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His father handed the phone back. “And you didn’t tell us. We’ll discuss that when you’re not in crisis.”

“Dad.”

“What?” he said innocently before laughing. His father opened the new box of screws and dug a screwdriver out of the junk drawer. Gavin stood to hold the door steady as his father removed a loose hinge. After a minute, his father looked at him. “Are you staying?”

Gavin ran his thumb along the edge of the cabinet. He could stay. His parents would feed him and find small jobs for him, and he could sleep in his childhood bedroom. Nobody here would ask him for more than that. But Dom hadn’t asked for much except for Gavin to wait one fucking minute.

“No,” Gavin said. “I’m going back.”

His father nodded and reached for the screws. “Good.”

Gavin adjusted the door while his father secured the hinge in a new spot. “I don’t know how to explain what happened without it sounding like an excuse.”

“Just tell him what happened and let him tell you how he feels about it.”

“He’s going to be angry.” Gavin stepped back while his dad tested the hinge.

“Probably.”

Gavin almost smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You wanted me to sugarcoat it?”

“A little bit would have been nice.” Gavin did smile this time.

His father turned to lean against the counter and crossed his arms. He studied Gavin for a minute, then sighed. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, son. I didn’t like it with Ethan, and I don’t like it now.” He paused, and Gavin knew he was trying to find the right words. “From what you told us, though, you hurt that young man too.”

“I know.”

He looked down at the floor. He could already imagine Dom telling him how badly he’d fucked up. The urge to explain himself before Dom finished would be there. So would the urge to leave before he heard something he didn’t want to hear.

“So let him be angry.” His father put a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed, and Gavin leaned into it for a moment.

He took his phone out. Dom still hadn’t replied, and Gavin checked the time. He’d be at the ballpark by now, getting ready for the game. It was one of the first things Dom had told him when they’d started dating: sometimes he couldn’t answer, even when he wanted to. Gavin had never minded. He opened their conversation.

Gavin

I’m driving back tomorrow. I’d like to come over and talk, if you’ll let me.

I should be in San Diego around 6 tomorrow night.

He sent it before he could talk himself out of it.

After dinner, his father turned on the Barracudas game, and Gavin made himself comfortable next to him on the couch. He’d watched plenty of games since meeting Dom, sometimes at home while he worked on estimates, sometimes in pieces on his phone, propped against a paint can at a job site. Dom had offered to get him a ticket more than once, and Gavin had always laughed it off and changed the subject. He knew Dom hadn’t announced his sexuality to the world, but he didn’t hide it either, and that was part of the problem. A seat in the family section meant sitting among the wives and girlfriends of Dom’s teammates, and everyone would understand exactly who he was there for. Gavin hadn’t been sure he was ready to share something that still felt like it belonged to the two of them.

Dom’s name ran across the bottom of the screen, followed by stats Gavin could recite off the top of his head. Then the camera found him at first base, and Gavin stopped looking at the numbers.

For the first inning, nothing much happened near him, but when Dom came up to bat, Gavin sat up straighter. Dom let the first pitch go by for a ball, swung through the second, fouled off another, then watched the last one cross the plate. The umpire called him out, and Gavin’s knee bounced as Dom walked back to the dugout. He knew better than to let one at-bat worry him. He’d heard Dom complain enough about people who did.

In the third inning, a routine fly ball went toward him. Dom moved under it, lifting his glove, and for a moment, Gavin relaxed. Then the ball glanced off the glove and dropped behind him.

“Shit.” Gavin was on the edge of the cushion as Dom turned to chase it. By the time he got to the ball, the runner stood on second. The broadcast replayed the missed catch on a loop, and Gavin had to look down at his hands until it was over.

The second error came two innings later, in the top of the fifth inning. Dom fielded a single and threw toward third. The throw sailed past the third baseman and a runner scored. Gavin chewed on his thumbnail while the announcers talked about Dom having a rough night. The camera cut to Dom at first base, cap pulled low as he punched his glove.

Dom should have been up to bat first in the bottom of the inning, but the team sent out another player. The camera cut to the dugout and found Dom sitting at the far end of the bench with his forearms on his thighs. CJ sat beside him, one hand briefly settling between his shoulders until Dom nodded without looking up.

Gavin leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling.