Page 77 of Hiding in the Outfield

Jackson swallows, dabs his mouth with his napkin like he’s all refined and wasn’t just inhaling what’s on his plate. He lifts his water at me, blue eyes shining. “Compliments to the chef.”

“I helped!” Shane pouts.

“You did a lovely job putting together the salads, babe.” Jed sends Shane an indulgent smile.

“Putting together the salads…” Shane grumbles. “Tossed arugula salad with candied walnuts—which I candied from scratch—and caprese salad with a balsamic reduction are not just putting together the salads.” He humphs and shoots Jed a look that promises retribution.

Amusement buzzes around in my chest. Jed loves teasing Shane. I think he loves when Shane gets all worked up and offended. Probably because it brings out the brat in our lovable golden retriever.

“They came out fantastic, Shaney-babe. You know there’s no one else I’d trust in my kitchen other than you.” I blow him a kiss.

He catches it and brings it to his chest. Then he draws a heart in the air with his pointer fingers. “Love you,” he mouths.

An appreciative hum comes from the other end of the table, this time from Maddy. “Fuuuuck. Frankie, what the fucking magic did you put in this? I’m with Jackson, shit is boner-popping.”

I swirl my wine and smile. “What can I say? Frankie’s bolognese brings all the boys to the yard.”

A few more nom-nom moans come from the table. I sigh. Happy happy happy. I love having them all here. I wish I could keep them here forever. My gaze slips over to Jackson. But they’ll be off to bigger and better things before long. The amount of talent sitting at this table is almost staggering.

My stare passes over them until it clashes with my brother’s. He glances Jackson’s way, and his lips flatten; then he looks back at me, expression unreadable. Except I know what it means when his face goes blank like that. He’s worried.

I stick my tongue out at him. I love you.

His lips twitch. I love you too.

No matter the distance, we’ll always be Chessie and Pao Pao. Best friends and brothers.

After dinner, while everyone else is cleaning up, Paulie drags me up to my room. Time to find out what that look earlier was all about.

Paulie points to my bed, and I sit obediently. He plops down next to me and lets out a huge breath. Well, based on that, this conversation will be fun.

“Frankie…”

I slump. I know that tone. Not this again. “What, Paulie? I’m tired of you hating on Jackson. I get it. Shitty things happened. He was partly responsible. He made shitty choices. But it was my face that got broken, and it was my decision whether I wanted to forgive him or not.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

I throw up my arms. “Then why? Because you were giving me a face at dinner. You keep eyeing Jackson like you’re plotting his murder. And frankly, that would be a horrible decision because you and the Clippers need him if you want any shot at the second-half winner spot.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Chessie.” The words are so soft I barely hear them.

I open and close my mouth. “I already told⁠—”

“Not because of bigots or whatever. I thought…” He tenses next to me. “I thought this was, like, only physical between you two. I thought it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. But you’re acting like boyfriends. Sleeping together most nights? Cuddling on the couch? Cooking together? And what the fuck was that in the kitchen earlier? That’s not a casual hookup.”

I scrub my face with my hands and groan. “Pao Pao, you just need to trust me, okay? This is the first time Jackson’s been given the opportunity to be with another guy. To be himself. To have friends he can trust and be open with. It’s never been only about sex with him.”

Paulie’s eyes go wide.

Urgh. How do I explain this?

“That doesn’t mean what you think it does. When he told me what he wanted—and he did not ask me to be this person, by the by, I offered—he said he wanted someone to experience firsts with who he felt safe and comfortable with. I’m his only opportunity to get that.” I clench my fists, a deep ache radiating through my chest.

“He can feel what it’s like to have a boyfriend. God, Pao Pao, I was his first kiss with a man. His first kiss, which ended in fucking catastrophe. That would be enough to scare anyone back into the depths of the closet. The man deserves this after being bottled up for so long. It fucking pains me.”

I draw in a calming breath and try to cool my agitation. When I finally think I can speak, I say, “You know how this kind of thing kills me. Mom and Dad have always loved us, every single thing about us. My queerness is just another beautiful part of me to them. That’s how it should be. And, I don’t know, in some weird way I feel like I can give some of that love to Jackson by doing this. You don’t get it, Pao. Parents, siblings, families decide they won’t love us any longer simply because of who we love.”

Paulie looks away, but not before I see a hint of guilt flash across his features.