Switch Hitter (11 page)

Chapter Ten

Guilt ate at Bentley, but every time he thought he’d found the words to tell Ashley, they dried in his throat, almost choking him. Fear could be a great motivator, but in his case, it held him captive, robbing him of the ability to speak.

The team returned to town for a ten game home stand. Thanks to their crazy schedules, he managed to avoid Ashley for three days.

“I’ve been busy,” was his answer to her tearful questioning of his absence. She had every right to be upset. What kind of man didn’t put his fiancée first when he’d been out of town?

“You could have answered your phone,” she argued. “I’ve been busy, too, but I found time to leave you messages.”

Excuses died on his lips. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m an ass.”
Truer words were never spoken.
“But I’m here now.”

She melted into his embrace. When she turned her tear-streaked face up to him, all he wanted to do was make the hurt go away—for both of them.

He kissed her, angling his mouth across hers in a flash of heat guaranteed to fan the flames of desire. God, he wanted her, couldn’t imagine not being with her. He moved his hands over her back, to her ass, hauling her up against his hardening cock. Tearing one hand away from her firm backside, he palmed her breast. Moaning, she squirmed against him. In his lust-fueled mind, he took her actions to mean she wanted more. He closed his fingers over her and squeezed.

“Ouch!” Ashley broke the kiss, pushing away from him.

Stunned by the pain on her face and the way she’d brought her arms up to cover herself, he reached for her. “What? Did I hurt you? Oh, God. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

Holy shit
. Had his being with Sean caused him to forget what it was like to hold a woman? He mentally kicked himself for not tempering his strength. “I’m sorry.” He held his hand out in supplication. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She looked at him with clear eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the pain had eased.

“I know, Bentley.” She took a deep breath then let it out, straightening her shoulders as she did so. “I’m glad I caught up to you today.”

She reached out to him. He grasped her fingers, relieved to see she still trusted him—though God knew he hadn’t earned it. Guilt over his betrayal loosened his tongue.

“Ashley—”

“No talking.” She tugged him forward. “I’ve missed you. Make love to me, please?”

Like the low-down, lying, cheating ass he was, he followed her up the stairs to the bedroom.

* * *

Bentley needed to get his head in the game.

You are such a fucked up coward. You don’t deserve her. God knows she doesn’t deserve a fucked up mess like you, but she’s stuck with you now.

Jogging out to left field, he pulled his sunglasses off the bill of his cap, settling them into place where they belonged. His focus was shit today.

He’d taken the coward’s way out last night, making love to Ashley instead of telling her about Sean, and now he was glad he hadn’t said anything. Their conversation this morning made it clear he’d waited too long.

She’d looked so damn sweet, standing there in the kitchen wearing nothing but the rumpled T-shirt with his number on it she liked to sleep in and a bad case of bed head. He’d been tempted to scoop her up to the counter then fuck her senseless. It still amazed him how much he wanted her, considering.

“Good morning,” he’d said from his perch at the bar. The Mustangs were playing the Marauders at one o’clock, which meant he needed to be at the stadium in a few hours. He was capable of making his own breakfast, so he’d let her sleep. She’d seemed particularly tired last night after their lovemaking. Coward that he was, he’d been damn grateful for the reprieve when she’d curled up beside him and gone to sleep.

“Morning.” She shuffled around, getting a glass from the cabinet then pouring herself orange juice from the jar in the refrigerator before sitting on the stool next to him.

“You okay? You conked out early last night. Are you coming down with something?”

He picked up the slice of toast he’d been eating while checking the news on his iPad then slid the plate containing the extra slice toward her. She helped herself.

“I’m fine. Just tired. We’ve been working on some new programming ideas. The whole process is making me crazy. I’ve been at the office late every night you’ve been gone.”

“You should take a day off, get some rest.”

“I can’t. At least not right now.” She bit into the slice of toast, chewed and swallowed. “On top of everything going on at work, my mother is bugging me about setting a date for the wedding. She’s thinking about fall or winter—in the off-season. I think a winter wedding sounds fun. We’d have to hustle to get it all done, but the right planner could make it happen. What do you think?”

I think I’m screwed.
He smiled. “Whatever you want, babe.”

You are a lying, sniveling coward, Bentley Randolph.

The crack of the bat hitting the ball jerked his attention back to the game. Instinct took over. He tracked the ball, a grounder to the right side of the field. No play for him, but he moved toward third base anyway, just in case he’d be needed for backup. The lead runner held at second, and Sean took the easy throw from right field for the out at first. Forcing his gaze off the first baseman’s fluid motions, he returned to his position.

Stay calm. No need to panic.

The idea of telling Sean they’d set a date for the wedding made him sick to his stomach. For the last month, they’d had nothing but stolen moments on the road. Thanks to his hip injury, Sean continued to get a single room on a lower floor. Surprisingly, the stair climbing seemed to do some good. Or maybe it was all the sex. Sean was moving easier on the field, favoring his left leg less than when he’d first joined the team. He only complained about it when they were in bed together, and then because he knew Bent wouldn’t say anything to anyone on the Mustangs.

Always careful not to be seen together, they’d worked out a system to avoid detection, but the few hours they managed to be alone never seemed to be enough.

Now this. He had a wedding date.

He had no idea what Sean would think when he told him.

Hell, yes you know what he would think. He’s going to think you’re a coward.

He’s always known you weren’t going to leave her.

Stretching to loosen his tight shoulders, he blindly scanned the crowd.

A Christmas wedding. Jesus, what a mess.

I have to tell her about Sean.

She’ll leave you.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the man in question. He was poetry in motion. Every play he made, Bent imagined the muscles he’d come to know so well, bunching and stretching beneath bronze skin. If there was some way he could have them both…but he couldn’t. He knew that now.

The knowledge almost crushed him.

* * *

Sean knew something was wrong. Bentley played the final games of their home stand like a zombie. He went through the motions, but the enthusiasm the Mustangs left fielder usually exhibited for the game wasn’t there. He didn’t think many people noticed—that’s how good Bentley Randolph was at the game. He played better than most, even when he wasn’t trying.

But Sean knew. And he had a sinking feeling in his stomach he knew what was coming.

They were always careful around each other, keeping a distance explained by the earlier violent encounters in front of their teammates. Officially, they hated each other. For the sake of the team, they’d called a truce of sorts, but off the record, they kept their distance for a whole different reason. When they were within reach, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—but the world they lived in wasn’t ready for their kind of relationship.

Watching Bent step into the hotel elevator at the far end of the alcove, he cursed under his breath. By the time he reached the fourth floor where his room was, it would be a matter of minutes before Bent came to him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he tried to focus on planting his feet just right so as not to tweak the very muscles the exercise was supposed to strengthen. Because, if his gut was telling him the truth, his shaky career was all he would have left in a few minutes.

He sprang to answer the knock on his door—a full hour later than he’d expected it. One look at his lover’s face confirmed his fears.

Closing the door behind him, Sean resisted the urge to put his fist through a wall.
Maybe I’m wrong. Please, God, let me be wrong.

“What took you so long?” he asked in what he hoped was a normal tone.

Bentley stood facing the window, his hands fisted on his hips, his head dipped low. It was tempting to go to him, to offer comfort, but he sensed it wouldn’t be welcome. Whatever put his friend in his current mood was something he couldn’t fix. He was sure of it.

He raised his head without turning around. “I almost didn’t come at all.”

Sean helped himself to a beer from the mini-bar then, after twisting the lid off, sank to the edge of the bed facing away from the window. Whatever Bent had to say, he didn’t want to look at him when he said it. “Why?”

The room’s AC came on, went off again. Sean waited. The hell if he was going to drag it out of the man.

“I don’t know any other way to say this, Sean, but to just say it. We’re done. We can’t see each other again.”

A chill not attributable to the room’s temperature raced along his spine. He’d expected Bent to end their relationship, but the reality of it hit him harder than a fastball to the head. Tears blurred his vision. He blinked, trying to keep them from falling.

“Why?” He cringed at the pathetic whimper of the word.

“Ashley and I have set a date for the wedding. Christmas.”

“What the fuck?” He was off the bed, rage burning hot enough to melt the ice around his heart spurred him into action. “Why haven’t you told her about me? About us?”

Rounding the bed, he took a few steps but stopped before he got close enough to do something he would regret, like throwing Bentley through the window. “You’re seriously going to marry her. I don’t fucking believe this.”
Un-fucking-believable.

Bent turned to him. The anguish on his handsome face almost brought Sean to his knees. But anger won over hurt. “So, what? You’re feeling like a man now? You’re going to throw away what we have together because you’re too much of a coward to tell her the truth?”

Bent raised his gaze to Sean’s. “I’ve never lied to you about my relationship with Ashley. I’m a fucked up son of a bitch, but I’m not going to let the perverted side of me ruin the rest of my life.”

“
Perverted
? You think what we have together is perverted?” That one word was all he’d heard, and it felt like a knife to the gut. “God, you’re an ass, Bentley. You deserve to be miserable for the rest of your life if that’s what you believe.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I just want to be like everyone else, Sean. Can’t you see? I want a wife and kids. I want to be
normal
. Ashley is my chance at the kind of life I want. I have no intention of sneaking around for the rest of my years seeing my gay lover on the side, worrying every second about someone finding out and telling the world.”

Tears streamed down Bent’s cheeks, his shoulders shaking. “I love you, Sean, but I can’t keep going back and forth between the two of you. I hate myself for what I’m doing to Ashley. Face it—there’s no future for us. There never was.”

The weight of reality all but crushed him.
Bentley is right.
He’d let himself imagine a future with this man when there wasn’t one. At least not one they could show in public, and sneaking around was for teenagers, not grown men.

Ah hell.

“Come here,” he said, forcing his feet to move.

Bent leaned into Sean’s embrace. It felt good to be held, comforted, even though the last person who should be showing him compassion was Sean Flannery. But for the first time since he’d committed to the wedding date, he began to believe he might survive.

“You don’t hate me?” he sniffed against one strong shoulder.

“No. I don’t hate you. I love you. I’ll always love you, Bent. No matter what.” Sean’s big hands stroking his back were as reassuring as his words. “I understand why you’re walking. I was stupid to think we could make a relationship work.”

“I hate doing this to you.”

Sean pushed him away enough so he could look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Bent. I dragged you into a relationship that was doomed from the start. I knew better, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted you for so long.”