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Chapter 1
Liam
I’m going to fuck my stepfather. He doesn’t know it yet, but it’s going to happen.
Jonathan Ryan married my father when I was almost seventeen. Their marriage was out of convenience, I figure. Given that they rarely touched each other, and Jonathan had been my father’s best friend for over ten years before they were suddenly eloping in Vegas. A year later, dad disappeared, and Jonathan became my guardian.
Going on eighteen years old, I decided that dad forfeited his rights to the man, and that I had every right to claim him for myself. He’s a good man, though. Too good to be seduced easily. So I’ve been laying the groundwork, low and slow like a pro.
Now at nineteen, nearly twenty, I’m his star player on theRocket City University Vipers. Baseball isn’t my passion, but all of the hours getting sweaty with my coach—my Jonathan—thatI’m passionate about. Only a sophomore in college, I have major league prospects, but I’m not sure that I’m ready to leave my precious coach. Slamming big hits can’t be as satisfying if he’s not cheering me on when I do it.
If I leave, that means significantly less time with him. No job, professional athlete or not, is worth losing even a little bit of time with my man. And that’s what he is, whether he’s been made aware or not. Jonathan is my man.
Currently, he’s also trying not to choke me out for taunting our opposing team’s pitcher. Technically, the scumbag started it this time. Giving Tommy disgusted looks, as if I wouldn’t notice. My best friend is off limits, especially to this closeted hateful prick.
Internalized shit is rough, I get it. But he picked the wrong person to fixate on. Tommy is too pure for any of this shit. Even if it’s minimal. It’s there, and if I could snuff it out by pummeling him to the ground, I would.
So yeah, I’m going to fuck my daddy’s husband. But first, I’m going to send this ball into the motherfucking stratosphere.
Words have been had, and our coaches are currently talking it out at the mound by our sides. But Williams won’t let it die. He never does.
He sneers at my hands. “Nice nail polish, Hawkins. Your girlfriend do that for you?”
I’m not even in the stands and I know Tommy just stiffened. He always hears things that he shouldn’t.
“Better watch your mouth, dick for brains.”
“Yeah? What are you going to do to make me, asshole?”
I wish I could just kick your ass.
“I’m going to wrap mypaintedfingers around this fucking bat, and then I’m going to make your shitty pitch look like a little league throw by smashing it all the way out to your bus. The bus that you get to sit on, crying all the way home while I text your mom about the next time she’d like to come warm my cock.”
He attempts to lunge at me, only to be held back by his scowling coach.
“Oh that’s right, isn’t yourmentorbanging her too? Shit, sorry you had to find out this way, buddy.” I’m winking at him as Jonathan sighs, tugging my arm back.
I let him move me, walking backwards as I continue stare down that douchebag Williams.
“Was all of that necessary?” he asks, mumbling about it. His gentle brown eyes settle on my face, studying me with a detailed precision. He loves to look at me, my man. He does it all the time. Constantly giving me the pleasure of feeling his gaze on my skin.
“No, but it was fun,” I say sweetly, admiring his lips and the curve of his cheek bones. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually tapping his mom. She looks exactly like him.” I shiver with disgust. “Poor woman, she was probably a looker before he came around and ruined it for her.”
He doesn’t laugh, but I see that lip twitch. “You about done?”
“I could go another round if you’re up for it,” I tease.
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head, his dark wavy hair swaying just a little. “Just end this game, will you?”
I give him a two finger salute. “Aye, aye, coach.”
Williams, ever the weasel-faced fuck, attempts to hit me with the ball and force a walk, but I refuse, dodging the hell out of his throws until he sends a decent one close to the center. It’s all over from there with the crack of the bat and the soar of the baseball through the air.
The crowd goes loud and wild, and I take the bases, not bothering to gloat. Normally, I’d take my time shoving a win down Williams’ throat, but I have to make sure my friend is okay. Nothing detrimental was said, but it’s about more than just words. It’s about Tommy being a vessel for a weaker, struggling person’s hate for themselves. Something no one deserves, let alone my sunshine boy.
Luckily, he’s only experienced this twice, and he’ll never have to again. Williams will be gone—graduated—and I won’t have to worry about him saying something that will cross a line far enough for me to start digging his grave. I donotlook good in orange. Despite what Netflix tells you, it is certainly not thenew black.
I tap home plate with the bottom of my cleat and dart for the stands. Jonathan doesn’t look surprised, nor does he try to stop me.Anotherreason that he’s my man. He just gets me.
