Page 136 of Playing Dirty

“And I am, my love. I get to watch my son grow into a wonderful young man and take on the world. Right now, that’s all I need.” She pauses, nudging me playfully. “Now, if he’d make sure not to get in any more car accidents, I’d be grateful for that. I don’t need any more gray hairs.”

A low chuckle slips out at her teasing. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now, tell me about this boy you’re so clearly in love with.”

My brows shoot up at the request. After all, being supportive of me coming out is one thing, but this…has to be a lot for her. A betrayal, even. First Dad falling for Carla and then me falling for his new wife’s son.

Yet I don’t see an ounce of hurt or bitterness in her eyes as she waits for me to speak. Only eagerness.

“You’re really not upset,” I murmur, and though it’s more an observation than a question, she answers anyway.

“Love is the most beautiful thing on this planet, Theo. I could never be upset about you finding it.” She reaches up and brushes a few pieces of hairfrom my forehead before inquiring, “Now, are you going to tell me about him, or do I need to go track down his room and interview him myself?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I start talking about Madden. I fill her in on all the amazing pieces of who he is, but also the countless things he’s shown me about myself. And as more and more details float in the air between us, I feel lighter. Like this secret that’s been an anvil pressing down on my chest for weeks on end, suffocating me with layers of guilt, betrayal, and longing, is finally lifting.

And now, I can finally breathe.

Thirty-Four

Theo

“You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d just come stay at my place.”

I glance over at Madden, who is watching me like a hawk as I use the railing to navigate up the front porch steps of the townhouse. Concern knits his brows, and from the way his fists are clenched around my crutches, it’s taking all his willpower to not help me. He manages, though, and for that I’m grateful.

He’s barely left my side in the week since the accident, even though he was released from the hospital the following day. And while I love having him around, it’d be preferable if it wasn’t because of the guilt still consuming him for being the one behind the wheel when it happened.

Once I’m up the stairs, I hold out my hands to take my crutches back.

“All good. See?”

“Until you have to go up another flight of stairsinside,” he reminds me.

He does give back my crutches, though, and keeps a hand extended after in a silent offer for me to hand over the duffle bag slung across my body, but I don’t take it.

There’s a flash of heat in his eyes at my defiance, and he shakes his head.

“You’re gonna be the death of me. You know that?”

I smirk. “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow.”

“I’m a little more concerned about you staying on your feet,” he shoots back, but I give him a knowing look.

“Your concerns should be on making sure you’re not late for practice.”

“I’ll be fine,” he murmurs while opening the front door. “I’ve got at least an hour to kill. Plenty of time for me to get you settled in your room.”

I have to bite my tongue, not looking to argue with him about it, even when I know I’m right. After all, it’s his first practice back, having just been cleared by his doctors while waiting for me to be discharged earlier this afternoon. Which is great news, and I’m genuinely glad for him to get back on the field. It’s where he belongs, and I’d hate to see him lose out on the rest of the season—and the possibility of being drafted—because of the accident.

But I know he feels guilty that I won’t be on the field too, despite me reminding him over and over again this past week that I don’t have a future in baseball the way he does.

We both enter the house, albeit rather slowly thanks to me still getting the hang of these crutches, and Madden lets the door fall closed behind us. I hobble my way to the living room, only making it to the couch by the time Madden is already at the stairs.

He looks back at me with a pleading look.

“Baby, can I just carry you up? Or at leasttake—”

He’s interrupted by the basement door swinging open, Phoenix coming into view from behind it. His gaze lifts, spotting the two of us, and he pauses at the top of the stairs. From the way his attention darts between Madden and me, brows hiked up toward his hairline, he wasn’t expecting to see us. Scratch that. I texted the house chat that I’d be coming home this afternoon, and he reacted to it.