Chapter 19
So Far Gone
We chase our breaths, panting, every ounce of energy wrung from our bodies. My heart slams against my ribs, sweat dripping between my pecs and trailing down past my navel.
Will grunts, the steady thuds matching mine, spurring me to push harder. Each strained breath, each burn in my muscles, brings me closer to collapse, legs threatening to give out.
“Ah, fuck!” Will shouts.
“Fuck you!” I fire back, my foot edging just past his before we both collapse onto the sand, groaning through our laughter.
What was meant to be a low-key morning jog spiraled into a full-on beach race, leaving us sprawled out on the shoreline, chests heaving and grins plastered across our faces.
A perk of having my man own a sick beach house is private access to his little slice of paradise. No paparazzi or unwanted eyes. No media or anyone who doesn’t belong in our orbit.
Ever since that desperate-for-attention fan outed Will, we’ve taken full advantage of the privacy his home offers and have been laying low. A silver lining to this whole mess is that it hit right before the All-Star break.
The Rays gave Will extra leave on top of that, knowing the media frenzy would be impossible to juggle. His agent, Jerry, has been working double overtime to keep reporters off his back. The photos that leaked on that trashy gossip site only showed the back of my head.
The “mystery man” Will’s swapping spit with is still unknown to the public eye. I insisted on making my identity known to take some heat off Will, but he’s drawn a firm line in the sand on the matter, telling me it won’t do the situation any good.
I hate to see him hurting. He’s doing a damn good job of hiding it now, but I know deep down he’s struggling. So, I offer him what I can to distract him—sex and more sex.
“You cheated,” Will pants, rolling his head toward me.
“God, you’re such a sore loser, Sin. Admit it. You’re just an old man. So suck it.”
“Suck this,” he fires back with a smirk, palming himself through his shorts.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Our laughter floats effortlessly from us, something that’s been easy lately—despite the circus happening outside our bubble.
The bubble pops when Will’s watch rings, his eyes rolling when Jerry’s name flashes across the screen. He hits ignore.
“You just gonna ignore every call you get?” I ask, sitting up in the sand.
Will sits up with me, dusting the sand off his hands against his shorts. The sound of the ocean waves fills the silence, and I watch as Will squints toward the open water like he’s contemplating whether or not to swim out as deep as he can and never come back.
“Listen, Sinclair,” I start, slowly linking our fingers together. “You know I’ll happily live in this reality where no one but you and I exist. But sooner or later, we gotta get back out there. We can’t hide forever.”
He meets my gaze with a look of peace I haven’t seen in a while. A soft smile grazes his mouth as he gives my hand a squeeze before standing to brush the sand off his bottom.
He helps me up, then pulls me in until we’re chest to chest. I don’t expect the soft kiss he presses to my lips, but it makes my stomach flip anyway. Like a runaway train, Will Sinclair has me off the goddamn rails with just one kiss.
It’s scary how much power he holds over me, no matter how much I downplay it. It’s easier to think I can be there for him as his friend with benefits than it is to think that something deeper is happening between us.
Will’s sexuality is a fragile thing—one I’m not willing to break.
“This weekend is my family’s annual gala. Jerry’s probably blowing me up because my dad’s definitely hounding him for my lack of communication,” Will grumbles.
“So fuck it, then. Don’t go. Your dad doesn’t control your life. You’re a grown man, and you don’t owe him shit.”
His laugh is empty, and he shakes his head like I’ve just said the most incredulous thing. “I have to go. It’s important not just to my family, but to me.”
“Okay?” I drag out the word, trying not to get lost in his scent that’s causing my mind to wander to less innocent things. Will’s opening up to me, and all I can think about is how badly I want to lick the sweat gleaming off his chest. Jesus. “Care to elaborate?”
There’s a sadness in his eyes, his face falling just slightly. It’s enough for me to notice the shift in the air, a heaviness suddenly sitting between us.
“Remember how I mentioned my sister?”
I nod.
“The gala is in honor of her. O-of her life.”
My throat thickens with emotion. Will doesn’t have to say it out loud for me to read between the lines. I can feel his grief from here, along with the other swirl of emotions he’s been battling since his world came to an implosion.
“When?” I simply ask.
“She was eleven. Leukemia. I was thirteen, and she was my whole world. The day she died, a part of me died with her. My family hasn’t been the same since.”
Instantly, I think of Jade. My little sister who will forever hold the title of best friend. The one sibling I have who I’d burn the whole world down for. If she were to ever be . . . fuck. I can’t even think of it.
My arms circle Will’s waist, pulling him flush to me. Resting my head in the crook of his neck, I hold him there and let every apology and sympathy I have for his loss seep out of me that words can’t do justice.
When I feel drops of liquid fall onto my shoulder, I squeeze him tighter.
I don’t know how long we stand there on the beach holding each other. Salt in the air wafts around us like a comforting blanket, and the heat of the sun reminds us we’re alive and not alone.
Will releases me, our foreheads pressed together. “Tell me more about her,” I whisper, our eyes closed.
“I’d love to. But first—” He leans in and claims my lips one more time, swiping his tongue once inside my mouth like a tease. Our eyes open at the same time, a little spark shining in his again. “Can you make some breakfast? I’m starving.”
“Hmm, but you lost. It’s only fair you cook,” I tease as I nip his bottom lip.
“Is that what you really want? Toast burnt to hockey pucks and rubbery eggs?”
My shoulders shudder thinking about Will’s shitty cooking skills. He’s got time. I’ll get him there.
“Fine. But you owe me.”
Without another word, Will Sinclair sinks to his knees in the sand, taking my shorts down with him.
“Did you see me on that last set? I looked like a pro,” Mateo gloats, his smile just as blinding as the sun’s reflection off the water.
We both straddle our boards, floating in between waves. Outside of baseball, surfing has been an escape since I was a kid. My dad was an avid surfer and taught me as soon as I was strong enough to paddle out on my own.
We didn’t live walking distance to the beach, having had to drive almost half an hour toward the coast, but damn, I loved those mornings.
Boards strapped to the top of my dad’s beat up station wagon, windows down with my head sticking out the entire way like a dog until the scent of saltwater hit my nose.
Taking a deep inhale, I run my fingers through my soaked hair. “You’re getting better, I’ll give you that.”
“I had a good teacher. If you didn’t play baseball, I could see you being a surf instructor.”
I laugh, shaking my head at the nonsense of it. “Nah, man. Baseball is my first love. I love the water, but nothing compares to the game.”
“You got that right, papi. I’d rather smell dirt than ocean water,” Mateo muses.
“Ha. That’s for sure.”
We both stare out into the open water, looking for the hint of a swell coming. It’s calm out there with no sign of another set coming through. “But it’s still pretty fucking beautiful out here. I mean, shit. Look at that,” I say, pointing at the sun dipping lower into the horizon.
We float in silence as the sky shifts from blue to orange.
Mateo and I haven’t always been this friendly.
Once upon a time, he and I couldn’t stand to be within five feet from each other.
We still give each other constant shit and square up in a heated argument or two, but over the years, we’ve formed a friendship I’ve come to appreciate.
It helps that Mateo is bisexual like me. I never had to hide my sexuality with him, and although we butt heads more often than not, he’s never judged me for my desires. He gets it. We are two openly queer, professional ball players in a league that can be stuck in their old ways.
And even though we’ve both made headlines in the tabloids for our “lifestyle,” we’ve never crossed the line. We’ve shared many women—and men—in the past, but I’ve never even laid my lips on the guy.
I could say it’s because we’re teammates and we didn’t want to blur the lines, but that’s far from the truth. Truth is, Mateo and I have as much chemistry as a wet match and a brick wall.
On the field? We’re in sync. I can read him like a book. In the bedroom? Nada. Zilch. Zero.
“How’s Sinclair doing?”
“He’s alright. Good days and bad days.” I keep things vague because I don’t know how Will would feel if I were to air out his business to someone he doesn’t fully trust.
Yeah, we’re all teammates, but as pretty as Sinclair is—he’s skittish.
“You can do better than that. I know you like him, War. Don’t bullshit me.”
Mateo whips his hand against the water, splashing me in the face. I sputter, maturely splashing him back. We go back and forth a few times before we’re both laughing and over it.
“Alright, chill the fuck out. I like him, okay? A lot. He’s . . . I don’t know. He’s just—”
“Different?” Mateo tacks on.
I nod as my mouth wants to twitch into a smile. “I don’t know, man. It just sort of happened. And now after all this shit with him being outed and his reputation on the line—I just want to be there for him. Make it all go away, you know?”
Mateo makes a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. “No, I don’t know. But I hope I do some day, papi. Happiness looks good on you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter under my breath, cheeks heating under the weight of his compliment.
Damn. That’s the thing. I am happy. Even if I’m only getting pieces of Will, it’s more than nothing. Even if he tells me over and over “I’m not gay,” I have to trust deep down he feels something more for me.
Tell that to the way he holds me after we have sex. Or the way he belly laughs at my stupid ass jokes. Or how he kisses me after every meal I cook for him, gratitude pouring out of his heart.
That’s something, right?
Thoughts like this further prove how far gone I am for Will Sinclair. It proves how far I’m willing to go for a hint of a smile, so long as that smile is for no one else but me.
An idea strikes at the forefront of my mind so quickly I don’t realize I’m smiling until Mateo bumps his board with mine.
“What’s with the face, War?”
“I just thought of something epic, but I need your help.”