I was more relaxed than I’d been all season by the time Mason and Bill dropped me off in front of the hotel. I wanted desperately to kiss Mason goodbye, but that was out of the question for multiple reasons. Besides the fact that it wasn’t a secret where we stayed when we were in town and there could be photographers or fans lurking in the shadows, I had to remember that any of my teammates could come walking up the sidewalk at any moment. And if that wasn’t enough to deflate the semi I’d been trying to hide most of the morning, Bill was waiting at the passenger’s door for me to vacate his seat. He’d been cool so far about the whole loud sex in the bathroom, but I wasn’t about to press my luck with him.

He offered me his hand as I stepped out of Mason’s bright yellow Jeep Rubicon. “It was good seeing you again, Sean,” Bill said sincerely. I stiffened when he pulled me in for a hug, mostly because I wasn’t used to parents being openly affectionate. The Tucker household was much more one where love was known but not shown. He kept his voice low as he gave me the only advice I was going to get regarding whatever was or wasn’t happening with his son. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Mason. You’re both good kids and you deserve to be happy. That being said, you both have a lot on the line, so you need to beware of that. Don’t be a stranger.”

He thumped me on the back and sent me on my way. I waved over my shoulder as I walked into the lobby of the hotel. Jason was sitting on one of the plush couches waiting for me. “I was starting to think Mason had tied you up and thrown you in the basement,” he kidded. “You sure look like you’re in a better mood today. Did Mason take you out to get your mind off life for a bit?”

Oh, if he only knew… But I couldn’t tell Jason how much Mace helped me without my cheeks flushing, thinking about how he’d helped improve my mood. “Nah, we stayed in, played some video games, and I gave him a hard time about his bitch of an ex-wife. You know, normal shit for a change. I’m going to run up and change. I’ll be back down in a few.”

I rushed up to my room, knowing that the bus would be pulling up out front in about ten minutes. It was stupid of me to stay out all night, but it wasn’t like anyone would say anything since my body felt better than it had in a long time. Mason had to have the most comfortable bed on the market, or maybe it was having Mason curled up against my back all night that made it possible for me to wake up so rested.

The team bus pulled into the park shortly after two in the afternoon. Unconsciously, I found myself scanning the parking lot in search of Mason’s Jeep. It stood out like a beacon, and I smiled at the thought that we were both here. Yeah, it was cheesy, but I didn’t care. As always, we sat down for a team meal before the rest of the guys headed out to stretch while I made my way to the training room for a rub down. I wasn’t nearly as stiff as I typically was the day after a road start, but I still groaned as the trainer massaged the kinks out of my shoulder and arm.

I had to keep reminding myself that no matter what else was going on outside the training room, I had a routine I needed to follow. Some people thought that being a pitcher was easy work since I only had to show up on the field once every five days and work for a few hours, but the truth was that the work never stopped. And if I threw my carefully crafted schedule out the window so I could get into the outfield early to help with batting practice, I’d be paying for it later.

I turned on a playlist as I started working on the elliptical. There were a lot of exercises I wouldn’t be able to do since Chicago’s visitor’s facility was rather sparse, but I’d still get a decent workout. As I fell into a steady lope, I reminded myself that after this series and a few days in Boston I’d be back to all the comforts of home.

Fans were starting to trickle into the park by the time I made my way to the outfield. Being so close to home, there were a number of families who’d driven down for the day, and I was reminded that there was more to the game than winning or losing when I saw a little boy waving wildly at me as I approached. I hated to admit it, but had I been pitching today, I would have likely kept my head down and kept walking with a casual wave so I wouldn’t break my concentration. Lucky for him, I wasn’t, so I took a moment to walk over to the end of the Bulldogs’ dugout.

“Hey man, thanks for coming out today,” I greeted the kid, who couldn’t have been much more than nine or ten. “You going to help me cheer for the Mavericks?”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” he stammered, flashing me a grin full of teeth that looked too big for his mouth. “C-c-can I g-get a p-picture with you?”

A few older kids had noticed me near the railing and were making their way down. I didn’t want to be a prick, but Stu would have a conniption if I didn’t get to work. “Yeah, but we have to hurry. If I don’t get out there, they’ll boot me to the curb,” I said jokingly.

“They c-c-could never do that, Mr. Tucker. You’re the b-b-best!” I wasn’t so sure about that, but it was nice to hear all the same. The kid turned around and leaned against the railing so his father could snap a picture with his phone. As I said goodbye to the kid, his dad mouthed a quick thank you and they were off.

“Aww, that was cute,” a familiar voice chortled from the dugout. I looked to my right and saw Mason leaning on the railing, watching me.

“Don’t you think you should get some batting practice in?” I scolded. “Dobson is on the mound today, and you didn’t do so hot yesterday.”

It did make me feel slightly better that Mason hadn’t gotten a hit off me. He might have been the only Bulldog who hadn’t gotten on base while I was on the mound.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty sure you used insider information against me.” We both laughed loud enough to get the attention of one of his teammates. “I’d better get to it. Some of us actually have to work today.”

“Jealous?” I asked.

“Maybe a little,” he responded with a crooked smile.

There was so much more I wanted to say to him, namely I wanted to find out if we were going to get together again tonight, but I couldn’t ask that now. It was foolish of me not to think of asking when we were at breakfast or in the car. I’d have to settle for sending him a text message before heading back to the hotel and sitting around waiting for him to get through with his post-game ritual. He’d been the last player out of the park since we were in the minors, and probably would be until the day he retired.

The entire team looked better during warm-ups. It gave me confidence that we’d manage to pull a win out of our asses to take the series, otherwise, it’d come down to tomorrow’s game. Losing always sucked, but none of us wanted to have a series loss to Chicago early in the season hanging over our heads.

Unfortunately, the Bulldogs seemed to have the same idea we did, and it was rough first few innings. Every time we scored a run, they’d answer in the bottom of the inning. Our saving grace was a two-run homerun by Ricky White in the top of the seventh to put the Mavericks up by three heading into the seventh inning stretch. Tommy Randall pitched the game of his career trying to hold onto the save but the Bulldogs fought that much harder. With a win for Chicago, the series was tied at one all.

I kept to myself in the locker room, carefully avoiding the conversations about plans for the evening. I’m rarely in the mood for a night of drinking, but tonight I had a much better offer on the table. Or at least I hoped I did.

“Tucker, you’re not getting out of this,” Tommy yelled as I reached for the locker room door. “We’re heading straight to the lobby bar when we get back to the hotel.”

All eyes were on me by this point, waiting for me to give them an answer. “Yeah, of course,” I acquiesced. As much as I wanted to spend the night at Mason’s, I knew it’d draw far too much attention if I tried to bail on the guys.

I made my way out to the bus and sent Mason a message letting him know there was no way I’d be able to meet up tonight. His response was quick and understanding. He quickly sent a follow-up message, telling me to set my alarm for eight and he’d meet me for breakfast. I considered telling him it’d be reckless for us to be seen together in public, but then I considered the fact that we’d done the same thing almost every time our teams had met up over the years. Regardless of what happened last night, we were friends, and friends shared meals.

Jason slumped into the seat next to me at the back of the bus, leaning in to look at my phone. “Aww, aren’t you two cute, sending messages back and forth as soon as the game ended,” he teased. My cheeks flushed and I started wracking my brain, trying to figure out how to deflect his attention. “I’m glad he came down last night and you got away for a bit. You’ve been tense for a while, and I know you and Eric were close.”

He knew? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. If Jason knew, who else had also figured it out? The longer I sat trying to stave off a panic attack, the more I realized the reaction was in my head. The idea of someone finding out I was gay still worried me, but it wasn’t as terrifying if I thought of Mason having my back. That wound up being the thought that nearly sent me over the edge.

“I mean, Henderson’s a pain in the ass and I had to wear ear plugs to get any sleep because of his snoring, but it’d be weird to not have him in the other bed,” he rambled, unaware of my anxiety. Okay, maybe he didn’t know, but he’d figure it out if the paranoia kept up. “Not to mention the fact that you’re going to have to break in a new roommate once we get to Boston. You might want to call it an early night and enjoy the peace and quiet, just in case you get a loudmouth who never shuts up.”

“You mean like you?” I quipped, only half-joking. I chewed on Jason’s words for a moment, wondering if there was talk of more shuffling that I hadn’t heard. It seemed obvious to me that I’d be paired up with Kevin Green, seeing as he was the outfielder brought up to bring some power to our batting lineup. “And I’d already planned on turning in after one drink, two tops. Mason’s parents are in town and his mom wants to go to breakfast tomorrow.”

I was an idiot. Now, I had no choice but to get in touch with Mason and let him know our breakfast for two was now going to be a family affair.

Everyone rushed off the bus and up to their rooms to change the minute the bus was parked. Stu hollered after us to be smart and not stay out all night since tomorrow’s game was an early one. His warnings likely fell on deaf ears because everyone was pumped and ready to get stupid. I lingered in my seat, waiting for everyone else to make their way down the steps. Stu placed a hand on my shoulder as I walked past him.

“Tucker, are you heading down to the bar?”

“For a little while, yeah, but I planned on making it an early night.” Besides breakfast, tomorrow was bullpen day, which meant I was going to be pushing my body much harder than I did today.

“We need more guys like you on the team, Tucker,” he praised, giving my shoulder a paternal squeeze. “I don’t expect you to stay out until the last kid goes up to his room, but keep an eye on them tonight, okay?”

“You got it,” I assured him. He released me and I jogged down the steps before he asked anything else of me.

With my shoulders slumped forward, I sulked my way through the lobby, even less in the mood to join the guys than I had been a few minutes ago. The last time Stu had asked me to help keep an eye on the younger guys, I’d wound up so hung over I could barely function the next day. No way could I let that happen tonight.

Once I was safely inside my room, I scrolled through my contacts to give Mason a quick call. We were accustomed to going months without seeing one another, and yet tonight it weighed heavily on my mind that we were in the same city but not going to be able to meet up.

“You’ve reached Mason. I’m either busy or ignoring your call. If you leave a message, you’ll figure out which when I either call you back or don’t.” I laughed at the blunt outgoing message on Mason’s voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me,” I started, smacking myself in the forehead because I was fumbling to find something to say. “I hope you’re just busy, because it’d suck to find out you’re ignoring me. Anyway, I was calling to let you know I’m heading down to the lobby bar. If you wanted to swing by with your mom and dad, that’d be cool. Oh, and speaking of, I might have mentioned to Jason that I’m having breakfast with you and your parents tomorrow. I know it sucks, but I promise I’ll make it up to you soon for blowing our date. Hell, can breakfast even be considered a date? I don’t know. And while you said you were cool with neither of us looking for something else, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re up for dating. Okay, well now I’m rambling, so I guess I’ll shut up now. I’m beginning to think you’re a bad influence.”

God, I sounded like a giddy teenage girl. I’m not sure there was another man alive who had this effect on me. Then again, I imagined I wasn’t much different than those girls when the captain of the football team asked them out.

Okay, time to drink before you totally turn into a chick, I chided myself mentally. I quickly changed into a pair of form-fitting jeans and a tight green Henley.

Once back downstairs, I settled into a corner booth with a few of the married players. They’d occasionally give Jason and me a hard time for being the token bachelors allowed into their little club, but then I’d remind them that we were the old-timers and that usually shut them right up.

“Tucker, are you ever going to settle down? It’s gotta suck going home to that big, empty house when you get off the road,” Dobson asked as the waitress delivered a round of shots. She set one in front of each of us, offering me a flirtatious smile and a wink. Wrong tree, sweetheart.

“It’s not so bad,” I lied. The truth was, I hated going home for that exact reason. After the initial slap in the face provided by the dark, silent rooms, the quiet wasn’t so bad for a while. I did enjoy being able to do what I wanted when I wanted without anyone telling me to do something else, but I’d have gladly given that up in order to have someone to curl up on the couch with to watch a movie, or even someone to cook a simple dinner with.

“No, but it’d be even better if you had something warmer than your hand to keep you company,” Jason chimed in. I wasn’t sure how he managed to get out of this ribbing since he also lived alone. Then again, he had an industrial one-bedroom apartment, not a family home in suburbia. It was as though his home made it known that there was no room in his life for a woman.

“I happen to enjoy my hand. We get along, I rarely have to worry about my hand saying no, and I always have a backup,” I stated bluntly, wiggling the fingers on my left hand for effect. We all tipped back our shots and I winced at the burn of the cinnamon whisky on my throat. “Maybe someday I’ll change my mind, but for now my life works. Besides, while you all are worrying about what’s going on at home, I can keep putting every bit of energy into the game, which is why I’m better than you.”

The table erupted in a series of guffaws and playful jabs. It was almost enough to keep me from thinking about the tight knot in my gut, which was the real reason why I’d never considered a steady relationship. Although it was far too early to even think about anything like falling in love with Mason, I could see it happening, and yet I was already denying him to everyone in my life.

Over the past couple of seasons, I had thought about coming out. It wasn’t like I’d be the only professional athlete to do so, not with people like Jason Collins, Robbie Rogers and Michael Sam making very public proclamations. Heck, I wouldn’t even be the first major league baseball player to try sneaking out of the closet, but his experiences meant I had proof that baseball wasn’t the best place for a gay player. Now, I wished for a different reality, one where I didn’t have to pretend there wasn’t someone waiting for me in a much more comfortable bed than the one I’d fall into later.

Another round of drinks appeared at the table, a gift from a group of fans across the room according to our waitress. This time, she leaned in close to me, rubbing her ample chest against my shoulder as she set down the glasses. I didn’t want to make the situation even more uncomfortable than it already was, but with every round she was becoming more brazen and the situation was about a round away from seriously awkward.

“I think she’s sweet on you,” Kevin observed as he leaned against the side of our booth. I rolled my eyes, already unimpressed by the way he seemed to invite himself into our tight-knit group. “You guys have room for one more?”

I wanted to tell him no, that the table was full and we even if there was a seat, it wouldn’t fit him and his inflated ego, but that’d make me look like the dick. Then I’d have to sit down with Stu and listen to a lecture about being a role model for the team when word got back to him. If there was one thing I knew about our coach, it was that he didn’t put up with petty bullshit or hazing the new guys. And as one of his go-to players, Stu Ackerman was even harder on me. Whether I wanted the role or not, he made it no secret that he expected me to set a good example for the rest of the team.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, leaning forward for the pitcher of beer. I might not be able to tell him he couldn’t sit with us, but I’d be damned if I was giving up my seat for him. It was common knowledge that I always sat at the edge because I couldn’t stand being crowded. Besides, we’d get more than enough time together after tomorrow when we became roommates.

“Seriously, are you gonna tap that tonight?” Kevin pressed as he helped himself to a glass of beer. The guy really needed to learn boundaries. He didn’t know me well enough to give me shit about my personal life.

“Nope,” I responded, my lips popping on the word in an attempt to get him to take the hint. Jason cocked one eyebrow, letting me know I was close to crossing the line. I shrugged, feeling just tipsy enough that I didn’t care.

I tried begging off, reminding the guys that I had an early morning and that none of us needed to close down the bar since it was an early afternoon game tomorrow. “Come on, Tucker, don’t be a punk,” Jason teased as he filled my glass.

I glared at him, pissed to be called out in front of everyone. The rest of the guys chimed in and before I knew it, our table was littered with empty shot glasses. Tomorrow was going to hurt. A lot.