Immoral by Nicole Dykes

I haveno idea how Grady thinks we can solve this. It seems damn near impossible. They have a picture of us kissing. But even if there was a small amount of fear when I saw the picture, there was also relief, like I was let out of a cage I’ve been trapped in for years.

Waylon, Jenny, Grady, and I had lunch delivered to Grady’s hotel room, and we’re sitting down to eat and discuss. No one is eating.

“Okay, so what do you want to do?”

I look at Jenny after her question and then turn to Grady. We didn’t make a plan. But he doesn’t answer for me. I turn back to Jenny. “Is it too late to negotiate with LA? With Bennett?”

Her eyebrow arches only slightly, giving away her initial surprise. But before she can say anything, Grady apparently has something to say now. “You want to leave KC?”

The nervous feeling I normally get when thinking about leaving isn’t there, not even a little bit. It’s what I know. I love and appreciate the fans, but I want to move on. I want it more than I could ever say. “Yes.”

He looks stunned by my admission. “You don’t have to do this for me. We can work around this.”

I shake my head, not wanting to talk it all out right now. I turn to Jenny. “Do you think that would be possible?”

“I think that would be the easiest negotiation I’ve ever been a part of. You two just won the World Series together. Their team is shit at the moment.” Her lips purse like she’s carefully considering what she says next. “But are you sure this is what you want?”

“I do.” I smile at Grady, hoping to lessen his concern. “I like the idea of being in the same zip code as you again.”

That finally lifts his mouth into a fucking grin. “I like that idea too. But we both travel so much, does our zip code really matter?”

“It matters,” I confirm quickly. God, I want this. I didn’t realize how much until now.

Jenny stands, not bothering with her food. “Okay, I’ll go make some calls. Try to get it settled before the meeting. If all goes well, you’ll be signed with LA before they even get wind of it.”

It feels dirty almost to do it that way, but considering they’ve been fishing around for new talent and have pushed off my negotiations, I’m kind of at the fuck ’em point. “Okay.”

“And what about you two?” Jenny asks as she points at me and then drags that finger in Grady’s direction.

I answer for him this time because I’m fucking done hiding. “We’re together. And once the ink is dried on the contract, we’re going out in public together.”

“To make a statement?” Jenny doesn’t seem against it.

I clear my throat, the prospect of making an official, planned-out statement still making my skin crawl. I look at Grady. “No.” He raises a questionable eyebrow, and I finish my answer, “But I’m not hiding shit. We’re going to go out to a restaurant or a bar or whatever the fuck, and if I want to hold his hand, I will. If I want to kiss him, I fucking will.”

“But no public statement?” This time it’s Waylon with the question.

Grady answers easily, always on the same page, “No, fuck ’em. I didn’t have to make a public statement when I started dating Vicky. They all just saw us out in public and assumed.”

“But every interview you did after that, they asked about your relationship,” Waylon points out.

“So, we’ll deal with it then,” I say, unbothered because I’m not going on social media and becoming the poster boy for out athletes. Do I hope this will start a change? Sure. Do I want to be a martyr? No.

“Yeah. Casually.” Grady smiles comfortably. “I like it.”

“I fucking love it,” I say with my eyes locked on him. And holy shit, it feels good. I know I still need to lay low until I get my contract executed, but this “scandal” is out there. If they sign me already suspecting I’m gay, chances are good they aren’t going to give a fuck.

Jenny takes a deep breath, straightening out her skirt and almost looking like a proud mama. “I’m happy for you, Ryan. I really am.”

Grady gawks at her, surprise on his face. “Holy fuck, are you crying?”

I examine her face more closely and notice her eyes are indeed glossy. She wipes at her eyes quickly and then raises her middle finger at Grady. “Fuck off. I have PMS, and I have to deal with you assholes.”

I grin and stand up, wrapping my arm around her. “That does sound awful.”

Grady leans back in his seat. “Yeah, thank God for having balls and a dick.”

She’s shooting daggers at him now, and I decide to walk her out before she kills my boyfriend and blames it on momentary hormonal rage. “Thank you, Jenny. Really. I know this hasn’t been easy.”

A strange look passes over her face, but she doesn’t confirm how much of a pain in the ass I am. “This actually makes my life a hell of a lot easier. You know, you’re my only client in the middle of the US. All my other ones are on the West Coast.”

I did know that. I also know she lives in KC because I’ve been her most lucrative client so far. “I appreciate it.”

“I’ll call you when they’re ready to sign.”

She leaves, and I go back to take a seat with Waylon and Grady, who are both in cheerful moods. Grady laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe she cried.”

Waylon has his phone out and is working as he eats. But he sighs, glancing toward the door Jenny just walked through and then back at Grady and me. “She really cares about you.”

Grady and I both share a look, and then Grady snorts. “Yeah. Okay, Waylon.”

Waylon, however, doesn’t laugh. “You guys, you have to realize how much you mean to her. I think this is a huge weight off her shoulders.”

“What do you mean?” I ask as I pop some food in my mouth, my appetite back.

“It was killing her to make you keep that a secret. Trying to put out the fires all the time. Jenny—she’s hardcore—but that shit bugged the hell out of her.”

I don’t think he’s wrong about that. Even if she came off brash nearly all the time, I never got the sense she enjoyed making me hide my sexuality. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. You guys need to give her a break. She’s a woman who has a career in a male-dominated field, always having to prove herself.” His eyes land on me, but he’s not mad. “And you haven’t made it easy on her.”

“Not his fault he’s gay and a baseball player in a world of fucking douchebags.”

I laugh. “I’m not arguing about who had it worse. You’re right, Waylon.”

“We’ll send her a gift basket. What do you get for Satan’s assistant?” Grady asks, but he’s kidding. I know she’s grown on him a whole hell of a lot lately.

“Right. Let me handle the gifts.” Waylon stands, putting his phone in his pocket. “I’m going to let you two celebrate appropriately and get the hell out of here. Please do Jenny and me a favor . . .” He points his gaze at Grady. “No more trouble for at least a week.” He looks at me. “Make it easy on her.”

I nod in agreement. Grady salutes him like the asshole he is before Waylon leaves with a sigh, probably assuming they’re going to have several fires to put out during the next week despite his warning.

But really, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure this works out.

“Celebrate?” Grady waggles his eyebrows, and I laugh.

“Of course. But after I eat. I think I’m going to need all the energy I can get.”

He doesn’t argue with that, but he does look troubled, too concerned for his handsome face and normal easy going attitude. “You really want to move away from KC? You know if you want to live in the same zip code, I’ll fucking move.”

I know he would.

“I need a change. I have to stop living for my parents and the fans. I need to do this for me.”

He moves closer to me, his smile over-the-top cheesy. “And that something you need to do . . . That would be me?”

I roll my eyes but lean in and kiss him hard. “You’re a dumbass.”

He laughs. “So LA, huh?”

“If everything works out.”

I shovel food in my mouth, and he leans against the back of the seat. “Well, your music room is kick ass, but mine’s better. And so is my pool. I think you’ll like it.”

I gape at him, my mouth full of food as I try my best to chew and then finally swallow. “Did you just ask me to move in?”

“Why the hell not? Same zip code and you uprooting your life for me? Sounds like this is the logical next step.”

I laugh, taking a drink of water to get the food down my throat. “You really do jump head-first into everything.”

He looks sheepish. “If you don’t want to—”

I stop him by pressing my lips to his—hard. “I want that. I want that so fucking bad. I love that you jump into what you really want. I love that you don’t fucking hold back when it counts.”

He grins, pressing his lips softly to mine, giving me a reverent kiss and resting his head against mine. “I love that you overthink everything. It’s good. I always feel like all our bases are covered.”

“We do seem to balance each other out.”

He stands up, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him toward the bed. “Fuck the food.”

I guess we’re celebrating.