“My dad.” The word contains the weight of the world.
“You don’t get along with him?”
“I did. Incredibly well. For a long time. When I was really young, he was my hero.” Shaking his head, Declan blows out a long breath. “He was a ballplayer. A Minor Leaguer for a couple of years. A coach. But things changed . . .”
He’s quiet for a bit, contemplative. I don’t push. I don’t know how to ask or if I should.
“He left when I was at the end of middle school. And honestly, Grant, it was for the best.”
It’s as if Declan just skipped a period of his life in that pause. Maybe that’s the span he wanted to escape from. “Did you see him again?”
“Sometimes. He would show up now and then. He lives in Oakland now, and he still gets in touch when it’s convenient for him, usually to ask for stuff. Know what I mean?”
Do I ever. “Sounds a bit like my mom. She just told my grandpa this week that she wants to come to my first Major League game, assuming I make the roster. She never went to a single one in the minors. My dad is just the same. So yeah, I know what you mean.”
He settles back into his pillow, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “It sucks, right? When I was younger, I wished I could fly away from it all sometimes.”
A few Declan puzzle pieces snap into place. “That’s why you like birds,” I say.
Shifting back to his side, he taps my temple, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re too observant for your own good,” he says and yawns. “Damn, I’m tired. That was a day.”
A second later, he gets up, pulls on his shorts, and pads to the door.
My chest tightens.
Did I say the wrong thing? Did I push too hard? It didn’t even feel like I was pushing, but now he’s staring through the peephole, his attention elsewhere.
“Crap. Some of the guys are wandering down the hall.”
My stomach twists, and I swing my legs out of bed, grabbing my shorts, so I feel less . . . well, naked. “Are they coming to my room?”
Declan shakes his head but walks back to the bed. “No. They’re just going by.” He kicks off his shoes, shucks his shorts, and stares at the king-size mattress. His eyes flicker with vulnerability. His voice dips to a gentle tone. “You mind if I crash here for a bit?”
I half want to say, “Weren’t you just about to leave? Wouldn’t you rather go?”
“Of course.” I don’t mind at all if he crashes, but I’m not ready to unpack why it doesn’t bother me.
“I’ll set my alarm. We’re going to work out, right?” His voice wavers the tiniest bit at the end like he really wants me to say yes to a workout. Like he needs reassurance that tomorrow we’re doing the same thing we did before we messed around.
I smile. “Yeah, we are.”
“Good,” Declan says.
I figure he’ll close his eyes, turn the other way and crash. But instead, he cups my cheek, brings his lips to mine, and whispers a kiss across them.
I shiver down to my toes.
His kisses are electric—even the soft, sweet ones.
“Mmm. Your lips taste so damn good, rookie,” he says. “I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed kissing as much as I do with you.”
I close my eyes so he can’t see how happy those words make me, and I sink into the softest, sweetest goodnight kiss I’ve ever had.
But then, I have nothing to compare it to—a goodnight kiss is another first. I let myself enjoy it for several delirious seconds that spill into a minute, maybe more.
Soon, Declan breaks the kiss, glides a hand softly down my chest, and crashes into sleep.
I don’t.
My brain is a maze, and I’m trying to find my way through twists and turns, past dead-ends, around bizarre angles. I’m trying to navigate all this newness.
A man in my bed.
My teammate asleep next to me.
My first sexual encounter like that. My first, too, where we were both that close, touching each other at the same time, coming at the same time, kissing after coming.
I run my finger over my bottom lip, replaying tonight, his body on mine, the heat between us.
I return too, to our kisses. I’ve never kissed anyone that much.
I drag a hand through my hair. I need to stop thinking about how good those kisses are.
He snores slightly, scoots closer, and drapes an arm across my chest with a soft murmur. I both hate and love how good that makes me feel. How my chest goes all flippity-flop.
But mostly, I love it, and I fall asleep just like that, with his arm around me.
When I wake, Declan is gone, but there’s a note from him on my phone.