Chapter 30
Paxton
The venue was decked out in Blue Jays colors, every surface carrying the logo I was still getting used to seeing on my chest. There were kids running around with foam fingers and jerseys that were three sizes too big, parents trailing behind them with a mix of exhaustion and joy gracing their features.
I'd done enough of these through the years to know how to move through them without it feeling like work. Smile for the camera. Sign the jersey. Crouch down to a kid's level so they feel seen.
That last part had never been difficult for me. Kids were my favorite part of any event. They wanted to know if you thought their favorite player was cool and whether you'd ever hit a grand slam.
It was a pretty low barrier to entry. You had to be an asshole to truly upset a kid.
The charity component had gone smoothly too. Kenneth had spoken first, his passion for baseball shining through. I loved knowing how involved he was. His past with the sport made him an excellent manager for the team. Add in that he’d once owned it, and you got a winning combo.
Royce had followed Kenneth’s speech with a sharper, funnier one. The room was split in half in their responses to them. Half were in awe of their beauty, while the remaining appeared to be excited to have a Bellport in their midst.
That family truly was royalty in these parts. It was trippy to see in real life after spending so long researching them.
The team was better from Royce and Kenneth’s leadership. Our coaching staff was great, but I was a big believer that greatness was a top-down experience.
As I moved through the crowd, stopping at tables, shaking hands, signing things thrust toward me from every direction, I thought about the couple and how they’d made their relationship work despite being in business together. They were inspirational in a sense given my current situation.
There was an ease to everything in Bellport I attributed to being surrounded by amazing people. From the staff to the players to the fans, I was happy to see them all enjoying themselves at this event.
Gillies was somewhere behind me making noise and a few of the other guys had gathered near the photo display along the far wall to give each other grief about their official headshots.
We’d had them done a week ago during one of the many long meeting days.
Though they’d shown us the images a couple days after, it still seemed to be a big topic for the guys.
Mine wasn’t the best photo I’d ever taken, but I wasn’t going to raise a stink. I got to wear the jersey for my dream team. Who cared if my smile was a touch crooked.
I caught Grizzly's eye from across the room and my entire body went on alert.
There was no turning off the Daddy part of me where my boy was concerned.
He was standing near the entrance talking to a woman I recognized as one of the team's brand partners.
He had his glasses on, a habit he still occasionally slipped up with.
He glanced over once, just briefly, and the corner of his mouth crept up. He’d spotted me watching him. I knew the look well.
As much as I wanted to go wrap him up in my arms, we’d agreed not to do so at team events. It was better for there to be some divide between the personal and professional. Plus, there was enough press here to cause a ruckus.
I turned back to the group nearest me and didn't let myself linger anymore. It would only take a few more minutes of staring for my cock to take notice. That would definitely attract attention. No need to traumatize kids because I can’t control my urges.
And just like that I was back in work mode. I bounced on my toes, my gaze scanning the crowd to see where I could be of the best help.
The press had been circling all evening, which was expected at things like this. More news coverage meant more exposure and possibly more donations. There were a few reporters I recognized from their time at our practices and a few I’d never seen before.
I didn't mind them or the cameras they toted around. I'd grown up under that kind of attention and made my peace with it ages ago. People wanted to invest in a player from all angles, which sometimes meant we had to put ourselves out there.
The only time I ever had issues with reporters was when they overstepped. I thought we’d be in the clear, but then one man decided to push my limits.
He came at me near the end, when the crowd had loosened and the kids had mostly been ushered toward the activity tables. Chin forward, body language confident, he extended a recorder out the second he reached me.
"Paxton Wells, great event tonight. How are you feeling about the season?"
I answered it the way I'd answered it a dozen times already tonight. "Excited. The team is strong. We’re ready to get the season going."
"You've settled into Bellport quickly from what people are saying."
"It's a welcoming city. Easy to settle into a place that wants you there," I replied.
He nodded, then opened his mouth and put his foot in there.
"There's been some talk—photos, mostly—of you and your sports agent, Grizzly. The two of you were holding hands at your draft announcement. You’ve been spotted around Bellport together more than a few times.
Can you speak to that at all? Is there something personal going on there, or is that strictly professional? "
The room didn't stop moving. It was only my breaths that froze.
Gillies was laughing at something behind me. A child somewhere to my left was explaining very seriously why her foam finger was better than her brother's. The music still echoed around the space with an upbeat tempo that definitely didn’t help my racing heart.
The question hadn't come with curiosity behind it. This guy was trying to make what I said next sound like a confession.
I held his gaze and let a beat pass. "Grizzly is important to me."
"So it is personal."
"I just said he was important to me."
"But the photos suggest—"
"What do the photos suggest?"
He paused at my interruption. "The optics of a player and his agent being that close, especially publicly, raises questions about professional boundaries. Wouldn't you say?"
There it was.
My spine straightened. What I wanted to say and what I would say were two very different things. Only one of them wouldn’t cause a shit ton of drama.
"I think people are allowed to care about each other," I said. "I don't think that requires a lot of analysis."
"Even when there's a professional relationship involved?"
"Relationships are complicated. People are complicated. I'm not going to reduce something that matters to me to fit into a mold you seem to think exists."
He opened his mouth for the follow-up and that was when Royce appeared at my left shoulder. I could see the smirk they wore from the corner of my eye.
"We don't judge couples who meet at work," Royce said, pleasant as anything, their eyes on the reporter with an expression that was technically a smile. Non-technically, it was a threat. "That would be a little hypocritical given our own history, wouldn't it, Kenneth?"
Kenneth, who had materialized just as smoothly on my other side, made a sound of quiet agreement before taking a sip from the drink in his hand.
The reporter blinked, opening his mouth as if to respond.
Royce continued as if they didn’t notice. "We're proud of this team. All of it. The roster, the staff, the people who showed up tonight. That's the story, if you're looking for one. Not a matter of someone’s personal life. Schedule an interview if you want a feature piece."
It wasn't a dismissal exactly. It was a door being closed with such perfect manners that the person on the other side of it didn't immediately realize they were no longer in the room.
He tried once more, focusing back on me. "Would you say then that you and Grizzly are—"
"Why do you even care?" Gillies stepped up beside Kenneth, soda in hand, expression genuinely baffled.
"Do you want to date Wells yourself? Because I can give you his schedule, but I have to warn you, he's not that interesting off the field. Dude is a homebody. He’s got great taste in movies though. Might be your thing."
The conversation died there. Anything else the reporter said would only dig him deeper into the hole of his own making.
I stood in the quiet aftermath of what had to be one of the best interceptions I’d ever witnessed. It sucked to make a football reference, but I’d fret over it later. I didn’t have a better way to describe the beauty of the moment.
Kenneth touched my arm briefly before he left. The gesture was encouraging. As if to say he had my back no matter what. Royce stepped around me, directly between the reporter and myself to get to their partner. The couple left without a glance back.
Gillies was already gone, absorbed back into the crowd as he worked the room. The man was an entertainer on every level. He probably had another group captivated with a joke or two.
The reporter sighed, then left me alone as he took off for the exit. I watched him leave with an immense sense of relief.
I let my eyes wander back to my boy where he was still propped up near the door. This time he wasn’t in conversation with anyone. His eyes were already on me.
How much of that had he seen? Was he the reason Kenneth and Royce showed up? I’d bet a lot of money the reporter had a habit of cornering people.
The privacy we'd kept carefully was thinner now than it had been an hour ago. And still, what I saw in his expression wasn’t panic.
The tightness across my shoulders released. I made my way over to him, positioning my body against the wall next to him. Close, though not nearly as close as I would have liked.
There’d be time for more later. Being close to him would hold me over until then.