And that life is this.
“Okay. I’m going with Matthew McConaughey,” Crosby declares as he lines up his shot.
Chance laughs, tossing his head back, then taking a drink of his beer. “Because that actor’s got as many weird verbal quirks as you do. I bet he even calls people Turkey Burgers and Dick Nuggets.”
“Alright, alright, alright,” Crosby drawls. “I picked the right person to tell my story, then.” He tips his chin to Sullivan. “What about you, my friend?”
“I’m tempted to say Morgan Freeman because everyone wants to say Morgan Freeman, but really, I think I’m going to go with Hugh Jackman,” he says.
Declan cracks up. “You’re not Australian.”
Sullivan jerks his head back. “So what? Hugh Jackman is awesome, isn’t he?”
Declan laughs. “You won’t get any argument from me there.” My boyfriend tosses a glance to me. “And what about you?”
Before I can answer, Sierra sails in with a tray of drinks. “Wait. Is this the ‘who’d narrate my life’ question?”
“You know us so well,” Chance says, flashing her a smile as she hands out the fresh round. “Who’d narrate yours?”
After she gives Chance a beer, she taps her chin, then says, “A badass rock star who doesn’t take shit from anyone.”
She leaves, and Chance’s jaw might be hanging open. That’s Sierra—exiting on a high note.
It’s my turn now. “I’d have to go with Daniel Craig since I’m a fan of James Bond,” I say in my terrible accent.
Declan laughs. “Rookie, you always did suck at the English accents.”
We didn’t plan this moment. We didn’t decide when we’d tell our buds. But as Declan and I lock eyes, we both know—this is it. “So, there’s something we wanted to tell all of you,” I say.
Declan dips his head, laughs slightly, then looks up. “We being him and me,” he clarifies, pointing from him to me.
I set down my pool cue. Declan does the same. I step closer to my guy.
Crosby, Chance, Sullivan, and even Holden have the decency to wipe the I already figured this out when you lost your mind rooting for him at the game expressions off their faces.
“What’s that?” Chance asks like he has no clue, when he clearly has all of them.
Declan swallows and reaches for my hand, linking our fingers. “We’re together,” he says, meeting their eyes. “We wanted you guys to know first. Before the media finds out that we’re living together.”
My heart doesn’t just soar. It takes a rocket-fast trip around the solar system and then lands right back in his hands where it belongs.
“That’s not really all there is to tell, Deck,” I tease him.
He arches a brow. “What did I leave out?”
I point at the guys. “Tell them I’m awesome at cuddling. They doubted me. Last month, before you were back in town, they called me out on it, man.”
Declan laughs, holds his hands out wide, and announces to the crew, “Grant Blackwood is a world-class cuddler.”
I plant a kiss on his stubbly cheek, smacking loudly. “There. Now it’s official. They know.”
Crosby clears his throat, adopting a blank expression. “Thank you for spelling it out. I literally had no idea that Grant was rooting for Declan at the game.”
Chance chimes in next. “We absolutely couldn’t tell that Grant was way more excited than he’s ever been about anyone else on another team hitting in a run.”
Declan wraps his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder hard. “Aw, that’s so cute. You were rooting for your boyfriend even though he plays for the other team?”
I growl at him. “Don’t make me regret cheering you on.”
Sullivan clears his throat. “From the look of it, I don’t think there’s anything Declan would do that would make Grant regret that.”
I heave an aggrieved sigh, but I love how obvious we are. This is the good obvious. “Fine. Fine. You’re all right.”
Holden raises a hand. “I have to know—did this start after the Sports Network Awards? Maybe right around that morning when Grant got that burger from DoorDash?”
I stare, stony-faced, at them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
43
Grant
We don’t stay for long.
On the way home from the Spotted Zebra, Declan’s phone beeps. For a second, I tense.
If it’s not his dad now, I suspect his father will be in touch soon. But we’ll deal with that together.
Declan glances at the text message. “It’s a note from someone at the Alliance. Wants to know if I can go to that carnival this weekend. Do the dunk tank and pie toss as a celebrity guest.”
“Will you do it?”
He nods as he types. “Definitely.”
In the past, Declan has had a different approach to charity, preferring to support with money rather than time. That’s awesome and I love that he puts his wallet toward what matters. But lately, he’s been volunteering, and I can’t deny that it’s so damn sexy to see him step up in a new way.