Winning With Him by Lauren Blakely

Grant

The next two days are a whirlwind of baseball games and schedules, phone calls and plans.

Declan and I go super domestic in the mornings, figuring out what he needs and wants from his place in New York, and what he can donate.

“I don’t want you to feel like this home isn’t yours,” I say, gesturing to the kitchen, living room, and beyond. “You can ship whatever you want, and we’ll make room for it.”

As he drinks his coffee, he rolls his eyes. “Yes, I care about furniture so much.”

“All I’m saying is if you hate my sex couch, we can get a new one.”

“Gee. Can we please go to IKEA next weekend?”

“Smart ass.”

He leans across the counter and gives me a peck. “Furniture is whatever. I love our sex couch. I do request one ground rule, though.”

“You and your rules,” I toss back.

“You ready?”

I straighten my spine. “Yes, we will have sex every day we’re together. You don’t have to make it a rule, man. I already plan on religiously following that.”

Declan laughs hard, shaking his head. He slides his hand across the counter, reaching for mine. “The rule is this—I don’t want to be your kept man.”

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Was that a previous option? Because I feel like the trophy-boy thing goes the other way. I am four years younger.”

I earn an eye roll for that sass.

“Seriously, though,” I say. “What do you mean? Like, you want to split the monthly porn bill?” I brush my hands together. “Sure, done. You can pay me back with eleven dollars a month in coffee. We good?”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. “I’m going to sell my place in New York. And I don’t need to buy a place here since I’m living with you.”

I shoot him a searing look. “No, you’re not living with me. We live together.”

“Yes, and my point is, I want us to be . . .”

For a second, it sounds like he’s going to say partners, and I’m not ready for that. Not yet. Doesn’t seem like he is, either, since he takes a breath, then continues, “I want us to be in this together. So, can I pay half the mortgage?”

I bark out a laugh as I move around the counter, set my hands on his shoulders, and meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have a mortgage. I own this house free and clear.” I sweep a kiss to his lips. “Just like I bet you did in New York.”

He dips his head, laughing. “Yes, I owned it outright too.” He raises his face. “I guess that means I’m going to have to buy us a condo on South Beach.”

I smile salaciously. “Miami, here we come.” I glance at the clock. “Want to go see my grandma and grandpa?”

“I absolutely do.”

We get in my car and drive across the bridge to Sausalito, where we meet my grandparents at a coffee shop that looks out on Richardson Bay. There’s a chance we could be seen, so we don’t hold hands.

We have a plan for how we’ll come out.

For now, I walk next to my guy, heading for the two people who are like my parents. They’re waiting in the back corner of the coffee shop, and Grandpa stands and smiles when he spots us. “Good to see you again, Declan,” he says.

“And you too, sir.”

My grandma rises too, and offers her hand to Declan. “I’m Kimberly Campbell, Grant’s grandmother. So great to meet you.”

Declan presses his lips together tightly, his bottom lip quivering. “You are my hero,” he says softly, choking up as he brings her in for a hug.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I didn’t expect that.”

“A hug?” I ask.

“No, to be someone’s hero.”

“Well, you are,” Declan says, emotion thick in his voice. “Thank you for everything.”

My throat tightens, and I try to swallow past the hitch in it.

When they separate, Grandma still looks flummoxed. I don’t tell her why Declan adores her already. Some things are just between a man and his man.

We spend the next hour with the two people I love like crazy, and when we leave, my grandpa pulls me aside. “It’s the good obvious,” he says.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Later that day, we’re getting ready for the carnival in our bedroom when Declan puts on his unicorn underwear.

I whistle.

“Hell yes,” I say, then twirl my finger in a circle. “Now turn around. Let me admire your ass from every angle.”

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.