Playing Ball

by Kerry Freeman

  Ray’s scowl deepened. “I’m glad your father isn’t here to see this.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Toby leaned forward, hands on the desk. “I’d hate to see him figure out exactly how much of a bigot his father is.”

  Ray jumped to his feet. “Now you listen here,” he growled. “I set up a press conference tomorrow at one. You will give a prepared statement denying everything you’ve been accused of, and then you’ll sign a nondisclosure agreement about all of this. If you don’t, I’ll write you out of my will. I will get your trust fund overturned. I already have my lawyers working on it. I swear, you will never own a single piece of this ball club if I have anything to say about it.”

  Toby leaned back, stunned that his own grandfather would seriously try to cut him out so completely. His father had brought him up with baseball, had woven the ball club so completely into his genes that Toby wasn’t at all sure he’d know what to do with himself without it. He didn’t have a clue if Ray could actually do anything about the portion of the team he was slated to own in a few more days, but the idea that his grandfather could be so vindictive as to take that away from him? A baseball to the head might have been less painful.

  “Some grandfather you are,” he spat. “Hating your own grandson so much that you’d take away the one thing that’s always been a part of his life. Well, good luck with that.” He nodded and rapped his knuckles on the gleaming wood surface between them. “I’m sure this desk will take care of you when you’re too old to do it for yourself.”

  He spun on his heel, ignoring his grandfather’s attempts to call him back. Let him think what he wanted. Toby had plans of his own.

  THE pressroom hummed with conversation, but Toby tried to ignore the noise. Dexter, the team’s PR director, stood next to him behind the curtain that hung at the back of the podium where players and coaches sat for organized press conferences. Toby’d never had a turn there, but he was about to find out how it felt.

  Toby hadn’t slept much more the night before than he had Sunday night. After his disastrous meeting with his grandfather, he’d visited Caleb, who’d gotten the full story out of him and then urged him to go see his own lawyer, who’d been managing his parents’ estate and his trust for nearly ten years, before he did anything rash. Toby had managed to get an appointment early that morning, and between that and the hours of conversation with Caleb the day before, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

  Steeling himself, Toby nodded when Dexter’s assistant asked if they were ready, and he followed Dexter out to the table. He sat down behind the microphone and looked up, finding his grandfather where he sat on the front row, looking dire. Just behind him sat Matt Sussman, though, and he gave Toby a smile.

  “Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen,” Dexter began. “Toby Macmillan is here to read a statement.”

  It wasn’t precisely true, and Toby had warned Dexter of that, though he hadn’t given him details. When Dexter turned his head toward Toby, Toby took a deep breath and started.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. “I have a prepared statement here—that I’m not going to read.”

  Ray Macmillan’s eyes widened, but before he could react further, Toby went on. “My name is Toby Macmillan, and I am a gay man.”

  The murmurs he expected started among the crowd, but he ignored them, continuing to stare down his grandfather. “I’m making this announcement not because I think it matters, but because it shouldn’t. My private life should stay private, but it doesn’t always work that way. Coming out is a personal, private decision, but making an announcement in public like this isn’t something you do for yourself. It’s something you do for others.”

  He finally broke eye contact with his grandfather and looked around at the other faces in the room. “I want to be clear. This changes nothing about me or who I am. I’ve been working with this team since I was fifteen, and the only thing different now is that I’m almost twenty-one.”

  He saw Barry then, standing near the back wall, his face reddening, though Toby had no idea if he was embarrassed, angry, or what. He also didn’t care. “It’s important to note,” Toby said, holding Barry’s gaze, “that Major League Baseball, and the Atlanta Braves specifically, have policies against discrimination on any basis, including sexual orientation. These policies apply not only to the front office but on every level of the organization, top to bottom. And that includes the ballplayers.”

  Toby looked down at his hands and unfolded the piece of paper he still held. “On that note, I do have a prepared statement to read. This is on behalf of Caleb Browning.”

  He knew what the statement said, but he kept his eyes on the paper as he read it anyway. “Caleb says: ‘In 1947, Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s color line when he debuted with the Brooklyn Dodgers of the National League. I know I’m not the first gay man to play in the majors, and I certainly have no illusions that I am, or ever could be, a fraction of the player that Robinson was. But if by breaking this barrier, if by coming out openly, I can help other players like me even a fraction as much as he did, then it’s worth whatever consequences I might face.’”

  Toby paused for a long moment and then looked up at the crowd in front of him. “Caleb Browning has spent his entire professional baseball career with the Atlanta ball club. He was thrilled to finally join the Braves at the All-Star break. A few days ago, he suffered what could easily have been a career-ending injury on the field. It would be shameful for his career to suffer because of his choice to be honest about his sexuality.”

  Toby leaned forward, speaking directly into the microphone. “In closing, let me be very clear. If I have anything to say about it, this ball club will not tolerate discrimination of any kind. Any employee who has a problem with that is free to seek employment elsewhere.” He met his grandfather’s gaze and, to his surprise, saw a glimmer of respect there, among the expected shock and anger.

  Toby looked around the room again. “I will not be taking questions at this time. Assistant team trainer Marty Boynton will be available shortly for questions about Caleb’s injuries and projected recovery. Thank you for your attention.”

  Toby pushed to his feet, ignored the shouted questions, and walked away from the table and out the door, for once in his life feeling completely at ease in his skin.

  No matter what happened next, he knew he’d done the right thing.

  TOBY knocked on the side door to the hospital Otis had tipped him off about and smiled at Otis when he opened it a few second later. “Thanks, man.”

  Otis grinned and held up one fist for Toby to bump. “No prob. Saw the press thing. You did good.”

  Toby shrugged and bumped Otis’s fist. “Did what I needed to do.”

  Otis nodded. “Now go see about your boy.”

  CALEB was dressed and ready to go when Toby gave a knock out of deference and pushed into his room. “Oh, thank God,” Caleb said the second he saw Toby. “Come over here and let me give you the biggest hug and kiss ever, and then get me the hell out of here!”

  Toby had to laugh even as he obeyed. Caleb pulled him in tight, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and sliding the other around his waist, and kissed him, his mouth minty fresh. Caleb smelled clean and right, even through the antiseptic scent that lingered after any hospital stay, and Toby would have been content to stay right there.

  But Caleb was finally going home, and the sooner Toby could get him there, the better.

  Full of reluctance, Toby drew away. “Are you all checked out?”

  “Yep.” Caleb pushed to his feet, and Toby reached for his hand without even thinking about it. Caleb meshed his long fingers with Toby’s immediately, as if they’d been holding hands for years instead of for the first time, and that little something in Toby’s chest turned over again.

  God, I am falling in love with him. Even though it had been only a couple of weeks, the feeling hit him hard, and he didn’t allow himself to fight it. He squeezed Caleb’s hand and reache
d over to pick up the duffel bag sitting on the bed.

  “Let’s get you home.”

  OTIS pushed Caleb downstairs in the hospital-required wheelchair, but he’d scouted things out in advance and knew a couple of news teams waited outside to pounce when they emerged, so he let them out the same side door as before. Even with the subterfuge, Toby breathed easier once they were in his car and headed out of the parking lot. He had no idea whether they’d encounter media at Caleb’s apartment, but he guessed that would probably be a safer bet than his own place. Caleb hadn’t been living there long, so maybe the press hadn’t found it yet.

  Things looked promising when they pulled up to the gates—nothing resembling a news van in sight—and soon they were climbing the flight of stairs to Caleb’s place. Toby kept his hands off Caleb, not because he was worried about being seen but because he didn’t want to give the impression that he thought Caleb couldn’t make it on his own. Caleb had been checked, rechecked, and given every all clear in the books, with just fading bruises and prescription painkillers to show for his troubles. He’d be off the field for a little while yet, but daily life he could handle just fine.

  Toby still carried his bag for him, though. And Caleb, he noted, hadn’t protested.

  Caleb unlocked the door and pushed it open. He shot Toby a wry grin. “I guess it’s not going to feel much like home,” he noted, “considering I’ve only spent about a half-dozen nights here.”

  Toby laughed. “Well, it’s a definite improvement over a hospital room, that’s for sure.”

  Caleb chuckled in agreement and walked inside. Toby followed closely behind and shut the door behind them. Caleb dropped his keys on the breakfast bar, kicked off his sneakers, and kept walking, straight into the bedroom. Toby hung back, unsure whether he should follow, but in another few moments, Caleb stuck his head back out.

  “I’m going to scrub the hospital off me.” He let his gaze wander Toby’s body, so much like a caress that Toby almost felt it. “Want to wash my back?”

  Toby’s mouth stretched into a grin, even as he dropped the duffel bag and went after his boyfriend. When he got to the bathroom, Caleb had his shirt and shorts unbuttoned and was bent over, turning on the water. Not about to miss that opportunity, Toby walked up right behind him, cupped Caleb’s hips with his hands, and pressed his crotch, and his rapidly hardening cock, into the valley between Caleb’s cheeks.

  “Shit!” Caleb jumped and then moaned as Toby rubbed harder against him. “Fuck. Toby.”

  Toby bent over Caleb’s back so he could lick his way up his neck to bite his earlobe. “Missed you,” he murmured. The shiver that ran through Caleb’s body sent Toby’s heart rate galloping.

  Caleb groaned. “I want this”—he rubbed his ass against Toby’s crotch—“so fucking much.” He turned his head and kissed Toby’s cheek, his lips soft and warm. “But let me wash the antiseptic smell off first? I don’t want us both to stink of it.”

  “You smell like heaven,” Toby replied. He took a step back and away and attacked his clothes. “But I get it. Get your clothes off, and we’ll take care of that fast.”

  Clothes discarded and water temperature adjusted, they stepped into the tub, and Caleb moved immediately under the spray. Toby followed, reaching for the tiny bar of soap sitting on the corner shelf. He laughed as he reached forward to wet it in the water and started working up a lather. “Did you steal the soap from the Hyatt?”

  Caleb turned his head, and Toby saw he was blushing. “I haven’t exactly had much time to shop since I got here, and I left mine in Pearl.”

  Toby moved in even closer and ran both hands across Caleb’s chest, rubbing the soap across his skin. “You know I’m just teasing you. I like this stuff, though. Smells like you.”

  Toby felt Caleb’s chuckle under his fingers. “I smell like it,” he pointed out. “Especially with you rubbing it all over me.”

  Toby grinned against Caleb’s shoulder. “Not all over. Not yet, anyway.” He let one hand drift lower, working suds into the hair below Caleb’s navel, and Caleb shivered again and leaned back into Toby’s body. Toby stopped any pretense of washing him and just held him there, turning his face into the side of Caleb’s neck.

  “You scared me,” he whispered. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

  Caleb pushed away, making Toby’s heart jerk in his chest, but he only turned around and cupped Toby’s face in both hands. “I’m fine.” His voice was low but strong. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

  Toby ran his fingers oh so lightly over the side of Caleb’s beautiful face, now marred with bruises. “You better not,” he said. “I’m kind of getting used to having you around.”

  Caleb smiled. “It’s not like I haven’t been hit by pitches before. Hell, from behind the plate more than at it. They don’t call catcher’s gear the ‘tools of ignorance’ for nothing. We’re sitting ducks.”

  “But a batter doesn’t have a catcher’s mask.”

  “Kind of hard to see the pitcher that way.”

  Before Toby could reply, Caleb bent to kiss him, and Toby could only open his mouth and slide his tongue out to tangle with Caleb’s. The risks came with the game, he knew. What had happened to Caleb was a one in a million shot, and odds were extremely low that it would ever happen again.

  Didn’t mean Toby would stop worrying, but he’d have to learn to live with that.

  Caleb’s lips moved away, sliding across Toby’s cheek to his ear. “Let’s get showered,” he rasped. “Because I think we’re gonna need to be lying down for me to do what I want to do to you.”

  Toby’s whole body tightened at Caleb’s words, and he groaned, the low sound reverberating off the tile. He forced himself to take a step away from Caleb’s warm, wet body, reached for the sliver of soap again, and worked up new lather. He tried to keep his touch impersonal, efficient, but he failed miserably. Caleb’s skin just felt too good under his fingertips, and he lingered much too long on some of his favorite spots.

  By the time they were both washed and rinsed off, they could barely move without bumping into each other’s hard cocks. Caleb grinned down at Toby and shifted his hips back and forth, letting their dicks bounce across each other as if jousting. Toby laughed and grabbed Caleb’s shaft to give it a squeeze. “Trying to start a fire?”

  Caleb hissed and blinked. “Think we already have.”

  Toby brushed a quick kiss over Caleb’s mouth but didn’t release his grip, even as he bent forward to turn off the water and then pushed the shower curtain aside. Caleb followed him out of the tub and reached to snag the towel off the bar, then used it to dry off the worst of the wetness while Toby continued to tease his cock. Toby leaned forward to suck droplets off Caleb’s nipples, and Caleb let out a sound between a whimper and a whine.

  “You’re killin’ me,” he said, and Toby looked up at him from under his lashes as he closed his lips around Caleb’s right nipple. Caleb jerked all over. “Jesus,” he rasped out. “Bed. Now. Please.”

  Toby pulled his mouth away but not his hand, using it to pull Caleb toward the bedroom. Caleb laughed roughly. “Leading me around by my dick?”

  Toby ran his tongue all the way around his own lips before he answered. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

  Caleb grunted, and then he pounced. He grabbed Toby with both arms, trapping Toby’s hand right where it was, and fell onto the bed, dragging Toby down and under him. He came up breathing hard but lying full-length on top, and Toby had absolutely no complaints about his position.

  Caleb brought his hand up to push the still wet hair back from Toby’s forehead. “Want you,” he said, and then he kissed Toby so tenderly and deeply that it simultaneously melted Toby’s heart and stiffened his dick. God, Caleb could kiss. Toby could stay right there and just kiss Caleb forever and be satisfied.

  But there was so much more they could be doing.

  Toby wrapped his legs around Caleb’s and used the leverage to push his pelvis against Caleb’s, rubbin
g their cocks together between their bodies. Caleb groaned into their kiss and pushed back, setting up a give-and-take movement that rocked them closer and closer to orgasm. Toby raked his fingernails down Caleb’s back, probably leaving red marks behind, but he didn’t care. He just wanted more of Caleb against him, around him. Inside him.

  “Can’t wait.” Caleb murmured the words against Toby’s mouth and dove back into their kiss, even as he maneuvered them to the side so he could work a hand in between them. He caught their cocks together, the warmth and pressure of his fingers perfect, and Toby gasped against Caleb’s mouth.

  “Fuck,” he breathed out. “Caleb.”

  Caleb made a sound in his throat and plunged his tongue into Toby’s mouth, and Toby opened wide to let him in. He got a handful of Caleb’s hair and a handful of his ass and rode it out, letting Caleb carry them to the edge and then throw them right over.

  They came down together, panting, skin flushed and sweaty, their mixed cum pooled on Toby’s stomach. Toby floated on a wave of sensation, residual shockwaves zapping through him, feeling the warmth of Caleb’s breath against the side of his face. Caleb tightened his arm around him where he still held him close, and Toby’s heart did that little flip again.

  I am so far gone it’s not even funny. Ironically, the thought made him snicker

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing.” Toby pressed a kiss against Caleb’s temple, the closest part of him he could reach. “Just rest. We’ll get cleaned up in a bit.”

  GOD, I hate this.

  Toby stopped outside his grandfather’s office and gave a cursory knock on the frame before stepping into the open doorway. “You asked to see me?”

  “I did.” Ray Macmillan sat behind the desk, just as he had two days earlier, but the look on his face was about a millions shades less dire. He lifted his chin in the direction of the chair nearest Toby. “Have a seat.”