Winning With Him by Lauren Blakely
Declan
My mother is waiting at Grant’s front door. Next to her is Tyler, with my duffel bag at his feet. Grant sees them as he turns into the driveway, and he slows to a stop. Then he looks at me, lifting a questioning brow. “I’m sure your family is super cool, but are we hanging out with them tonight? I’m fine with that, but I do really want to fuck and cuddle you all night long.”
The way he asks is adorable, as if he would suffer through family even if he’s as ready as I am for the great naked fest.
“No,” I say, shaking my head as he cuts the engine. “But Mom did kind of know about my trade before you did.”
Grant narrows his blue eyes at me in pretend anger. “And why is that?”
“I couldn’t very well show up at the art gallery, holding a duffel bag and looking for you. We haven’t figured that part out yet.”
Grant sets a hand on my thigh. “We will. Soon. Because you and I should be free to do that.”
“And we will be. But I was being practical. When I landed at SFO, I called her and asked if I could drop my bag at her house on the way to the gallery. And then when we drove away from the bridge, I texted her to please bring it over here.”
He smiles. “Your mom’s cool.”
“She is. Let’s go say hi to her again.”
We get out of the car and meet my mom on the front steps. I clap Grant on his shoulder, keeping my hand on this man I love. “Mom, you already met Grant. Grant, this is Tyler. My stepfather.”
Grant steps forward, extends a hand. “Good to meet you, sir.”
“Good to meet you too. And thank you.”
Grant’s brows lift. “For making Declan happy?”
“Well, that. But mostly, thank you for the five hits, four RBIs, and the excellent work behind the plate last fall, getting us a World Series win.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? I’ve just been traded to the Dragons, and you are fanboying all over my boyfriend?”
Tyler snaps his gaze to me and adopts a surprised but delighted expression. “Oh, it’s good to see you too, Declan. But,” he says, giving a what-can-you-do shrug, “Grant is the one who helped us get a World Series win.”
Grant nudges me with his elbow. “The man is right. You should really let him fanboy for a minute.”
I toss my hands in the air. “Fine. Go ahead and fanboy over Grant Blackwood.”
My mom squeezes my shoulder. “Look on the bright side. At least we don’t have to pretend to root for the Comets anymore.”
“You never rooted for the Comets, pretend or otherwise! Maybe you’re the reason we didn’t win a World Series. Hell, that’s why they traded for me five years ago—to try to win a World Series.”
Grant tilts his head to the side. “And how’d that work out for them? Kind of rough, isn’t it?”
My eyes bug out. “You did not just say that to me.”
“I kind of did. Have I told you that your boyfriend is a competitive bastard?” Grant asks.
“I knew that about my boyfriend. But I thought he would be a little more sympathetic,” I say with a huff.
“This is sports, dear,” my mother tuts. “There’s no sympathy in baseball. It’s cutthroat.”
Tyler nods. “Do or die. And listen, I hope you understand, Declan, but we’re not even going to pretend to root for the Dragons.”
“As if I thought you would,” I say.
Mom steps forward, wraps her arms around me in a hug, dropping the ribbing, going straight into mom mode. “But I will say this much: I am so happy that you’re a Dragon. I’m so happy for you.” As she holds me close, tucking her face against my neck, her throat hitches and her voice breaks. She brings me even closer, whispering, “I am so happy for you that you’re here. So unbelievably happy that you can be with your love.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
When Mom pulls back, she sucks in her tears then swipes a hand across her face. Tyler steps in, wraps an arm around her, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not crying,” he says softly.
Pursing her lips together, she runs her fingertips under her eyes again. “Fine. I’m crying. And seeing the two of you like this”—she gestures from me to Grant—“is my greatest joy.”
Grant smiles then turns to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “Hopefully that makes you happy too. It makes me pretty happy to do that to your son,” he says to her.
My mom’s hand flies to her heart, and Tyler lets a tear slide down his face too.
I wave a hand dismissively. “You guys are going to get me all choked up. And don’t you know, there’s no crying in baseball,” I say, a little rough and gravelly.
Grant reaches for my hand. I don’t know if this means we’re telling the world that we’re together. I don’t know if anyone is walking by taking our picture.
But I also know that I don’t care. Right now, my life is somehow even better than it was twenty minutes ago.
