Page 38 of Switch Hitter

Sean’s head snaps up.

Good, my boy is focused.

“I’m not going to be treated like something you’re ashamed of,” I tell him. “I’m not asking you to come out to the world tomorrow. I’m not asking you to tell your family this week, and I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Sean swallows hard. “Okay…”

“But,” I continue, steady, “I’m asking you to stop with the Houdini shit.”

He bites his lip and stares at me.

“No more attempting to ghost me,” I say. “And no more running after we’re intimate just because the feelings catch up to you.”

Sean’s eyes flick away. “Look, I panicked⁠—”

“Oh, I know,” I say, softer. “But panic can’t be the thing that decides for you every time.”

He nods once, and I lean in slightly, keeping my voice low.

“If you want me,” I say, “then we communicate. We talk. You tell me when you’re scared. You don’t punish yourself and call it faith; that’s bullshit, Sean.”

Sean’s jaw tightens, and I can see him fighting, not me, but himself. Or maybe he’s fighting whatever he was taught to believe. Whatever it is, I hate seeing him struggle with it.

Finally, he exhales and says, raw and quiet, “I do want you.”

The words hit me like a clean strike.

He rushes on before he can stop himself, his voice rough. “I want… this. Whatever the hell this is, I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared of how my family will react.”

I nod, calm, even though something in me feels too full.

“Okay,” I say. “This is honest, and I can work with that.”

Sean’s eyes shine again, furious and vulnerable. “I don’t want to lose them.”

“You might not,” I say. “And even if they struggle for a while, which they might. I’ll be with you.”

Sean’s throat bobs, and I reach across the table, slowly, and rest my hand over his. He doesn’t flinch this time. His fingers curl around mine like he’s holding on. The server shows up a few seconds later with our plates, and it pulls us apart.

We eat, and we talk more in between bites.

Not deep confessions the whole time, just… small things too. What shows we like to watch when we can’t sleep. What music each of us likes to play in the car. How I like my coffee and how he’s never had a good cup of coffee since coming back from a trip to Ireland.

The stupid things that make a relationship feel like a life instead of a crisis.

Back at his apartment, we get inside, and he pauses at the door.

“You locking the deadbolt this time?”

Sean flips me off automatically. “Shut up.”

“Mmm, no, I don’t think I will.” I smirk, my hand brushing his as I pass.

He snorts, but the sound is softer now.

He kicks off his shoes and heads straight for the couch like he’s running out of adrenaline. I follow, keeping distance until he pats the cushion beside him.

I sit, and Sean leans into me slowly, shoulder against mine, like he’s testing whether he’s allowed.