Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,82
spring training ever, and it carries over into Opening Day. I go two-for-four at the plate, and we get our official World Series rings in a pre-game ceremony.
Across the country, Declan knocks in two runs, and the Comets win as well. That night, I call and ask about his game. But he’s more interested in the ring ceremony, so I give him all the details.
“Send me a pic of your ring.”
I do as he asks, and a few seconds later, he hums. “I want one of those,” he says, abject longing in his voice.
“You’ll get one. I know it,” I assure him.
“I don’t know—I’ve been playing for ten years and haven’t even made it to a World Series. Who knows how long I’ll play?”
I sit up straighter in bed. “You’re not thinking of retiring, are you?” I don’t want Declan to hang up his cleats early. He has so much game left in him.
“No way. You’ll have to pull me off the diamond kicking and screaming.” He laughs lightly, but wistfully. “All I’m saying is you never know what’s going to happen. Every year feels like it could be my last.”
“I get what you mean, but I don’t believe it. You’re only thirty-one. You’re going to be playing for a long time. I can feel it.”
“Long enough for you to come to one of my games and root for me?” His voice pitches upward hopefully.
I latch onto that note. “Is that something you want? Me in the stands?”
“Yeah. I do want that.” A happy sigh rumbles over the phone. “I have this fantasy of seeing you in the stands, of us locking eyes. Of calling my shot and hitting a homer for you.”
I laugh, truly tickled by that image. “And when you cross home plate, you’ll jog over to me. I’ll lean over and give you a big smacker. Is that your fantasy too?”
He groans, long and low. “I want that. Badly.” After a moment, he shifts his tone. “Seriously, though, I would love it if you were at one of my games. You don’t even have to kiss me. Just knowing you’re there would rock my world.”
“You know what’s amazing? When someone tells you what he wants. When you know you can give it to him.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yes. I would. I want to rock your world, Declan Steele.”
“You definitely do.”
“And I am sure someday you’ll have a ring.”
And I’ll be at that game, cheering you on.
But, that wish, I hold close to the vest. There’s too much to jinx in it.
“Maybe. But even if I don’t, I’m pretty happy right now,” he says.
“So am I.”
Except for that little matter of a long-distance relationship. We haven’t talked about that—what it looks like long-term, how we’ll make it work beyond May.
On one hand, it seems like we’re navigating the relationship part just fine. But I’m not convinced either one of us knows a thing about how to handle the distance.
34
Declan
One thing I learn about Grant Blackwood in April: he likes to give gifts. It’s not entirely surprising, but it is absolutely endearing.
The first gift arrives in digital form late one night after a game.
I’m on the subway heading home, tempted to open it. I’ve learned, though, that multimedia texts and emails from Grant are best viewed behind closed doors.
I wait . . . mostly patiently.
Once I’m inside my apartment, I click open the text, and I’m both turned on and amused as I click on a picture of Grant’s ass photoshopped into a Topps baseball card.
A chuckle bursts from me as I read the stats. Instead of batting average, height, and weight, he’s listed:
Firm enough to flick a quarter off it.
Round, tight, and delish.
Your favorite place.
He does include position, though. But rather than catcher, he writes: Versatile AF. Can play all positions and loves all positions.
It’s the best gift ever.
I write back.
* * *
Declan: Does this mean you want a dick card?
* * *
Grant: Dick card, dick pic, dick drawing. S’all good.
* * *
I FaceTime him, so he gets a dick video that turns into a long, late-night phone call where we get ready for bed together.
“Hey,” I say, flashing back to Grant’s first season of pro ball and a convo in the bathroom of a pool hall. “Did you ever learn to cook?”
Laughing, he shakes his head. “Nope. I am the king of DoorDash. You’ve barely seen my amazing DoorDash skills. I know the takeout menu of every restaurant in the entire San Francisco metropolitan area.”