Page 23 of The Last Person (Baker Girls #5)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

brIAN

Hardy is bouncing with energy and determination as he walks toward the HR office. I trail behind him, hands in my pockets.

Hardy has been upbeat and confident all day. That’s his usual nature, but he’s had an extra flair of it today.

A few of the guys joked that he must’ve gotten laid over the long weekend, and I had to completely turn away from him so we wouldn’t give anything away.

The whole point of this meeting is to make it official and by-the-book so we don’t have to worry about any fallout and can tell people whenever we decide we want to.

Which knowing Hardy will be immediately.

I’m always the more reserved one in that sense.

Not that I ever want to hide my love for him, but I also don’t need to shout about it to everyone.

I’ll do whatever makes him happy, though. Like always.

“Are you coming?” he calls from the doorway to the office suites.

I bite back a laugh. “Yeah. Keep your pants on.”

He frowns. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

Now I really have to stifle a laugh. I can’t wait to get him pantsless.

To finally have him in every way. But we have to do the tough thing first. Hardy doesn’t seem to think it’ll be tough, and maybe it’s just my cloudy nature assuming it won’t be easy, but it’s not like professional football is swarming with out queer players, let alone two on the same team who are in a relationship.

Legally, we’re completely above board, but they can throw around any reason they like to push one of us off the team. And it would likely be me. I’m good at my job, but Hardy and Mark together are a winning combination that they won’t readily get rid of.

As soon as we enter the front office area, the HR rep, Bianca, appears. She’s tall with long brown hair, rectangle black glasses, and a commanding look that makes it clear she won’t take anyone’s shit. Necessary for dealing with a bunch of boys obsessed with balls.

“Hardison. Are you ready for our very ambiguous chat?”

He purposely only mentioned himself when he requested this meeting with HR, Coach, and the GM because he didn’t want to risk word getting out.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then,” she says, nodding toward her office.

He moves to follow her, and so do I, but she spins back around. “I know you two spend a lot of time together, but you don’t need to be here for this, Ackley.”

“Actually, he does,” Ryan says, voice surprisingly firm.

Her eyes move between the two of us. “Okay, then. Come on.” We follow her into the office, and she stares us down. “So, are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

He opens his mouth, and I’m not sure if I should expect him to wax poetic about how much he loves me or shout that he’s queer at the top of his lungs.

Before he can say anything, Head Coach Robbins and our GM, Chet Collins, walk in.

I can’t stand Chet. He gives me skeevy vibes in a way I can’t quite explain.

He’s never actively said or done anything in front of me to make me question him, but I can’t deny that gut feeling.

I’d rather have the team owner, Mike Brady, here.

He’s only a few years older than us and a little green when it comes to owning a team, but he’s a good guy.

“Hardison.” Chet nods at him. “And Ackley.” His voice lifts in confusion.

“All right, spill it, Hardy. What’s going on? And why do you need Ackley here?” Coach says.

Hardy glances at me, then smoothly says, “I need to declare a relationship with another member of Bandits personnel.”

Bianca’s gaze softens slightly, though her brows knit together in confusion. She usually knows everything going on around here, but since we didn’t have our come-to-Jesus moment until a few days ago, there’s no way she could know this.

“With who?” she asks. “And why aren’t they… here?” Her eyes land on me, understanding growing in them.

Coach chuckles and runs a hand over his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

Chet throws his hands out. “What am I missing? Someone want to let me in on the joke?”

Bianca’s heavy sigh draws our attention as she sits down in her chair and picks up her office phone. “Hey, Breanna, I’m going to need you in my office.”

PR. Right. That shows how Hardy has been a bit naive about this. He didn’t even think to include what will likely be the most important department to talk with going forward.

“Will someone explain to me what’s going on?” Chet demands.

It doesn’t bode well that he hasn’t even considered that I’m the person Hardy is in a relationship with.

“It looks like two of your best players are more than friends,” Bianca says, her demeanor lighter now.

“What?” Chet snarls. “Is this some kind of practical joke?”

Coach Robbins shakes his head. “You haven’t been paying any attention to the team dynamics if you’re shocked by this.” Then his eyes narrow as he stares at us. “Tell me you two haven’t been fooling around under my nose for the last two years.”

Bianca goes still as a stone, stopping midway through typing as she watches us.

Chet’s face goes red.

“No,” Hardy says quickly. “That’s giving us way too much credit. The feelings were there, but we didn’t acknowledge them or start anything until after the last game.”

Coach lets out a sigh of relief.

“I appreciate you declaring the relationship—”

Chet cuts Bianca off. “Relationship? They can’t. It’s against—”

“There’s nothing in the contract that says they can’t,” Robbins says, voice sharp.

“What? Why not?” There’s nothing understanding in Chet’s voice. There’s only anger, letting me know my gut feeling was dead-on.

“Because as much as everyone likes to say professional football is inclusive, none of those contracts are written with having active queer players in mind,” Ryan says.

“For fuck’s sake,” Chet mutters.

Coach’s gaze hardens. “Are you going to be openly bigoted about this? Sounds like a great new slogan for the press. Bandits are bigots.”

“Can’t say I’m a fan of that.” Breanna from PR walks in, a tight smile on her lips as she regards Chet, though her eyes are calm. She aims for Bianca’s desk. “We should’ve seen this coming, huh?”

“Yep,” Bianca says. Her printer goes off, the jarring sound filling the room. She puts two papers on the desk. “I need you each to fill in the blanks and sign your names on one of these.”

“That easy?” Ryan asks as we step up to the desk.

“The HR side is the easy part. Bre has the harder job.”

“This can’t happen,” Chet says.

Bianca stands up, a cool expression fixed on Chet. “Legally, it absolutely can.”

Beside me, Ryan bristles, and though I want to reach for his hand, I know that would only add fuel to this dangerous fire.

We both fill out the paperwork as a tight silence fills the room.

Once we’ve both signed our names, we slide the paperwork back to Bianca, who files it away.

Chet is standing still as a stone, face red and arms crossed over his chest. Coach doesn’t look happy either, but his ire isn’t for us.

Breanna clears her throat and steps forward. “Let’s talk about where we go from here,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, there are a lot of questions now. Do you want to come out? If so, when? When do you want to tell the team, if at all? Do your agents know, and what are their recommendations?”

“My agent knows I’m bi, though I haven’t updated him since Hardy and I got together. He’s always said he’ll work with the team whenever I choose to come out.”

“Mine knows everything, and he’s behind me whenever I want to do this. I want to be clear, we have no intention of hiding this.” Ryan sends a pointed look Chet’s way.

“Then you can deal with the consequences.”

Bianca clears her throat. “There are no consequences for being queer players or having a workplace relationship as long as it doesn’t impact their abilities to do their jobs.”

“Exactly,” Chet says. “And what happens when you come out to the team and fights break out because no one wants to play with”—he pauses and swallows—“teammates like you?”

Oh, that asshole wanted to say the F-word, and I don’t mean fuck.

Ryan’s fists clench, and he takes a step forward, but I splay a hand over his chest, holding him back.

But Chet wants to push things and steps closer, glaring at Hardy. “What happens when ticket sales drop because people don’t want to support two gay players?”

I want to point out that I’m bi and Ryan hasn’t defined what he is, but that’s part of his point. He’s trying to take away our autonomy. Pointing that out only gives him more power.

“Be careful how you’re talking, Chet,” Coach says.

Chet steps back, demeanor morphing from angry to calm and eerily lackadaisical. But his eyes… there’s something dark in them.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “All I’m saying is players have been traded for a lot less than fucking their teams Super Bowl chances or losing revenue. Do with that what you will.”

“Are you threatening us?” Ryan barks.

“Hardison,” Coach warns.

Chet puts his hands up. “I’m simply making it clear what could happen.”

Then he strolls out of the room, whistling.

The second he’s out of earshot, Ryan slams his hand down on a nearby chair, absolutely seething.

I reach for him, but he storms out of the room before I can touch him.

My stomach turns. I didn’t like that conversation, either, but I’ve never seen Ryan like this.

All I want to do is fix it, recenter him on what matters, but I’m not sure how to do that when the manager of our team just promised to tear us apart because he doesn’t want queer players on his team.

With nothing else to do, I nod to Bianca, Breanna, and Coach, then follow Hardy’s path back to the locker room.