Page 22 of Switch Hitter

Mike is nearby, adjusting his chest protector straps even though we’re not in full gear, because he’s always doing something with his hands when he’s listening. His eyes flick to Brooks like, “Don't.”

Brooks ignores him, obviously.

Jake strolls over too, calm like a threat. “Leave him alone,” he says mildly.

“Y’all are no fun.”

Jake’s mouth twitches. “Good.”

Kai comes roaring into the conversation like he heard the word “fun” and took it personally. “What are we talking about?”

“Sean’s mystery lover,” Brooks says immediately.

I flip him off so hard my arm should dislocate.

Kai’s eyes light up like fireworks. “OH.”

Gael appears behind Kai, shaking his head like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion. Jackson and Andres aren’t far behind, walking together, Andres’ hand briefly brushing Jackson’s hand.

Love is simple when it comes to them. Best friends that somehow went from fucking women together to, “You’re my person.”

My stomach twists.

Kai points at me. “Is it the Mets guy?”

My blood turns ice cold. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Gael’s head snaps up. “Kai.”

Jackson’s brows lift, and Andres’ gaze turns sharp. Brooks is delighted.

“What Mets guy?” Brooks asks, like he’s inhaling gossip through a straw.

I force a laugh that comes out wrong. “You all are fucking insane.”

“That’s not an answer.” Kai grins, leaning against the opening.

“I’m not answering that bullshit question,” I snap.

Andres steps in then, with a calm voice and serious eyes. “You don’t have to answer. But you do have to eat.”

“What?” I blink like I can’t believe what he just said. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Andres’ gaze flicks down to my hands, to the way I’ve been clenching my glove like it’s a weapon. “You’re running on fumes.”

Jackson nods once, like he agrees without saying it. “You look like shit, Sean.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I guess.”

“That’s love,” Jackson says.

Brooks snorts. “We’re all very loving.”

Mike finally speaks, quiet but firm. “Brooks.”

“Fine. I’ll be good.” Brooks sighs like he’s being oppressed.

He isn’t. He never is.