Declan shakes his head. “I don’t want to break your heart.”
“But you can’t promise you won’t,” I say, and he sighs, maybe knowing I’m right. “And I don’t know how to have both. I don’t know how to feel the way I do when I’m with you”— I grab at my shirt like I’m clutching my heart—“and to have the game, as well. I’m too afraid of what will happen when baseball starts again because I think I could be lost in you.” This time I reach for his face, hold him hard. “If I spend the off-season with you like I want to, I think I would fall so far in love with you I’d never come out.”
His sigh is laced with pain and regret, tinged with this wild longing too.
“I’d give everything to you,” I say. “I’d never love baseball the way I need to.” I hear desperation in my voice and can’t help it. “And I need to, Deck. Not just for me, but also for this.” I let go of him to gesture to my phone on the table.
He frowns in confusion. “Your phone?”
I shake my head. “Social media. I’ve got queer kids reaching out to me. Gay teens telling me their story. Athletes coming out for the first time. It’s insane and awesome and inspiring.” I sound impassioned, like I’m giving a speech, maybe because I am. “I don’t want to fail them. I don’t want to be a one-hit wonder. I know I’m not the only gay pro athlete, but I’m loud and I’m vocal, and I talk about LGBTQ issues online. Rights, equality, all of that.”
I have to take a breath before I can go on, speaking more gently but intently too. “I am so damned grateful you paved this path, Deck. You and other gay athletes. But I’m walking it now too, in a way that means something to me—doing work, speaking up, being a voice. And I want to matter outside of myself. I want to represent something to others. I want to succeed at the highest level to show the world that a gay guy can play ball just as well as a straight one. I want to be remembered for how I played, not just who I loved.”
He nods as he listens, inhaling deeply, exhaling heavily, resigned. “It’s love or baseball.”
I shrug helplessly. “Yeah, it is.”
“And you’re choosing baseball.”
“I can’t choose anything else,” I say, trying to get him to understand.
Declan’s dark eyes shine as he swallows roughly. He shakes his head and grabs my hand, squeezing it. “You don’t have to explain,” he says, with potholes of emotion in his voice. “I understand. I don’t like it”—he draws a deep, hard breath like he needs it to finish without choking up—“but I respect it. I get it, and I get you. Completely.”
I hate that I’ve hurt him even as he accepts the decision. But I’d hate myself if I didn’t make this decision.
Neither one of us says anything for a while. Maybe there’s nothing more to say. Finally, I rise, grab my phone, and head to the door.
Declan follows me, standing nearby as I put on my shoes and grab my jacket. He looks like he just lost the World Series. I bet I look the same way.
Probably worse, because with baseball, there’s always next year.
I don’t think love works like that.
But maybe love works like this. “By the way, you want to know how to hit a slider?”
He tilts his head, question marks in his eyes. “Sure.”
“Don’t swing at it so much. It’s a pitcher’s pitch. Track it the whole way to the plate. If it’s a slider, chances are it’ll fall on the corner and you won’t need to swing, anyway. Only swing if it’s a strike,” I say.
“Thanks for the tip.” He pins me with his intense gaze, taking me in like it’s for the last time. “Goodbye, rookie.”
“Goodbye, Deck,” I say.
Then he leans in, brushes the softest kiss to my lips, and lets me go.
I walk down the hall, a thousand-pound weight camped out in my chest, my mind screaming go back, go back, go back.
But I listen to my gut—to the instinct that tells me to get in the elevator and go.
To leave the first man I ever loved.
And hope the other love of my life doesn’t abandon me.
The Next Few Days and Over the Next Several Years
20
Grant
I have no time to breathe during the next few days.
After I finish a morning of meetings with the Alliance about the work I’ll be doing for the organization, Haven takes me on a whirlwind tour around the city. For the rest of the week, it’s coffee with an athletic gear company near Columbus Circle, lunch in Midtown with a shoe company, then a dinner with another shoemaker and a breakfast the next day with a cell phone company.