“Nope.” Tucker thought back. “Not that I can ever recall. Guys were friends. Teammates. Acquaintances. Even rivals for the same girl. Yeah, I noticed if they were in shape or the clothes they wore or car they drove. That kind of stuff. But nothing that made me sit up and pant like a dog in heat.”
Wiley chuckled.
Ram smiled with amusement. “It happens like that sometimes.”
“Like what?” Tucker sat forward and folded his hands together.
“That just any man won’t do. You’re bi deep down, but only one man will bring that side out and into the open.” Ram scratched his chin.
“I’m still struggling with that,” Tucker admitted.
“Listen. Trying to deny being bisexual is like trying to reject the animal part of you. As kids we had to go through all those growing pains with learning how to work with our inner beast instead of against him. Two halves of the same whole. You can’t have one without the other. It’s just who you are,” Ram advised. “There are rewards for accepting who you are. You already have them with being a shifter. You’ll find more when you accept being bisexual.”
“I’m getting there.” Tucker knew Ram spoke the truth. The facts didn’t lie. Unfortunately, his mind seemingly could lust after Dixon even though he still couldn’t quite label and organize this new development in the same head. He forced himself back on topic. “So, you’re saying that Dixon is that guy?”
“Ever heard of ‘gay for you’?” Wiley asked.
“Nope.”
Wiley blinked. “Where have you been, buddy?”
“Working my ass off on the baseball diamond? And chasing girls in between.” Tucker didn’t realize he’d spoken the last part out loud until Ram responded.
“You did that, all right. Never enough women to satisfy you.” Ram tilted his head and appraised Tucker for a long moment. “Ever wonder why you never settled down with them? Or married one of them?”
Tucker dropped his gaze to the carpet. “I never wanted commitment. They wanted me to scratch their itch. I wanted the same. That’s the way it was.” He peered up at Ram. “You think there’s more to it than that?”
Ram shrugged. “Could be.”
“That maybe I didn’t want to settle down with them because they were just not the one, they weren’t even of the correct sex?” The idea took hold.
“I’d still say Dixon is the key. You just said you’d never looked at another man until him.” Wiley stretched his long legs in front of him.
“Right,” Ram answered. “I think we’re back to the ‘gay for you’ idea.”
Tucker caught their drift. “You think that I’m not happy with women, but never looked at men until Dixon. I might never want another man either.”
“Bingo. Something is special about Dixon. He’s the only man you wanted. Still want, if I’m not mistaken,” Wiley said.
Tucker didn’t bother to answer. With everything being so up in the air, he hadn’t really sat down and explored his feelings for Dixon. Until he could accept that he wanted to be with another man, nothing else really could be ironed out.
“You were with a woman the other night, though.” Ram stared at him. “How was that?”
A bit uncomfortable, Tucker squirmed in his seat. “It wasn’t the best.” Hell, it ranked as one of the worst sexual experiences he’d ever had. The woman was hot, sexy, and more than willing to do anything he wanted as long as she got her rocks off. He’d had high hopes, only for them to be dashed from the start. He ended up distracted with flashes of his time with Dixon popping in at the most inconvenient times.
“Couldn’t get Dixon out of your mind?” Wiley asked.
Tucker’s gaze flew to him. “How?”
Wiley grinned. “Ram and I didn’t have smooth sailing right after we were together the first time.” He looked over at Ram.
“I had some issues accepting things.” Ram lifted their joined hands and kissed Wiley’s. “In all honesty, even if I had taken a woman to bed, I believe I would have had the same situation as you did, Tucker. I couldn’t forget how great the sex was with Wiley and that would ruin me for anyone else.”
Tucker processed their comments. Maybe Dixon did ruin me for anyone else. The sex had been hotter than anything he’d yet experienced. Decadent. Exciting. Sinful.
So fucking addictive too, his inner wild dog added. We need him. Want him. He’s ours. A snap of teeth followed, declaring the remarks to be less of a suggestion and more of a strong order.
Tucker ignored the voice, still feeling too off-balanced to deal with two conversations at the same time. Tucker scrubbed his face. “Do you miss being with women?”
Ram shook his head. “Not in the least. I have Wiley and he makes all my dreams come true.”
The sincerity in Ram’s voice carried easily to Tucker’s ears.
“What am I going to do?” The question slipped out unbidden.
“Take some time, figure out what you really want, and then go for it,” Wiley advised.
Ram caught Tucker’s attention. “You have to be willing to look past what happened and realize the cost or benefit of leaving that event totally in your past, never to be experienced again in your future.” He paused a couple of beats. “If it’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for.”
The words soaked in.
He’d found some answers and been left with the biggest question of all. Can I get over this hurdle, accept this enigma in life, and fight for Dixon?
No internal response came, not even from his inner beast.
Chapter 10
TUCKER DOVE to the side, catching the ball about a foot in the air right before it hit the earth, smacking his chest and hips into the unforgiving ground. He made sure to keep his glove closed and the ball secure as he pushed up from the ground. After checking the runner stationed at second base, he tossed the ball back to Graham, the pitcher, and dusted himself off.
“Nice grab.”
Tucker grinned over at Dixon. “Thanks.”
“Always a nose for the ball. Must be a canine thing,” Wiley added, tongue-in-cheek. Since all three of them fit into that category, he could get away with the tease.
“Smart-ass,” Tucker replied without a hint of anger. In fact, he grinned the whole time.
The improved mood was obvious on Tucker’s face, and Dixon felt a combination of relief and happiness. He’d worried that getting benched might make a permanent dent in Tucker’s psyche, but that didn’t seem to be the case, at least for today. Ever since Banner gave Lance the day off and put Tucker back in his old spot, Tucker seemed to have a bounce in his step. A nice change, if only it would last.
Dixon had been around the game long enough to know that Banner swapped the two men to give Tucker an opportunity to earn his position back. That decision could last one day or a month. No telling what the old manager had up his sleeve. Until then, he crossed his fingers Tucker could put on an impressive show.
Their opponent, the Bay City Bengals, were in the middle of the standings in the infancy of the baseball season. The Predators, on the other hand, had huge expectations after taking the final series to win the championship last season. Each game counted, no matter how talented or challenging the other team. Dixon understood the dynamics well. Not like he could forget with his father coaching over the phone. He’d heard more than an earful this morning about the value of momentum and keeping his average up. Facts he already knew and had taken to heart years ago. Irritated, he’d finally gotten upset enough and hung up. After all, he had enough coaching on the diamond without his perfectionist father joining in.
The crack of a bat pulled him back to the present. A ball bounced once on the packed ground. Tucker backhanded the ball, spun, and threw a missile to Dixon.
Dixon positioned himself between the runner and his base, caught the ball, and lowered his glove for the tag. The runner slid feetfirst right into Dixon.
“Out!”
He heard the word but couldn’t focus on anything but hi
s left ankle. After crumpling to the ground, he reached down to hold the area, which throbbed like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. He’d been spiked before, but nothing like this.
Wiley squatted down. “You okay?”
Dixon gritted his teeth. “Yeah. Just give me a hand.” He reached out, but no one did the same.
Tucker joined the party. “I think you should stay put. The doc is on his way.”
Sure enough, Dr. Monroe, the team physician hurried over. He pushed through the circle of players and kneeled. “Where does it hurt?”
“Ankle.” Dixon bit back a growl and a cuss when Dr. Monroe removed his shoe and started to gently rotate the foot around.
“Hmmm.” He prodded up the lower leg and back down again. “Definitely need an X-ray.”
“It’s fine. I can play if someone will just help me up,” Dixon snapped. “Hell, one shift and I’ll be good as new.”
Banner shook his head. “Not happening, kid. So, just do as the doctor orders.” He looked at the other players standing around. “If a couple of you guys can manage to get Dixon to the bench, we can continue on with the game.”
Tucker took one side and Wiley the other. Together, they supported Dixon as he hopped on one leg all the way through the locker area, then to the medical room right next door. He sat down on the table and snarled at his rotten luck.
“That bastard….”
“I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, Dixon.” Wiley patted him on the shoulder. “It was a clean slide, just bad luck.”
Tucker nodded. “Don’t worry. Doc will get you fixed up good as new.” He grinned encouragingly. “We have some private lessons planned that I wouldn’t miss for the world.”
Dixon blew out a breath, his temper cooling at their words. Tucker’s comment perplexed him as he searched for a possible double meaning. Knowing he’d never find out the truth at the moment, he filed the question away for later.
“It’s fine. Just one quick shift and I’ll be back good as new.”
“Go on so I can check him out.” The doctor shooed the other guys out, leaving him alone with Dixon. The short injury time out wouldn’t allow them to stand around, anyway. “Scoot around. I need to take that sock off.” He dropped the shoe he’d removed on the field and carried inside to the floor.
Though he was off the ankle, Dixon still cussed a blue streak as stabbing pain once more struck him.
“The spikes broke the skin,” Dr. Monroe whispered, probably talking to himself.
Dixon heard him well enough. “That’s not the first time or the last time. All part of the game.”
Dr. Monroe met his gaze. “Makes this more complicated if that ankle is broken like I think it is.”
Dixon swallowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning an open fracture is a big infection potential. Get bacteria to the bone and it’s a huge problem. Cleanliness is paramount at this stage.” He sprayed some cool cleaning agent on Dixon’s lower leg and foot, then proceeded to scrub lightly with a cloth he’d pulled out of a side cabinet.
Though the doctor was gentle, pain shot up Dixon’s leg with every touch. Even he could see the area swelling fast. Dixon bit his lip and remained stoic.
After the soap lathered and no traces of dirt remained, Dr. Monroe placed a towel under Dixon’s leg and poured what looked like water from a bottle over it. He repeated the process once more.
The entire time Dixon ran Dr. Monroe’s words through his mind. A surge of worry accompanied his thoughts. As a shifter he rarely thought about injuries, even though they were a common part of the game. Shifter genetics allowed them the advantage of healing quickly with a change in forms. He only hoped this would be the case with him.
He closed his eyes, grappled with the discomfort, then reopened them to find a woman positioning a large metal arm over his foot. Dressed in scrubs, she reminded him of a nurse, yet without the stethoscope hanging around her neck. Presumably the X-ray technician Dr. Monroe promised.
She shot him a small smile. “We’re going to get a couple of pictures.”
“Okay.”
She stepped to one wall, picked up a large hunk of material, then draped it over his body from shoulders to knees.
The weight of it surprised him. Before he could even ask, she scurried several feet away, taking the team doctor with her. A beep followed.
After changing his position, she repeated the process, then moved over to allow Dr. Monroe to see the results.
He gave a quick nod. “Just as I thought. That fibula is fractured. Nondisplaced, though. That’s good.”
Dixon sighed. “No problem. I’ll just shift.”
“That will help, but first I’m going to have to give you antibiotics to curb any infection that might want to set in. The last thing we want to have to do is deal with osteomyelitis.”
The unfamiliar word caused Dixon to blink. “Osteo… what?”
“A bone infection.” Dr. Monroe opened the top drawer of what resembled a large tool chest. He pulled out a glass bottle filled with white liquid and a syringe. “A shot daily for two or three days. Once the wound is closed, the chances decrease immensely.”
Dixon watched him carefully, noted the size of the needle, and grimaced. “And where are you going to stick that?”
Dr. Monroe grinned. “Your butt, where else?”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Dixon felt like a five-year-old getting his immunizations.
He scooted around, lowered his weight to his good leg, then started unbuckling his belt. The sooner they finished, the better.
“I’m going to put you in a walking boot too. And give you a few pain pills. That will take pressure off the fracture and protect those spike wounds. You’ll just need to take it off at night when you’re in bed.”
“Okay.” Dixon went ahead and shucked his shirt as well. Task complete, he sat back down to take off his other shoe and sock, fully remove his pants and underwear, and place everything next to him. Better to keep his uniform off the floor since he had to put it back on.
“Ready when you are.”
Dixon bit back a groan, stood up, and gave the team doctor an easy target. He hissed at the large sting and burn. “Damn. Did you use the needle made for an elephant?”
Dr. Monroe chuckled, finished, and stuck a Band-Aid over the spot. “It’s thick stuff. Gotta use a bigger needle to get it in.”
“I’ll say.” Dixon jiggled a little, hoping it would ease the hurt. No such luck. “Can I shift now?”
“Go for it.”
Dixon wasted no time, inwardly reached for his animal side, felt the tingle, and turned into his gray fox alter ego.
“Cute.”
Dixon glared up at the team doctor and snorted. He would have growled but figured since he needed more shots, pissing off the guy giving them would be a really bad idea. Dr. Monroe might actually dig out the elephant-sized needles just for spite. Instead, he gingerly walked around, trying out the leg. While a bit tender, it seemed to hold up well enough. He made a circle around the room, then returned to the table. In a flash, he morphed back into his human form.
He grabbed his clothes and started pulling them back on, making sure to leave the shoe off his injured foot.
“Here.” Dr. Monroe handed over a bottle of pills and a glass of water. “Anti-inflammatory. It’ll help with swelling and pain, but won’t make you goofy. Take one twice per day for a couple of days at least.”
“Okay.” He opened the bottle, took one out, and swallowed it down with the help of the provided drink.
“This is the walking boot I was talking about.” Dr. Monroe held it up.
The device looked like a plastic slip-on blue cast. Better than dealing with plaster in the heat, he’d imagine. And the easy removal had its perks.
He finished dressing and sat back on the table, letting his legs swing free.
Dr. Monroe placed the boot on, made a couple of small adjustments, then gestured for him to walk.
Dixon did, fin
ding the task definitely different and noisier than before. Though the plastic didn’t weigh much, it sure felt like his foot had gained a good ten pounds. Awkward came to mind. He frowned.
“You’ll get used to it. I’m putting you on the injured reserve list for this series. We’ll recheck you in a week or so back at home base.”
“A week?” Dixon scowled. “That long?”
“Yep.”
“I can shift another time or three. That should take care of it.”
Dr. Monroe stared at Dixon with a stern expression. “I don’t care if you shift fifty times in the next hour, your body still needs some time to strengthen that bone and make sure there’s no residual problem. Certainly, you’re not playing for a few days, so settle down, quit complaining, and deal.”
Dixon blinked at the hard tone. “I’m not worried about playing.” The confession slipped out.
“Then what has you in such a hurry?”
“I have obligations.” Dixon blew out a breath, glanced toward the door, then back again. “I’m helping Tucker with extra practices. I need to be able to do that.”
Dr. Monroe gave a brief nod. “Tell you what. You can give him all the verbal help you want. Throw out pointers, give him the lowdown on teams and pitchers. Be the voice of wisdom for him. But—” He pinned Dixon with his gaze. “Find someone else for him to chase balls with.”
Dixon considered the directions. “I can still hit balls to him, right?”
“Yeah. Light stuff. The whole idea is that you don’t put any huge force on that ankle for a few days. Tight turns, running full-out, jumping, and landing will stress that area and slow down healing. Not to mention hurt like hell. But, walking and doing some low impact stuff is okay.”
Relief washed over Dixon. He smiled for the first time since being carted into the medical room. “Thanks, Doc.” He held out his hand.
Dr. Monroe shook it. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“No chance.” Dixon walked out of the room, still getting the hang of the boot. He headed straight for the dugout and plopped down on the bench. The pain reduced to a dull ache, but one that proved manageable, at least so far.
Switch Hitter Page 11
