jackie?”
“I’m making plans for…coming out.”
My hands freeze.
Those blue eyes lock on mine. “I talked some strategy with Pebs. I think I have an idea of how I’d like to go about it, but there are a lot of moving pieces, one of which is getting signed with an agent who will stand behind me. I, uh, actually have a meeting with Stone’s agent tomorrow morning.”
My mouth opens and closes, but nothing surfaces. Everything slows to a snail’s pace. His words are swirling around me, but I can’t seem to make them out.
“Frank?” A hand lightly grips my jaw. “Babe? You in there? It looks like I lost you.”
And then everything speeds up, and it all comes crashing into me.
I’m making plans for coming out.
“You’re what?” I screech. “Jackson, what are you talking about? You’ve just begun accepting yourself.
Do you remember what you were like when we first started?
Twitchy and paranoid and terrified. And now you’re going to be an out professional athlete where you’re the center of the media’s attention?
You literally just came out to your parents!
Don’t you think you should, you know, let that settle a little first before you dive into the deep end with the sharks? ”
“I know it seems fast—”
I scoff. “Zero to fucking sixty, Jackson.”
This is ridiculous. Outrageous. Ludicrous. Nonsensical. Have I hit all the synonyms?
I throw up my hands. They’re flying all over the place. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m flapping about like a deranged flamingo—because while deranged, I’m still fucking pretty.
“I don’t understand. This is risky, Jackie. And it’s going to add so much more stress and pressure on you. Don’t you think it makes sense to at least start your major league career before you consider this? You being out is very different from someone like me being out. I’m no one important—”
“You are everything,” he cuts me off.
I still. My arms drift back to my sides. He’d said that last night…the night he’d said three other words. Words I’m not even sure he knows he said.
He cradles my jaw. “You. Are. Everything.”
I swallow against the lump desperately trying to form, and his thumb skates over my throat, chasing the movement. The organ in my chest takes flight.
“It’s not going to be rash or impulsive,” he says softly.
“I’ll start slow. Just the people who need to know in the franchise, my coaches, my teammates.
I need to discuss with the agent tomorrow, but I’ve gotta believe this guy’s good.
Stone wouldn’t hire anyone but the best. I’m still pretty invisible, so we might manage to go unnoticed.
But if not, that’s what I’ll have an agent for.
I’ll do this at the pace I want and am ready for, while being armed for all possibilities.
We’ll handle anything that comes our way. ”
“We?” I search those hypnotic silver-blue eyes, and my hands land on his waist.
“I know you said I needed to do this for me. And I am, Frankie. Getting to have you by my side, getting to acknowledge you as my boyfriend, that’s for me. It’s what I want more than anything.”
“Holy fucking shit.” The words fly from me in a stunned breath.
His lips twitch.
This is… This is… “Did you take a baseball to the brain?”
He drops his forehead to mine, shoulders shaking. “Nope. Brain in very good working order. Mental faculties at one hundred percent.”
“I’d beg to differ,” I say faintly. “I think you’ve lost your mental faculties.”
“I think…I’m in love with you and want the world to know it.”
Oh God.
“They say love makes people do crazy things.” My voice shakes slightly. This is definitely crazy.
His lips dust over mine. “They do.”
Another brush of lips.
“Be crazy with me, Frankie.”
He kisses down my jaw and hovers by my ear, one hand sliding to cradle my head. “I choose you, Francesco Nebiolo.”
My eyes well, and I squeeze them tight, but the burn doesn’t stop. Those words. A stuttered breath falls from me, but Jackson’s there to catch it. Catch me. Nothing gets past this outfielder. Stealing home runs. Stealing hearts.
His lips graze over my skin. My heart thunders in my chest, the room spinning slightly. This can’t be happening. It can’t be real. It’s too good to be true.
“I’m going to prove it to you, Frankie.” His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling my attention back to those serious blue eyes. “I want you to be mine. My man. My partner.” My world tilts. “And I want to be yours.”
A storm of fluttering roars to life in my chest.
“What do you say?” His whisper puffs over my lips. “Will you be my boyfriend, Frankie? For all the world to see?”
My fingers dig into his sides, latch on as everything around me goes unsteady. I nod, my lips trembling as they tilt into a smile. “Y-yeah, dolcezza. Let’s do this.”
Hands slide under my thighs, and I’m yanked into his arms at the same time his mouth crashes down on mine. A deep growl rumbles from Jackson and vibrates against my chest. My dick perks up. Mmm, give me more caveman.
“I’m going to love you so fucking loud,” he growls against my mouth.
“Yes, sir, more, sir, please, sir.”
His lips curl against mine.
He tosses me on the bed and follows me. And then makes true to his word.
He loves me really fucking loud.