Page 4

4

Knox

In baseball, things change quickly, and the difference between the somber mood in the clubhouse now and the excitement of our win two nights ago was proof of that. There wasn’t any music playing or joking around. Instead, everyone seemed frustrated.

Schmitt stepped into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. “You all need to get your heads out of your asses and figure your shit out.” His eyes swept over all of us. “A hit here and there doesn’t mean anything if we get outplayed.”

I knew his words weren’t intended only for me, but I still took them to heart. Hitting a game-winning home run didn’t mean shit unless I was consistently producing both offensively and defensively every game. And the error I’d committed in the second inning tonight wasn’t going to help me make a good impression on management.

“Now hit the showers, then get on the bus,” Schmitt instructed.

Sighing, I unlaced my cleats and headed for the showers like Skip said .

Once I was clean, steam filled the air as I shut off the water and grabbed my towel. I dried off quickly and slipped on my boxer briefs before walking out. As I rounded the corner, I nearly collided with Stratton.

“Fuck. Sorry,” I muttered.

“No worries.” He stepped aside, giving me space to move around him.

I tried to keep my head down, but I couldn’t help it. My gaze traveled from the V of his hips barely covered by the towel around his waist, over his rippled abs, across his wide chest, and up to the dark brown hair curling slightly around his ears.

For a split second, I could have sworn I saw his eyes flick over me too, but that had to be wishful thinking on my part.

I brushed past him, berating myself for even looking. I was part of the team now, and allowing myself to get distracted by our catcher, despite how sexy I found him, wasn’t worth the risk.

Back at the hotel, no one seemed interested in going out. Losing two games in a row had a way of doing that. Still, a few of us decided to hang out downstairs for a couple of drinks before heading to bed.

The lobby bar was dim and quiet, matching our mood. We found a table tucked away in a corner and ordered a round of beers.

Once we had our drinks, the conversation quickly turned to the game and how we had played.

“If we don’t get out of this slump soon, the team might want to make some changes to the roster,” Stratton mused, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“No shit, and I’m out of options,” Payne explained. “I’ll be fucking pissed if I get designated for assignment.”

Hearing a veteran player worry about his future served as another reminder of how temporary everything in baseball was.

Davenport nodded. “Schmitt’s ass is probably on the line too. The last three seasons haven’t been great.”

“He’s the best manager I’ve played for,” Latham added. “If we’re not going to get our shit together for ourselves, we at least owe it to him.”

We continued chatting, tossing around ideas about what we could do to get things going our way again. At least, that’s what we did until Payne glanced over at the bar.

“I think I found a way to forget all about this crappy night.” Payne smirked, elbowing Latham.

We turned to see what caught his attention and saw three women drinking cosmos and smiling at us.

Latham pushed away from the table. “I like the sound of that.”

Davenport, Stratton, and I watched them approach the group. The ladies laughed at something one of them said, but another kept her focus on our table. Or, more specifically, on Stratton.

But he didn’t acknowledge her, and his lack of interest surprised me. From the little bit of media coverage I’d seen, I was pretty sure Stratton was straight, and I’d seen photos of him at a couple of events with a date.

She must have gotten the hint because she whispered something to her friends before grabbing her purse and walking away, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

A few minutes later, Payne and Latham called out their goodbyes to us and then led the two remaining women to the elevators.

“Looks like those two are about to get lucky.” Davenport lifted his phone from the table. “Meanwhile, I’ll be doing the same, except mine will be through a video call.”

I snorted. “That’s romantic.”

“My lady doesn’t complain.” He smirked before standing. “Later, boys.”

He took off, leaving just me and Stratton at the table.

Suddenly, sitting alone with one of my new teammates felt a little awkward. Maybe it was because I was across from the guy I’d been checking out an hour earlier and couldn’t think of anything to say. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“Leave it to Payne and Latham to ditch a serious conversation about baseball for an easy hook up.” He chuckled.

“No kidding. They saw an opportunity and jumped at it.”

He picked at the label on his bottle. “You ever do that?”

“What? Approach someone I’m interested in?” His question caught me off guard. “Yeah. All the time. Don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Not very often.”

I wrinkled my brow in confusion, a little surprised by that. “Seriously?”

He glanced around the bar, which had emptied out except for the bartender cleaning a table on the other side of the room. “No one asks questions when a guy like me goes after a woman .”

He paused, looking at me like he expected me to put the pieces of an unknown puzzle together, but then it clicked.

“And when it’s not a woman?”

“It’s not really a thing during the season,” he admitted. “Offseason is another story, but around the team?” He sighed. “I keep that to myself.”

Holy shit. Did Crew Stratton just admit he was bi?

Curious, I asked, “Does anyone know?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not even my friends or family.”

“It’s gotta be hard keeping a secret like that.”

“Not when you come from a super small conservative town and grew up with people who aren’t accepting,” he replied.

Even before coming out to my parents, they’d made it clear they were allies to the LGBTQ+ community. Because of that, I sometimes took their support for granted. Stratton’s confession reminded me that not everyone had the same experience.

“True, but I can’t imagine a whole town having an issue.”

“You clearly don’t know what it’s like growing up in a place like Harvest Ridge, Tennessee. Everyone went to the same church where they constantly preached about the sins of the flesh.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued to share. “Although no one back home ever had anything negative to say when they knew I was messing around with chicks in high school, they’d have plenty of opinions about me being with another man.”

“Well, if that isn’t hypocritical,” I muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

“But things would be different with our teammates,” I said. “You saw how it wasn’t a big deal when I told them I was gay.”

“That definitely took some balls. What would you have done if they hadn’t been cool with it?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve never let that worry me before. I’d rather know who has a problem with me and who doesn’t.”

He finally smiled. “Makes sense.”

Wanting to lighten the mood more, I flashed him a teasing grin. “At least now I don’t have to feel silly for checking you out. Straight guys aren’t really my thing.”

The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Just because Stratton was bi, it didn’t mean he’d be interested in me. Sometimes people assumed that because someone dated men, it meant he wanted to fuck every guy he saw. That sort of ignorant thinking annoyed the shit out of me, and I hated that I’d basically made a joke about the same thing.

Before I could backtrack, the bartender came over and told us he was closing up.

I went to pay my portion of the tab, but Stratton handed over his credit card first. “You can buy next time.”

I tucked my wallet back into my pocket. “Will do.”

We walked to the elevators and stepped inside. I leaned against the wall while Stratton pressed the button for the eighteenth floor.

Without looking at me, he said. “So, you’ve been checking me out, huh?”

I groaned. “You were supposed to forget I’d said that.”

“Nah.” He turned to face me and stepped closer, causing my heart to speed up. “I definitely want to hear more about that.”

Before I could register what was happening, he reached for my shirt and pulled me toward him .

He captured my mouth with his, and for a second, I didn’t react. Not because I didn’t want to kiss him back, but he’d taken me by surprise.

The elevator dinged, signaling we’d reached our floor, and he pulled away just before the doors slid open.

“Come to my room,” he whispered.

“Okay,” I breathed.