Page 89 of Diamond Ring
“Was the context you sleeping with them?” Alex teases.
“Yeah.” He shifts, fitting even more snugly into Alex’s side. He wants to be here, in this house or one like it, to enjoy the summer and complain about the winter and spend time near the water whenever he likes. To do something besides getting thumped with baseballs for five hours a day, even if it’s just watch his money make money so he can give it to Sofia and Marianne and Evie. To not ache, the physical ache of his career, and the more psychological one of having to redact any mention of a partner. To, even now, reduce Jake to afriend.
“I’ve thought about moving back here,” Alex says.
“Next season?”
“At some point.” An answer with no fixed deadline. Especially not when Jake’s just getting his bearings in the majors. Alex can sense his own retirement like an oncoming bruise, but that’s something he can’t demand of Jake.
Jake, probably because he can tell Alex is avoiding the question, threads their fingers together. “My hands are cold.”
“New England takes some getting used to.”
“The rest of this is nice.”
It is, with the city sky above them, the calls of various birds and insects. Jake, against him, a warm, comfortable weight. And Alex doesn’t mind playing, exactly, even if more and more he has to drag himself to the park by the back of the neck. Something he’ll do tomorrow, though most of what he wants to do is lie in bed with Jake then fix whatever around-the-house projects Sofia has been saving for him. “It is pretty nice.”
A tightening of Jake’s hand in his. “I could get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Alex says. “Just ’cause I’m done playing doesn’t mean you have to be.”
Jake hums at that. “I don’t think I am. But I want to be where I can just play and not have to worry the team will send me to the minors the first time I mess up.”
Which sounds like Jake’s been thinking about playing someplace other than Oakland. “Any place in particular?”
“It’s funny—feels like I’ve been everywhere just trying to get back here, but I don’t really want to wait to see if the team wants me again. Might be cool to try somewhere else.” He shrugs. “Japan, maybe.”
“I hear that’s pretty nice too.” Which Alex has, from other teammates, the promise of a steady paycheck and enthusiastic crowds. Travel schedules easier than theirs now, sure, but where Jake would still be on the road a good portion of the time, however many hours away. “You should.”
Jake smiles, adjusting their palms together. “I missed you for ten years. I don’t want to do it again.”
Stay here with me, Alex doesn’t say. Even if he wants to. Even if holding on to Jake sometimes feels like holding on to water. Something he doesn’t want to admit on a nice summer night, Jake close at his side. So he settles for, “Me neither.”
They drag themselves to the ballpark the next day, then drag themselves back to Providence, neither having played in a game that’s over in a brief few hours. Evie’s car—the one Alex bought her for her sixteenth birthday—is sitting in the driveway when they pull in.
And Evie’s definitely there, based on the volume that he and Jake are greeted with, a loud argument that goes quiet for two beats before there’s a shriek and the attack of Evie’s encompassing hug.
Alex tries to resist saying grown-up things in response, like how she looks older than she did in February, with her cropped blond hair, the grayish-pink streaks in it subtle and salon-done. Like how she’s taller than he is, which she reminds him about constantly, and how he still thinks of her as a preteen imperiously pointing kid-sized safety knives at him even if she’s now technically an adult. “You remember Jake?”
She wheels to look at Jake, who offers the same businesslike handshake he offered Sofia and Marianne. Evie looks down at his hand before taking it, eyes narrowed, and Alex should probably ask Sofia what the fuck is going on but not with Jake standing right here.
They end up sitting outside around the table on the back deck, everyone, less Jake, splitting a bottle of wine. Alex holds it up to Evie, who waves it off. “I have to be up early.”
Sofia makes a noise, a tick of displeasure. “You could sleep here. Or quit.” An argument that sounds well-worn, especially when Evie scowls at her.
“Rent doesn’t pay itself. Or mine doesn’t.”
Sofia swirls her wine philosophically. “Dressing in the clothes of adulthood isn’t what makes you an adult.”
“Having Alex pay for everything doesn’t either.”Alex. Something Evie’s rarely called him without adding “Uncle,” a title she might have decided she’s also outgrown.
“Hey,” Alex interjects, “we’re not doing this.”
Sofia waves a hand. “It’s fine. Evie feels that data entry is a much morepracticalcareer than art.”
Evie gives an immature huff. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
“Sorry”—Sofia cups her hand to the side of her head—“I can’t hear people who give up on their dreams before they turn twenty.”
