Immoral by Nicole Dykes
I’mon my usual high after a concert, but it’s coupled with nerves when I walk into the dressing room backstage and immediately look around for my phone. Ryan’s meeting with the LA baseball team was today.
It was hours ago, but with the fucking time difference and sound checks, I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. My mind has been on him all day. My body and mind have been strung out with nervous energy, needing to know the next move.
I was completely serious when I asked him to move in with me. I want it to happen. And at this point, if he isn’t moving to LA, I’m moving back to Kansas City. I don’t really give a fuck where my address is as long as it’s the same as Ryan’s.
The idea of sharing a roof with him is all-consuming for me now. It’s all I think about. And I want it.
I find my phone and see a text from him, telling me to give him a call when I can. Apparently, I’m dick-whipped because I immediately call him. And he must be equally whipped because he answers right away. I’m graced with his beautiful face and his tired, but happy, eyes. “Hey, finally found time for me, huh, rockstar?”
I laugh and settle into the sofa in the dressing room. “And what about you? Are you a former professional baseball player or still a current one?”
He’s sitting in bed, shirtless with disheveled hair, and if I had to guess, I’d say he’d been asleep before I called. “Current.”
I don’t bother hiding the grin that’s so wide it feels like my cheeks are going to split. “Contract?”
“Signed. With Bennett.”
Relief washes over me. “How many years?”
“Three.” God, he looks happy. “And twice what KC was struggling to pay. I’m set.”
“Good. And the fans?”
His muscles pull tight as he shrugs and looks adorably guilty, yet still sure of his decision. “They’ll be pissed we’re leaving. I’m okay with it though. I’ve paid my dues.”
“You’ve committed no crime.” I have to throw in some “Bohemian Rhapsody” lyrics.
He rolls his eyes. “Always about Queen with you, huh? Why don’t you stick to your own lyrics?”
I laugh. “Don’t you know it’s impossible to write a good song when you’re happy, Bailey?”
“I’ve really fucked you over, huh?”
“You really did. You owe me.”
“Want me to break your heart?”
“Hell, no.” I don’t even hesitate. “You’re never getting away from me now.”
“Sounds stalkery.”
I chuckle. “I’ll find you.”
He shakes his head, raising one arm in the air to yawn, and I sit back to bask in the arm porn. If I sensed any hesitance at all in him, I’d question him about wanting to move, but I only see happiness and relief on his handsome face. “So, when are you coming to me?”
He laughs, and God, I’ve missed that sound. How the hell did I go seven years without that sound? “I don’t have to be at spring training until the middle of February. So, I’m yours until then.”
“You’re fucking mine always. When do you move in?”
Again, with the fucking gorgeous laughter. “Whenever you’re ready for me. You seem pretty busy though.”
I run my fingers through my hair, content. More content than I’ve ever been in my life. The love of my life is happy with his career and is moving in with me. “You want me to cancel this fucking tour right now?” Waylon walks inside my room, not even slightly bothered by our conversation as he takes a seat next to me. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh, he will,” Waylon says dramatically, waving at Ry. “Hey Ryan. How did it go?”
He walked into only the last part of our conversation, and even though he walked in when I offered to cancel my tour, he seems happy. My guess is he already talked to Jen-nay.
Ryan sits up further in the bed, and I get lost in the view of his chiseled pecs for a moment before he answers, “No. I don’t want you to cancel, dumbass. I’m coming to you. We’ll figure out the whole moving thing whenever.”
“Actually, I’m coming to you in two days.”
“Is that so?”
Waylon confirms, having no problem butting into our conversation like the brother I never wanted but am glad I now have. “Yup. Kansas City. Three nights.”
Ryan’s eyes do a happy celebration while the rest of him remains cool and collected. “Well, alright then. I’ll leave the light on for you, Grady.”
“You fucking better, Bailey. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
And I mean it. None of this is easy. He doesn’t want to hide anymore, and I get that. But it doesn’t mean any of this is going to be easy, regardless of his new team seemingly being cool with it.
The world still has a ways to go.
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
“I love you both,” Waylon sings, and we all laugh before I hang up with Ryan.
He’s moving in with me in LA. We’re going to share not only a zip code but an address, and I finally feel whole.
After seven years of trying to figure out the source of this emptiness inside me, despite having what the world would say was everything, I found the missing piece.
And I’m not letting him go.
