Epilogue
Paxton
The season was moving along nicely. Between the early morning practices, the travel for games, and the constant go-go-go of it all, I felt like I had a good handle of things.
I was extremely thankful I’d wound up in Bellport. While I didn’t have anything to compare it to, my knowledge of the league confirmed my situation here was elite.
Not only did we have a supportive staff for the team, but we also had fans who would go to bat for us any chance they got. Those same fans respected our privacy as well. I didn’t get bombarded for autographs or pictures anytime I went out. For the first time in ages, I felt like a normal guy.
It was fucking wonderful.
There were other things that made Bellport feel like home as well.
I knew which coffee place had the best coffee for when I needed a pick-me-up away from home.
I knew the fastest route to the stadium, which came in handy all the times my boy distracted me.
I knew the names of the people on our street, which neighbors waved and which ones kept to themselves for the most part —though the second group had started opening up more as time went on.
Some mornings I woke up before he did and lay there in the dark thinking about our lives.
Mostly I thought about the video call that finally got things moving.
I’d long been obsessed with Grizzly Thorson before then.
But that call changed everything. He saw me for the first time, and according to how he tells it, he realized he was in trouble because of the instant attraction.
I always argued it wasn’t trouble so much as it was the start of our forever.
It was a Saturday in late October when I first noticed that Pops was being more reserved than usual.
Not in a concerning way. More like he had secrets he didn’t want me to know.
The man had always been social to a certain extent.
And with how much he liked to talk about his adventures, I was pretty well versed in the happenings of the older generations in Bellport.
Not that he was all that old. Forty-nine didn’t feel as ancient now as it did when I was a teenager.
I had a feeling the goalpost would keep shifting the higher my own age went.
That’s beside the point. Pops’s lack of sharing meant he’d found a group of people or a place he wanted to keep to himself.
While I definitely respected privacy, I also knew better than to let myself worry over this type of stuff.
He could be vague if he wanted, but I needed some kind of details about it all.
The man was constantly out and about. I’d try to stop by to see him whenever I was running errands or on my way home. Every single time I’d find the driveway empty and the house dark. If not for the garbage being taken out and the way he answered my texts like normal, I’d think he’d been kidnapped.
Despite my asking him what he’d been up to, the man was a fortress. He gave vague answers about friends and book club. He even claimed to be in a chess club, which was where my instinct kicked in.
He was up to something. And I had to figure out what.
The only way to get answers was to track the man down. Or maybe… I could wait him out a different way.
I was on the back porch with coffee when he came home on a Tuesday evening. The air had finally committed to something cooler, the particular relief of Louisiana fall that people who had lived through the summer appreciated.
Pops came through the back door, only to startle when he saw me leaning against the rail. His face twisted up for two seconds before he smoothed his expression.
"Nice night," he said as he moved up beside me.
"Mmhmm. Very nice. I’ve been enjoying it for a bit now."
He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he asked, "How's Grizzly?"
"Good. Auden has been a huge asset to the team. They’ve got a lot of potential athletes to sign. It’s been kind of chaotic, so he's got his notes spread across the whole kitchen table, and Wells is supervising. It’s adorable."
Pops smiled. "Good system."
"It works for them." I paused, then said, "Pops.”
"Paxton," he replied in the same tone.
"You've been away from home a lot lately.”
"I have."
“Any particular reason?”
"You remember," he said finally, "when you were maybe sixteen, and I had that terrible date with the woman from the school board?"
I remembered. She had shown up forty minutes late and spent most of dinner talking about a renovation project in a way that communicated she expected Pops to be fascinated by load-bearing walls. Pops had come home with the declaration he wasn’t going to date anymore.
"I recall said date.”
"I told myself I was done trying after that one. Not because of her specifically. Just because the whole enterprise of it felt—I don't know. Wrong timing. I felt like I was making a fool of myself."
"You weren't though."
"I was a little," he argued. "Anyway. I stopped. And then life did what it does and here we are years later. Moving to Bellport was meant to be a change. I didn’t expect it to go this far.”
“Go far how? What do you mean?”
"I met someone.” The words were plain, yet he spoke them as if a bomb were about to go off.
"Okay. That explains some things.”
He exhaled. "It wasn't planned. I wasn't looking. You know I wasn't looking, Paxton. I thought that part of my life was over. And then I met this person and it changed everything."
I was quiet for a moment. It wasn’t because his words upset me. More about how I needed to handle the next steps. I didn’t want him to think I was judging him. While this was a bit of a shock, I didn’t feel any anger. I was, however, very interested in the details.
"How long?" I asked, since it was the most obvious first question.
"A few months." He looked at me then, directly, for the first time in the conversation. "I wanted to be sure before I said anything. I didn't want to—I didn't want to make it a thing before I knew for sure. You know what I mean?"
"I do. It makes perfect sense."
"And I wasn't sure how you'd—" He stopped.
"Pops. I want you to be happy. That's the only thing I want. Whatever that looks like."
He pressed his lips together and looked away. I gave him the moment because he would have, and had, given me the same. This was the least I could do.
"This person," he said, "makes me feel like the lights came back on. Like I can see everything through a different lens."
The lights came back on.
I thought about what that meant. About the years after my mother died when Pops had moved through his days with love but without that bouncy energy he was known for. About the man who had done everything he could to keep me in the sport I loved, no matter the cost to him.
For a moment, it felt like my mother was with us. Like she was hovering nearby, a smile on her face, as she watched us talk about the changes in Pops’s life.
She probably found Pops’s hesitation amusing. I could remember her explaining love to me at a young age. She’d told me I could love whomever I wanted, no matter their gender. That if I found myself falling for more than one person and they consented to the relationship, then that was okay too.
"Tell me about this person," I said.
Pops's whole body changed. That light he’d mentioned before shone through in his eyes. It was amazing to see the transformation.
"Funny,” he said. “Genuinely funny in a way you rarely see these days. And thoughtful too. Notices things about people. Noticed me, which is kind of mind-blowing. It’s astounding to think I caught the attention of someone so wonderful.”
“They sound like a good fit for you.”
"We talk. For hours sometimes. I forget about everything else. I haven't lost track of time like that since—" He stopped.
Since your mother, I heard in the gap.
"I'm glad, Pops," I told him, voice steady so he believed me. "I mean it. I'm really glad."
"I'd like you to meet them. When the time is right. When it makes sense."
"Whenever you're ready. I’ll be there with a smile and zero judgement.”
He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Thanks for not making this complicated."
I shook my head. "You moved across the country for me. You packed our lives up, searched for a new place to live, drove it all down, unpacked it, and kept supporting me through it all. I have no reason to make things complicated. I only want to make sure you’re safe and happy. That’s it.”
He made a sound like he was fighting tears. Knowing my pops, it was highly likely. I didn’t call him out on it. This time was too serious for that.
We sat for another minute, letting the quiet flow around us. My curiosity reached a boiling point though, and it couldn’t be contained any longer. I had to know more.
"When do I get to meet your boo thang?" I asked, my eagerness coming through even though I said I’d be patient.
Pops's mouth curved. The full smile, the one I had known my whole life to mean he was undoubtedly happy. "Soon," he said.
"Give me more than soon. I can't wait to meet them," I said.
He looked at me, the smile still there. "You'll meet him soon enough.”