Immoral by Nicole Dykes

I’m exactlywhere I want to be. My head is on Ryan’s bare chest as we lay in the hotel bed, both of us totally naked and satisfied from the night before. Going to the bar last night may have been a little reckless, but fuck if I care.

It was fun. Like old times, just us hanging out. Of course, we weren’t old enough to actually hang out in a bar back then, but we did have a small tavern that served as a restaurant and a place to play pool. We’d sit with cokes in our hands for hours, talking about nothing. It’s some of my best memories.

And last night, we added another one.

But my moment of complete contentedness at waking up next to him goes to shit when I realize what actually woke me up was a loud, repetitive banging on my hotel room door.

“What the fuck?” Ry grumbles, turning over and shoving his face into the pillow, still not a morning person.

“I don’t know. I set out the “Do Not Disturb” sign last night.”

“Maybe they’ll go away,” he says, sleep still hanging onto him.

“Open the fucking door.” Oh. Shit.

Ryan sits up straight now at the sound of his agent’s shrill, authoritative voice. “What the hell? How does she even know where I am?”

“You didn’t tell her?” I ask, partially amused.

I stand up and pull on a pair of sweats as does Ryan, and he makes his way to the door where Jenny is still pounding away. “Hell, no. I knew she’d freak the fuck out.”

“Good plan,” I say as he opens the door, and both Jenny and Waylon march inside, closing the door.

Now I know how Jenny found us. I look at Waylon. “Traitor.”

He doesn’t react. He just holds up his phone. “With good reason. I told you not to give me extra work.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about until my eyes zone in on a blurry, dark picture on his phone. “Oh, fuck.”

Ryan grabs it, going pale. “Fuck.”

The picture, although low quality, is most definitely from last night. It’s of Ryan and me in that hallway outside the bathroom, my arm poised above his hand on the wall and our lips touching.

“Yeah, fuck.” Jenny takes the phone, looking at the picture for what I’m sure is the hundredth time and then hands it back to Waylon. “Who do I kill?”

“Me,” Ryan says immediately. “It was my idea to go there.”

She shakes her head in disappointment, but I don’t let her tear into him. “It was definitely my idea to kiss him.” I think it was anyway. Really, it was both of us, caught up in the moment.

“Don’t.” Ryan gives me a firm shake of his head. “I kissed you because I wanted it.” He turns back to Jenny. “I fucking wanted it.”

His voice is strained, and it actually chips away at my heart, hearing him like that. And damn, it actually makes Jenny, the ice queen, soften ever so slightly. “I know, Ryan.”

Waylon gently touches him on the arm. “We just need to sit down and figure out how to get ahead of this.”

Ryan shakes his head but sits down on the sofa, followed by me sitting down next to him. Jenny and Waylon take a seat in opposite chairs. “There’s no way to, right? I mean, it’s out there.”

Waylon nods. “It is. I’ve been tagged so many times overnight. And obviously, my followers are thrilled at the possible coupling.”

I smile at that but keep it a small smile. Waylon may have more followers than me on social media. He’s a bright light in the LGBTQ+ community, bringing them hope and brightness every fucking day. He’s involved in several charities and youth programs. The man is an inspiration, having spent his entire career trying to help the world be a better place.

But his face darkens now. “But that can also turn ugly fast. It’s not just on my page. It’s everywhere.”

“Including in front of the bigwigs we have a meeting with soon,” Jenny says solemnly.

“We can fix this,” I say even if I’m not completely sure. “I’ll say I was fucking around, that I kissed him as a joke.”

Ryan winces, and I cringe because it’s not a fucking joke, and I know that. “No.”

“Ry . . .”

“No,” he says firmly. “That will make you look like an ignorant asshole.”

“I agree,” Waylon says quickly.

I shrug, knowing I’ll do anything to help Ry. “So? I’m used to playing that role. It’s no big deal. I’ll do the dance and apologize for being insensitive and for dragging you into it.”

“No,” Ryan says yet again, a man of few words.

“Ryan,” Jenny sighs, rubbing her temples. “Maybe you should let him do it.”

“It’s not happening. I’m fucking sick of this.”

Jenny, to her credit, isn’t yelling and doesn’t even seem to be freaking out too badly. Honestly, she just seems tired. “Okay, Ryan. How do you want to handle this? It’s a little over a week before our big meeting.”

“Maybe I don’t give a flying fuck about that meeting anymore. Maybe I’m just done. I’m sick of this.” Ryan stands up, his entire body pulling tight with visible tension and anger. “I want to go to a bar with my boyfriend and hold his hand. I want to be able to kiss him in public without anyone batting an eye. I want to fucking love the man I’ve been in love with for years. Out. Loud.”

Jenny doesn’t bite back. She doesn’t stand up. She stays in her chair with her back straight and a sympathetic look on her face. Waylon looks pained by Ryan’s speech, and I’m sure it hurts him deeply.

But it hurts him nowhere as much as it slices me to my core. Because I want that so badly with him. I want to hold him and not worry about where we are when we do what we want to do. I want the freedom to kiss him and say whatever the hell I want to him without thought.

“I want that for you too, Ryan,” I say, standing up and walking to where he’s standing, grasping his firm shoulders. “But I also want you to have your career.”

“Fuck my career.”

I’ve seen him go back and forth on his career, but I’ve never heard this kind of conviction coming from him about it. “Ryan.”

“No.” He looks pained. “Maybe I don’t want this anymore. If I can’t freely be me, who I really am, without having to worry about my contract, maybe I don’t want it.”

Jenny looks worried but not angry as I turn toward her. “Why don’t you guys go grab some coffee or breakfast. We need to talk.”

Waylon stands, walking to stand next to her as she rises from her chair, not arguing with me. She looks to Ry. “I’ll back you, no matter what you want to do. If it’s going to the owners and telling them to fuck off, or if it’s coming out and me threatening them within an inch of their lives against any sort of discrimination, I’ll do it. You just have to tell me what you want.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything, but I know he heard her loud and clear. And damn, I’m actually starting to like her.

They leave, and I walk over to Ryan, who’s still in a daze. “You can’t quit.”

“Yes. Actually I can. My contract is up.”

“But you aren’t done.” I grasp his chin to hold his gaze. “You aren’t.”

“I want you, Grady. Don’t you get that? I’m fucking done with this.”

I see the anger in his eyes as well as the worn-out expression. “I know you are, but I’m not letting you give up your career for me.”

“You say that like you’re nothing.” He shoves me away, not hard but enough to get space between us.

“Hey, no.” I walk him toward the wall until his back hits it. “You don’t get to push me away. You don’t get to fucking run because things get hard.”

He glares at me. “And you don’t get to be nonchalant like none of this fucking matters.” He throws my biggest flaw at me without a second thought, and I nod in agreement because I know this isn’t something I can brush off. It’s not going to just stop being a problem and go away on its own.

I grab the back of his neck, pulling his forehead flush against mine. “Of course, it matters. You’re everything to me. You want out of baseball, fine. But if you don’t, and I know you don’t, then we find a way. You and me, we’re a given, not a choice. It’s you and me forever, no matter what happens or what is thrown at us. Do you hear me?”

He nods. “I do. I hear you.”

“I know you’re tired of this shit. I know you’re tired of not genuinely being yourself. I hear you. But I know you still love playing. I know you love the sound of the crowd chanting your name and your teammates’ names. I know you love the basics—the smell of the leather and the dirt, the fireworks going off above the stadium, the music. I know you love it. And I love you.” I tighten my hold on the back of his neck. “We’re going to make this happen.”

And God help me, we are.