Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

He rolls his eyes. “I’m wearing unicorns, Grant. I am not twirling too.”

I sidle up and rope an arm around his waist. “I’ll suck you off if you do.”

Declan turns in a circle.

“Oh yeah,” I say, then I make good on my promise.

When I’m done, we get dressed, brush our teeth, and make our way to the door. As I grab the keys, I rattle off the names of some of the teens he’ll meet this afternoon. “There’s Topaz. She’s a track star at a school in the Presidio and is obsessed with Gossip Girl. If you know who Gossip Girl is, don’t tell her. She’s watching the series for the first time.”

Declan holds up his hands in surrender. “No clue who Gossip Girl is.”

“Nico is a wrestler in South San Francisco, and the president of the queer club at his high school. He’s more deadpan than you. Jason is the quarterback at a nearby school and he loves video games. He hasn’t come out to his teammates yet, but he says he wants to soon.”

Declan repeats that all, taps his temple. “Got it.”

I give him the names of the people who run the charity, then I snap my fingers. “Almost forgot. You know Asher St. James? Former soccer star? He’ll be there. He’s in town from New York, taking pictures for the Alliance.”

“I assume he’ll want our picture?”

“He’s an ace photographer. I’ll definitely want a shot of us by him,” I say.

“So cute. Will you frame it too?”

“Are you mocking me for liking you?”

“A little.”

“In that case, I will blow that picture up to movie-poster size and hang it right here.” I pat an empty spot on the wall in the foyer. “Does that meet your approval, roomie?”

Declan laughs hard. “Yes, roomie. And then we’ll break in that wall.”

I pump a fist. “Up-against-the-wall sex. I am here for that.”

“Also, I’ll post the pic tonight. Before our games,” he says, and the fact that he’s taking that initiative sends a double dose of butterflies through me as we bound down the steps to the garage.

When we reach the door, his phone buzzes.

“Oh,” he says heavily, staring at the name on the screen.

My chest sinks like there’s an anchor in it. I know who’s calling before he says another word.

“It’s my father.”

A flicker of concern worms through me. But just as quickly as the worry arrives, I dismiss it. I’m not worried about us. I care about him. I don’t want the thorny relationship he has with his father to weigh him down, but I also know this isn’t my battle to fight. My job is to be here for him, so I set my palm on his lower back, reassuring him with touch.

His eyes say thank you as he slides his thumb across the screen, answering. “Hey, Dad.”

A boisterous sound comes from the phone line. Like his dad is saying welcome back, that he got Declan’s text that he’s in town.

“Yes, it’s been a crazy week.”

Declan listens for a beat.

“We can get together for a meal. Sure.”

Another pause. I rub my palm across his back.

“Maybe after my next away series,” Declan offers.

I wince but try to stay strong. For him. With his free hand, he reaches behind him, and covers mine.

“But listen, Dad, I need you to know something.”

I blink. Know what? I’m dying to ask.

“And it’s this,” Declan continues. “If you’re going to ask me for money to pay off a loan, a gambling debt, or to save your business, the answer is no. If you’re going to ask me to pay for you to go to rehab, the answer is yes.”

My eyes pop.

A smile takes over my entire body.

I let go of him, pump my fist.

“That’s how it’s going to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a carnival to go to with my boyfriend. I’m living with Grant Blackwood. We’re together now and have been for a few months. I’m in love with him, and he is with me, so it’s good. Love you, Dad.”

Then he hangs up, and I cup his cheeks and speak from my heart. “I am so proud of you.”

He draws a deep breath like he’s settling himself. “Thanks. Me too.”

Then we leave.

Together.





Epilogue





Declan



* * *



Going public was never the hard part. I’ve had zero fears about telling the world who I love.

My goal has always been that we would be the ones to tell our love story. As we pull into the parking lot near the field by the marina, a car zips down a small hill on a roller coaster a few hundred yards away.

This is our time and our tale. We can tell it on our own terms. That’s what I’ve always wanted. For us to announce that we’re together.

Not my dad.

Not my teammates.

Not my coach.

Not the media.

Not some random Instablogger.

I want it to be our choice.

As we step out of his car—our car—I meet his gaze across the roof, crooking a smile in his direction.

He serves one right back to me, drumming his fingers as the San Francisco sun shines brightly overhead. “You ready?”

“So ready,” I say, and that feels like my anthem lately.