Immoral

by Nicole Dykes

  “I’m still sorry.”

  “Fine.” I pull him to me, my hand on the back of his neck. “We’re both sorry motherfuckers. But I love you. And all that matters now is that I’m never letting you go.”

  “Good.” He kisses me.

  “Let’s go get some coffee.”

  His eyebrow arches. “Coffee?”

  “Yup. It’s fucking cold outside, but the coffee is worth it.”

  He stands up, finding a shirt and tugging it on while I grab my tennis shoes. “You think Justin will be there?”

  I roll my eyes as we walk downstairs to grab our coats. “Be nice.”

  He doesn’t agree, of course, and when we arrive at the coffee shop, mischief is written all over his beautiful face. This was probably a bad idea. And not because I’m worried about the photographers that are somehow already here when we walk inside.

  No, it’s because for a moment, I forgot that Grady is one seriously jealous man. Not gonna lie, I don’t hate it. We walk up to the counter, and his eyes are locked on me just as Justin approaches with a happy grin. “Ryan Bailey! You’re here.” Pouting playfully, he adds, “But I heard you’re leaving us.”

  Grady wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him tightly. I know if I shoved him away right now, he wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t do that. Instead, I lean in. “I am.”

  Justin’s eyes track our close proximity, but he says nothing. “Your usual?” I nod, and he looks to Grady. “And what can I get you?”

  “Well,” he drawls. Oh boy. “You know I recently tried new things and found I love it. So, I’ll take that sugary drink you made last time. Nothing wrong with experimenting, Justin. But there’s nothing wrong with sticking to what you love either.”

  A smile plays on my lips as well as Justin’s as he nods and gets to work. I lean into Grady’s ear. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I’m your idiot.” He doesn’t whisper it, and I don’t tense up at the possibility of anyone hearing.

  Rumors are going to spread fast, and most of them will be true.

  But not one part of me can find it in myself to give a fuck.

  He’s my idiot alright.

  “Mr. Bell, one question please!” I look over at the kid outside the arena in downtown Denver and take pity on him. He looks fresh out of college—maybe. Hell, he may still be in school and probably dying to get an exclusive interview.

  Luckily, I have Waylon right here with me in case I get in a jam. Not that Ryan and I have been shy about our relationship.

  He went on tour with me for a month before he had to report to training camp last week, and we didn’t bother to hide a goddamn thing.

  Waylon gives me a quick nod of permission, and I approach the kid instead of going inside. “No problem, but I needed to be at sound check ten minutes ago.”

  The guy, who’s small in stature and honestly kind of cute with his wide eyes behind thick black-framed glasses, grabs his iPhone excitedly. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll only be a minute. This is for my followers. And I know they love you just as much as I do. Well, maybe.”

  He grins, and I laugh. “Sounds good.”

  He quickly pulls up an Instagram Live feed and does an amazingly fast introduction where I don’t catch every word but can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm.

  “Okay, so like I said, I have Grady Bell here, outside the arena.” He points the camera at me. “I’m assuming you’re here for the concert tonight.”

  I beam into the camera, putting on my best show, preferring these impromptu interviews far more than the scheduled ones I typically avoid. “I suppose that’s why I’m here. I hear the band is pretty good.”

  The kid laughs, but I can tell it’s real and not forced for his followers on Insta. “So, we won’t keep you long, but I just wanted to say you’re a true inspiration. Singing songs that really speak to the heart and then following your heart. Doing what you want.”

  He doesn’t specifically say anything about my relationship with Ryan, and fuck if I don’t want to stake my claim on him right now, where I know it’ll eventually be shared all over. But I can’t just yet. I want Ry to get settled into his new role in LA first.

  “I appreciate that. Music has a way of saying things we can’t always get out when we’re just talking.”

  “Oh, I agree. Your music saved me. I talk about it all the time.”

  I wonder what exactly that means and pause, seeing the tear sliding down his cheek as he wipes it away. I pull him into a quick side hug. “I’m happy to hear that. You’re a good person. You deserve all good things. I can feel it.”

  He smiles brightly, standing a little taller, and I know the kid isn’t here for a hard-hitting interview. He’s actually a fan.

  “I’m really sorry, but I actually am late.”

  “No problem. I just wanted to say that and to ask if you’re going to do another tour next year. We need your music.”

  I turn to Waylon, who doesn’t offer an answer. I’ve pretty much already told him I’m taking time off after this tour, but it’s not public knowledge yet. And I know it will be a headache for Waylon if it is. “You know I never say never.” I wink at the camera, and the kid laughs.

  “Not exactly an answer, but we’ll take it. Thanks so much, Grady Bell!”

  I laugh at the use of my whole name, and we say a quick goodbye to his followers before he logs off and then shakes my hand excitedly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ve been a huge fan for so long, and I wasn’t bullshitting when I said you saved me.”

  “Thank you for not bringing up certain things.” I’m careful, but he knows what I mean.

  He shrugs. “I’m never going to out anyone. That’s a shitty move. I mean, I pretty much came out as soon as I was out of the womb, but it doesn’t matter. Until you’re ready to share that—if you ever are—it’s no one’s business.”

  I wink at him and start toward the door, but then turn toward him. “Hey, kid. What’s your name?”

  “Dawson.” He cringes. “My mom was a big fan of that Creek show.”

  I laugh at that. “Okay, um.” I can’t shake my smile. “When we’re ready, I’d love to give you the exclusive.”

  “Really?” He brightens up.

  I nod toward Waylon. “Can you get his info?”

  Waylon is already at his side. “On it. Now, go.”

  I laugh because he’s a manager first. “Thanks.” I turn to Dawson. “We’ll talk soon.”

  He’s giddy, and I’m grinning from ear-to-ear as I walk into sound check.

  We aren’t totally out yet, but it’s coming, and I have a good feeling about this kid.

  Hopefully, Ry will be on the same page. Though I think we’ll wait till he’s done with baseball if that’s the way he wants it. Neither of us is interested in making a great big gay statement. No one has to come out and say they’re straight, so fuck ’em.

  But I do have a good feeling about the kid.

  Still, we’re going to do it our way and at our time.

  I sit on the bench in the locker room as Bennett ties the laces on his cleats. Most of the guys have filtered out of the locker room already, and I try like hell not to let my nerves get to me. Most of my new teammates seem to have accepted Bennet and me with open arms, but I’m still wary.

  It feels like the first day of school. We both know we have something to prove tonight. Prove to the fans and the team we’re worth every penny.

  But still, Bennett and I are fucking solid. Training went smoothly, and we’re ready for this shit.

  “Okay, I have to ask you . . .” I look over at Bennett expectantly. “The rumors?”

  I almost laugh but don’t. He hasn’t asked me all spring. But now he’s going to? Okay. “What rumors?”

  He shoves my shoulder. “Don’t be an asshole. Are they true?”

  He doesn’t look disgusted or even nervous about my answer. He already knows but wants it confirmed. It’s the worst-kept secret nowadays.

  Grady
and I don’t hide. We go where we want when we want, but still we’ve avoided any actual straight-forward questions, and we haven’t put out a statement. It isn’t our style, and honestly, it isn’t going to happen.

  At least not a professionally worded, well thought-out Tweet.

  “I’m gay.”

  He nods, standing up and walking toward the door. “Okay, then.”

  “What the fuck?” I stand up, smiling and walk to him. “That’s it? No questions?”

  “What, like who’s the pitcher and who’s the catcher?”

  I roll my eyes and shove him. He laughs. “No, asshole.”

  “You really want to talk about assholes?” He cocks his head to the side, and I grab the handle to the door.

  “Nevermind. You really are a shithead.”

  He stops me from leaving. “You’re the shithead. You could have told me. It’s not like I didn’t suspect . . . maybe.”

  Not surprised. “You never said anything.”

  He shrugs. “It’s not like it mattered, but you could have told me.”

  I do feel shitty for keeping it a secret all this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put that burden on you. Keeping a secret like that doesn’t feel good for anyone.”

  “I’m sorry you had to.” He raises an eyebrow. “But not anymore?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, it’s nobody’s business who I fuck . . .”

  “That being Grady Bell.”

  “Who knew you were such a fucking gossip queen?”

  He laughs, pulling the door open so we can walk out. The game is starting soon. “No more secrets, dickhead. I mean it. I’m happy for you, even if my wife is pretty damn disappointed Grady is off the market.”

  “Did you hear what you just said? She’s your wife.”

  He laughs easily, shrugging it off with confidence and playfulness. “Eh, I know I’m her second choice. I’ve dealt with it, Ry.”

  I laugh at his joke because that woman is head over heels for him, crush on my man or not. “Still, I hope we’ll still get invites to your famous cookouts.”

  He nudges my shoulder. “Of course, you will. Just gotta keep an eye on our significant others.”

  I can hear the crowd already as we walk out to the field. God, I love that sound. Not quite as much as Grady singing or his laugh . . . but it’s right up there with my favorite sounds.

  “Let’s go show these motherfuckers how we do it,” I say as we jog out to warm up.

  Who knew I could have everything I want? Not me. But I’ll fucking take it.

  It’s the last concert of this tour and my last one for a while, although not many people know that yet. Ryan tried to fight with me about it, but I’m taking a couple of years off. I’m more than okay with that. It’ll give me time to write new songs and just be with him.

  This way, when I want to, I can travel with him.

  I’m happy. Holy fuck, am I happy. It’s the best time of my life, and I’m not going to squander it.

  I stroke the dark black facial hair I’ve grown out on tour. I’m not sure whether I’m going to keep it, but Ry doesn’t seem to mind, so maybe I will. I try to ignore the slight tremor in my hand as I address the crowd from my position at center stage. “Well hello, Los Angeles! Man, it’s good to be home!”

  The crowd shouts happily. I do consider this my home, despite being from Kansas. It’s where I’ve begun to build my life with Ryan. It’s where our house is, where we’ll live together when we aren’t traveling. And until we both officially retire and buy that private island somewhere—yeah, I doubt it will happen, but never say never—this is our home.

  The baseball team here has more than embraced Ryan, and we still don’t hide when we go out in public. Our secret is a poorly kept one, and the city seems to be okay with it.

  And for the record—if they weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. I haven’t felt this free or this happy in a really long time, and nothing will ruin it. Nothing.

  “As you all know, this is my last show for a while.” I’m met with the normal boos as expected, but when I look backstage and see Ry’s wicked smile, I can’t help but match his energy as I look out at the crowd. “I know, I know. But you guys want more songs, right?” Cheering. But it’s woeful. “Okay. So I can guarantee you tonight will be the best damn show you’ve ever seen!”

  The crowd roars, and I look over at Ryan, who’s standing next to Waylon and Dawson. Dawson has been a frequent visitor at our house, along with Waylon, who assures me there’s nothing going on, that he’s just taken the kid under his wing. I don’t push because, honestly, I’m not sure if anything is going on.

  All I know is I made sure Dawson was here tonight and that he was live-streaming the beginning of this concert.

  Because it’s going to be something to see.

  Okay, Bell, you can do this. Don’t be a pussy. “So, some of you may or may not know that I’ve been seen around town a hell of a lot with a special person. My best friend.” Ry cocks his head to the side as I look at him but keep my body toward the crowd. “Now, I’m not going to embarrass him and make him come out here with me.” I face the crowd now, smiling. “But I want everyone to know just how much he means to me.”

  The crowd goes wild, and I mean, they’re losing their shit. When I turn to see what has them so riled up, I see Ryan approaching me, walking with that strong, confident glide in my direction until he stops only a foot from me, stealing my mic. “I don’t embarrass easily.”

  I laugh because that’s true. Ry is stone-cold most of the time. People can’t read him. I take the microphone back. “Ah, true. But I bet I could make you blush.”

  He gives me a don’t you dare look, and I laugh. The crowd hoots and hollers as my heart punches rapidly in my chest.

  “So, the thing about my best friend, the man I’ve known nearly my entire life is that he loves hard. Fiercely. Particularly. First baseball . . .” I grin at him. “And then me.”

  He rolls his eyes, leaning into the mic. “I think that’s the wrong order.”

  And again, the crowd loses it. And it’s a big, big audience, so it’s loud. “The thing about me is—I sing about love and how it tears you apart. I wasn’t sure I believed in it because I saw too much hate, but Ry, he makes me believe. In everything.”

  A collective “aw” comes from the crowd. Then I drop to one knee, and I think my eardrums might explode from the roar of the crowd, but all I can do is look up at Ry as I take his hand in mine. “I know we said no big announcements. No Tweets.”

  “Right.” Ry wants to be mad. I can see it, but I can also see he’s not, not even a little. He looks almost childlike with that grin on his face. “But a crowded arena with our friend Dawson live-streaming?”

  “Go big or go home, right, Bailey?”

  He chuckles, “Get on with it.”

  “Marry me.” Not a question. It’s a demand because it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Yes. I’ll marry you.” Yeah, I think my ears are bleeding. I didn’t think this through because I’ve never heard a crowd so frenzied as when he raises me up to him and pulls me in for a kiss. “I love you, you fucking asshole.”

  “You love my asshole?” He rolls my eyes and covers the mic with his hand. “I love you too.”

  When he releases me, we still hug our bodies close. I look over at Dawson, who’s tearing up as he tells the world that Ryan Bailey is mine.

  Officially.

  After that kind of proposal, who wouldn’t be on a high? After the concert, we came home, fucked, talked for a bit, had champagne, fucked again, and then passed out. And now, we’re in our bed the next morning, and I can’t stop smiling.

  An affliction I’m not used to but I like. “So, when do you want to do this?”

  “I’m thinking right after you win the World Series for the second time.”

  I laugh because the team has improved, but we aren’t going to the World Series this year. Maybe next year though. “Or after the regular seaso
n ends.”

  He pulls me in for a kiss. “Or right fucking now. I can’t wait.”

  I laugh against his lips. “Always 100 percent all-in, aren’t you?”

  “When it comes to you, yeah.”

  I know. I groan when my phone rings because the only person I want to talk to is right here, but then I groan again when I see it’s a video call from my mom. “Ugh. No.”

  “We have to face them sometime. I’m sure the news is out everywhere.”

  “I figured it would be Jenny.”

  He laughs at that like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Are you fucking kidding me? I asked her for your hand in marriage before I got down on one knee. I don’t have a death wish.”

  My eyes widen. “You asked Jenny?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  I can’t hold back the bark of laughter and shake my head. “She has you trained.”

  “That makes two of us.” I don’t argue because she’s helped so damn much with the new contract and fielding questions we weren’t ready to answer yet. I’m glad he let her know.

  He hits answer on my phone, and I glare at him before my mom’s face pops up on my phone. I see my dad right next to her. “Ryan.” She sounds distraught. Just fucking great.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  Her eyes dart next to me to where Grady is sitting. We’re both bare chested, and there’s no hiding the fact that we’re in bed together, not that I would.

  “Grady.” She sounds breathless. “Is it true?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to ask for Ry’s hand.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” my mother cuts him off quickly, starting to cry, and I recoil, already wanting to hang up. I love my parents. I do. I’m grateful for all the things they sacrificed for me, but I don’t want anything tarnishing my happiness with Grady.

  “No, it’s not. I love Ryan. Nothing about this is a joke. We’re getting married.”

  She gapes at Grady. “But you’re straight.”

  Grady laughs easily, taking the phone casually from my shaking hand. “Apparently I’m not.”