29. Grady
29
GRADY
“Leave it, Theodosia.”
“How am I supposed to leave it ?” Theo crosses both arms over his chest, a move that would be intimidating to anyone else. All I see is my big brother trying to bully me into something I don’t want to do.
My eyes cut to the other side of the studio, where Elliot and Charity are looking at her most recent art piece. It’s a massive canvas, stretching from floor to ceiling and portraying the rise and fall of a woman in love. It doesn’t specifically state what is wrong with the love she found, but you can feel that it’s off. You can see it in each brush stroke, in every line on the canvas.
“You could always stop bringing it up,” I suggest, biting the inside of my cheek to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face as Elliot animatedly tells Charity a story. I have no idea what he’s saying, but he puts all of himself in each word. He’s so beautiful when he’s like this, and I want nothing more than to be close enough to wrap my arms around him.
“Oh, no, I won’t be doing that,” Theo chuckles deep in his chest. I worry about the sound carrying to the other side of the room, but neither Elliot nor Charity seem to notice. “I don’t understand why you won’t just say it.”
“Maybe I don’t want to say it to you ,” I turn to face him, raising my eyebrows meaningfully. “Maybe I want to say it to him first? Did you ever think of that?”
Theo smiles in a way that tells me I’ve just fucked up. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Okay,” I murmur, unsure what to do with the manic smile still sitting on his face. “Then you’re going to drop it?”
“Absolutely not.” A massive hand cracks against my shoulder blade, and I nearly lose my balance at the force of it. “I’m going to continue to pester the shit out of you until you grow the balls to do it yourself.”
“What if I lose him?”
It’s the one thought that I can’t seem to shake, but Theo laughs it off as if it’s nothing. “You could tell that man you’re a serial killer and he wouldn’t bat an eye.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way he looks at you.”
We turn toward Elliot in unison, who is already watching us with an odd expression. He’s lost in his head, not seeming to realize he’s captured our attention, and I can’t stop the soft smile that spreads across my face.
“You’re so fucked,” Theo chuckles, swatting a hand against my chest.
I roll my eyes, not wanting to admit how right he is. “I hate you sometimes.”
“As you should,” he agrees, grabbing my bicep to steer us across the studio. “But I wouldn’t be your big brother if I wasn’t pissing you off at least a little bit.”
We spend another hour walking around Charity’s studio before Theo declares it’s time to take her home. The ride back to the hotel is quiet, until I turn off the main road, heading toward the old park Theo and I used to play baseball in. It’s been abandoned for several years, and the access road is overgrown with summer foliage, but I know the way.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Okay,” he shrugs, settling back into his seat. I’m starting to think Theo wasn’t exaggerating about the whole Elliot would be cool with me being a serial killer thing, which only makes the truth that much easier to say.
I barely have the car in park when the words come bursting out of me. “Theo’s in the mafia.”
Elliot is quiet for a moment before he turns to face me. I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say, knowing that I have to respect his wishes, whatever those may be. “Does it take some of the excitement out of it if I say I already guessed that?”
“You guessed?”
“Yeah, well,” Elliot blushes, giving me an apologetic look. “You said Theo worked for bad people and after meeting him it was pretty obvious you didn’t mean a rival sports organization.”
“No,” I chuckle, melting into the seat behind me. “That would be worse.”
“Undoubtedly,” Elliot agrees in a serious tone.
I’m not sure what else to say. I spent so much time worrying that Elliot would be angry or terrified, that I never considered he might just…accept it. “You don’t have any questions, comments, or concerns?”
“Are the all-black suits a uniform?”
“Uh,” I frown, trying to make sense of the words when my brain had been so focused on the idea that he was about to end things between us. “What?”
“The suits,” Elliot repeats, tilting his head to the side as he calls up some image in his mind. “Everyone’s suits were black, down to their shirts and ties.” He waves a hand in the air between us. “We were the only ones wearing anything colorful.”
“It’s sort of an unspoken rule,” I admit, still processing how this is the question he has. “The Brothers wear colors sometimes, but everyone else is always in black.”
“The Brothers?”
I freeze, realizing I’ve said too much. Then I force my muscles to relax because I haven’t said too much, this is the conversation we’re meant to be having. “Yes. The MacAlister Brothers.”
“MacAlister? Like, Callum?”
“Exactly like Callum,” I agree, waiting to see how he processes that information before I continue.
Elliot makes a noise, scrunching his brow. “That makes sense.”
“It does?”
“There’s something volatile in his stillness. Like a fighter that’s just stepped into the ring,” Elliot shrugs as if it’s as simple as that. There isn’t any chance he doesn’t understand that Callum kills people, though I doubt he’s aware of the extent to which Callum goes, but he seems to simply take it as it is. Callum kills people. Theo kills people. It’s their job, and Elliot’s fine with that. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“I’m just surprised, I guess.”
“About what?”
“The last person I told about my past threw her engagement ring in my face while screaming that I was a selfish bastard for trying to ‘ tie her to the mob ’.”
Elliot frowns, but I can see that he’s putting the pieces together. For the second time since we parked in this abandoned wasteland, the question he asks surprises me. “You were engaged to Mary?”
“For about twelve minutes, yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Grady.”
I try to laugh, but the sound I make is more like a wheeze. “Sorry that I was engaged or sorry that it was so short?”
“Sorry she didn’t realize you’re more than the circumstances you were born into.”
“Oof,” I slap a hand to my chest, and he rolls his eyes at me.
“If you think you’re the only one in this car that uses humor to avoid having serious conversations, you haven’t been paying attention.” He gives me a pointed look, but it’s clear there’s something else he wants to say. “Since we’re sharing painful secrets?—”
“Elliot,” I shake my head at him, though I’m not sure he can see it in the darkened cab. “You don’t have to?—”
“No, I need to say this,” he cuts me off before I can say all the things I’m sure he’s heard a thousand times. “Addison got behind the wheel because I was high. My best friend died because I decided to fuck around and take pills off a stranger, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I couldn’t bring myself to hang out with any of the friends Addison and I shared after the accident because the guilt was killing me. It hurt too much to see them and know that I was responsible for the pain they were feeling. So, I pulled back. And I kept pulling back until it was just me left. I didn’t just stop talking to my friends, I stopped talking to everyone.
“I’ve lived on the outside for so long that I forgot how to be in the middle. I forgot what it’s like to have people see you, to have them include you as more than an afterthought. I forgot how fucking scary it is to care about someone, and to have them care about you in return.” Elliot pauses, his eyes boring holes into mine as he tries to convey everything he’s feeling. “Your past doesn’t define you. It affects the decisions you make, the words you use, the reactions you have, but it doesn’t define you. You are more than your upbringing, Grady, and I’m sorry if people made you feel like that wasn’t the case.”
Tears burn in the back of my eyes as I reach out to thread our fingers together on the center console. “I really thought I was going to be the one comforting you tonight.”
“Yeah, well,” Elliot huffs, giving me a teasing smile. “That’s what you get for thinking.”
Somehow, I don’t tell Elliot about my feelings on the way back to the hotel. Or while we’re in the dugout the next day. Or on the plane ride home. Or when he’s spread across my bed the night after that. I don’t tell Elliot I’m falling in love with him when he’s eating breakfast at my kitchen table, even though the words nearly come out when he crawls into my lap to kiss me goodbye.
“You do remember we’re going to the same place, don’t you?”
“I do,” Elliot shrugs. He presses a soft smile into my cheek as he whispers, “But you do remember you’re my patient when we walk through those doors, don’t you?”
I do remember. However, Elliot doesn’t seem to have as good of a memory as he thinks.
“Fuck, Princess,” I sigh, running my hands through Elliot’s hair as he takes me to the back of his throat. We’re in his office, sweats around my thighs and my back pressed against a ridiculous motivational poster. We were supposed to be doing my PT, but Elliot jumped me the moment I walked through the door.
Not that I’m complaining. I love that Elliot’s getting more adventurous, asking for what he wants and taking what he needs. I’ll never complain about that.
“I’m close,” I warn, digging my fingers into his hair. “You gonna swallow my cum, Princess?”
Elliot groans, eyes fluttering closed as he shuffles closer to me. He isn’t touching himself this time, and while I appreciate having both his hands on me, I miss getting to see him chase his orgasm down while I’m fucking his throat.
“Maybe you don’t want to swallow? Maybe you want to wear my cum on your skin for the whole world to see, like the disgusting little whore you are.”
His eyes roll back, and he swallows around the head of my cock. My orgasm sparks faster than I’m ready for, and I come while buried in his throat. Elliot takes it in stride, pulling back until just the head of my cock is resting against his lower lip. I watch his open mouth fill with my cum, and I have the very serious thought that this is the way I want to die. I want this to be the last thing I see in this world. I’ve reached my peak. I’m ready to go now.
“Fucking filthy,” I chuckle, wiping a bead of cum from his lower lip. Elliot immediately chases my thumb, sucking it into his mouth. I almost say it, but I change the words at the last moment. “You’re going to kill me, Elliot.”
“As long as you die happy, sir.”
His tone is teasing, yet I can’t help but agree with his words. I am happy. I’m happy every time I’m with Elliot. Even when we’re not fucking, I’m happy just sitting with him. Talking to him about everything under the sun. Learning all the different sides of Elliot Bennett is my newest obsession.
A knock on the door sends ice through my veins. Elliot stares up at me with wide eyes, panic written in every line of his face. I locked the door when it became clear what Elliot’s intentions were, so no one is likely to come storming in, but who knows how loud we were being. There’s a long silence while we wait for the person in the hall to either knock again or say something that tells us they know we’re in here, but nothing comes.
Elliot carefully gets up as I drag my sweats back into place. He starts to move toward the door, and I hold up a hand to stop him. I don’t have time to explain that I will be quieter than him, but he doesn’t question me. My feet move silently across the floor, steps falling in the familiar cadence I learned from Callum decades ago. He always said silence is your best weapon, and in moments like this, I have to agree.
The lock disengages with a soft click, and I wait a moment before turning the handle with controlled movements. There isn’t anyone waiting in the hall, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“It’s all clear.”
“For now,” Elliot mumbles, moving to look into the hall himself. “We need to get to the gym.”
“Why?”
“So the next time someone comes looking for us, you’re not balls deep in my mouth.”
I snort at his blatant honesty, pushing the door closed with one hand while grabbing his sweater with the other. It’s ninety-eight degrees outside today, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt over his jeans and polo. My little cold-blooded Princess.
Elliot yelps when I drag his lips to mine, but he melts into the kiss quickly. He tastes like me, and I want to drown in it. I want to sew his flavor into my skin and wear his moans like a fucking badge of honor.
“Grady, we?—”
“I know,” I soothe, but I don’t allow him to step away. He doesn’t fight my hold, and I let myself breathe him in for another moment. “You are so surprising.”
Elliot doesn’t say anything in response to that, grabbing his tablet and moving through the door I’m holding open for him. He continues to not say anything all the way to the gym. I’m about to ask if he’s alright when we run into Perry coming out of the weight room.
“There you are,” he sighs, waving at the room behind him. “I was starting to think I’d gotten the days mixed up.”
Elliot’s head tilts to the side, confusion written on every inch of his face. “You were looking for me?”
“For both of you,” Perry corrects, holding open the gym door for us to pass through. I try to catch Elliot’s eye, but he’s refusing to look at me. “I told Grady I was going to monitor your session today.”
Now Elliot’s looking at me, but it’s that same look he used to give me. That horrible, intentionally blank expression that makes me want to scream.
“You did?”
“On the plane?” Perry looks like I’ve grown a second head. “You don’t remember?”
I think back to the conversation we had. Perry said he wanted to do an eval but didn’t say anything about a specific day. Then another memory surfaces and I bite back a groan. Perry was talking when Elliot came out of that airplane bathroom, looking fucked and happy. It distracted me from the conversation, which apparently included the fact that Perry wanted to monitor one of my PT sessions with Elliot. This PT session that we’re half an hour late for because Elliot was sucking my dick in his office.
“Shit, I forgot. Sorry,” I apologize to Perry, but I hope Elliot knows that apology extends to him as well. I wouldn’t have let him blow me if I remembered Perry was supposed to be meeting us today.
“No worries,” Perry claps his hands together, turning toward Elliot. “Take it away, Bennett.”
“Uh, yeah,” Elliot mumbles, turning on his tablet with one shaking hand. I feel like an asshole watching him be caught off guard. If I hadn’t been obsessing over the idea of Elliot being with that shitbag Shelby on the plane, I would have been able to prepare him for this.
I do everything Elliot asks of me, hoping that showcasing how good he is at his job will make up for some of my previous fuckup. He’s nervous at first, but eventually, he slips into Trainer Mode, and the fears fall away. Elliot quickly corrects me when I accidentally move wrong, explaining why certain movements are better or worse for my recovery. When he comments on how far my mobility has come, Perry interjects his own agreement from the corner.
“I won’t lie. I was surprised by the notes you sent in,” Perry admits, giving Elliot a guilty smile. “But I can see that you weren’t exaggerating. Your progress is impressive, Grady.”
“It’s all thanks to Elliot.”
I mean it, but I can tell from the slight roll of Elliot’s eyes that he doesn’t believe me. I’m about to double down and start listing all the things I never would have done without his help when Perry shocks the words right out of my head.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t start practicing again. We can re-evaluate at the end of next week and get you back on the roster. If you get through practice as easily as you went through PT, you’ll be on the field before the end of the Division Series.”
“Holy shit.”
“Holy shit,” Elliot echoes my surprise, but his is far more enthusiastic in nature. He thanks Perry for me, since no other words seem to be coming out of my mouth. Perry waves us off on his way out the door, calling over his shoulder about getting with our head coach to find out where he wants me to start. I only half listen to him, my mind racing a million miles a minute.
I’m getting back on the field. I’m getting back on the field this season . “We did it.”
“ You did it,” Elliot corrects, a beautiful smile stretching across his face. “You fucking did it, Grady!”
He slams into me, nearly knocking me over the back of the bench. I catch us both before we topple over, and Elliot’s surprised laugh rings through the room around us. He’s talking, saying something about improbable stats and metrics, but I can’t focus on his words when he’s straddling my lap like this.
I press my thumb against his chin, drawing his lips down to mine as he continues to run through the list of reasons why this shouldn’t have worked. My kiss doesn’t slow him down, and I smile against his mouth as he says, “unheard of” for the third time.
“Thank you.”
That finally gets his attention, and he frowns at me. “For what?”
“For going with my plan even when you didn’t think it would work. Thank you for believing in me.”
Elliot is quiet for a moment, his eyes taking on a serious look. “I always believe in you, Grady.”
I think about those words every day for the next week and a half. I think about them while running drills in the blistering heat that accompanies late September in Missouri. I think about them while doing my PT exercises in the gym every other night. I think about them when I’m trying to find a reason to reach out to Elliot that isn’t just “ Come over ”.
I’ve sent that text more times in the last ten days than I care to admit. Every time I tell myself I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to keep my dick in my pants long enough to tell him how I feel. I’m not going to blurt it out while I’m inside him. I won’t say how much I love him while he’s sobbing on my bed, arms tied above his head and his dick trapped in the dark green cock cage I bought him. I won’t ask him to spend forever with me when he’s licking his own cum off my boots in the kitchen after he came too soon while choking on my cock. I won’t beg him to pick me when I’m on my knees for him in the shower.
But the words get stuck in my throat every time I see him, and all I can do is ask what he wants to try tonight. Elliot never disappoints; his list is seemingly endless, but I know that isn’t true. It’s going to end before I’m ready.
It’s going to end tomorrow, based on the words coming out of Perry’s mouth.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he repeats, smiling broadly at me. I know I should be matching his excitement, running, jumping, and punching the air, but I don’t have that in me. “I’ve already cleared it with Maggert, and he’s excited to have you back on the field.”
Baseball has been my entire life since I was five years old. Theo handed me that stick, and my whole world snapped into focus. This was something I could do, something I could be , and I’ve been clinging to it with both hands ever since. So why is a lead weight dropping through the pit of my stomach at the thought of being back on the field?
Because that isn’t the thing I want the most.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Go?”
“Yeah,” I give him an apologetic look on my way out of his office. “I’ve got to do something that can’t wait any longer.”