as if thinking over the question. “Each pitch has the potential to change the course of a game, series, or season. Perfection is rare and errors can cause everything to spiral out of control.”
“That’s a good thing?”
Caleb smiled. “There’s always another eight innings to get it right.”
Logan was living proof that second chances happened. He hoped that Caleb would get one too. Seeing Caleb lick sauce from his thumb, Logan couldn’t help asking, “Did you know in high school which team you batted for?” He took a sip of water from his bottle for his suddenly dry throat.
“Considering the first time I ever got myself off I was thinking about the first baseman, Mark Grace—”
Logan sputtered and choked, sneezing as the water went up his nose. Caleb thumped him on the back and offered him a napkin. Just when he thought he was going to live, Caleb said, “You wouldn’t believe the batboy fantasies I had.” He smiled sheepishly, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words were having.
Leaning forward, Logan tried to regulate his breathing, but the image of Caleb in a tight baseball uniform, bending over to retrieve a bat wouldn’t leave his head or his cock. Phrases and images from the game filtered through his head: hitting the sweet spot, working the rosin bag over the bat, going deep in the hole, doubleheader…. Baseball was a filthy, dirty sport. Thankfully, Caleb assumed he was still choking. He rubbed Logan’s back and cooed until he recovered.
Logan kept eating after he’d already had enough, because watching Caleb devour the pizza with orgasmic delight fascinated him more than the game. He was reluctant to leave and Caleb didn’t seem inclined to shove him out the door. He felt comfortable here in a way he didn’t feel anywhere else. He knew he was venturing into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. I’m not planning on putting the moves on him , he told himself sternly. Even though I’m apparently his type . It was just nice to have someone to talk to and hang out a bit. Most of the guys at the warehouse were either married or only interested in going to bars. God, I’m fucking pathetic. The last thought gave him pause. He couldn’thelp feeling like he was taking advantage of Caleb’s generosity. Hell, he hadn’t even paid for the pizza.
Caleb leaned back on the couch, his hands on his stomach. Looking deliciously limp and sated, he said, “God, that was so good.”
“But not enough to make us even.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to let me help you get your own pizza next time.”
Caleb stiffened. “I don’t need your help.”
Logan snorted. He was way too familiar with those five little words. His mind gave him a replay of the faces of people who’d tried to help him only to be shot down. He’d taken an almost visceral pleasure in seeing the resignation in their eyes as they turned away from him. All but Michael, but thinking about his former best friend hurt too fucking much. “I had to lose everything before I figured out I needed help.”
He’d sacrificed his future, his friendships, and his freedom for what? To become as much of a bastard as his old man? How could he ever have thought oblivion was worth such a price? More than anything, he wished he could correct those mistakes, but he didn’t deserve their forgiveness. He couldn’t change the past, but he could maybe help Caleb in the here and now. Caleb had created his own personal prison, and Logan was determined to help him break out.
Caleb was quiet for several minutes before he spoke. “W-what w-would we d-do?”
A plan forming in his head, Logan said, “We’d take it one step at a time.”
Chapter 3
R UBBING sleep from his eyes, Caleb plopped on the leather couch. The last time he had left his apartment the police were called. While attempting to check the mail for an ailing Mrs. Simon, he had a panic attack in the stairwell. He had only managed two floors
“That’s a good thing?”
Caleb smiled. “There’s always another eight innings to get it right.”
Logan was living proof that second chances happened. He hoped that Caleb would get one too. Seeing Caleb lick sauce from his thumb, Logan couldn’t help asking, “Did you know in high school which team you batted for?” He took a sip of water from his bottle for his suddenly dry throat.
“Considering the first time I ever got myself off I was thinking about the first baseman, Mark Grace—”
Logan sputtered and choked, sneezing as the water went up his nose. Caleb thumped him on the back and offered him a napkin. Just when he thought he was going to live, Caleb said, “You wouldn’t believe the batboy fantasies I had.” He smiled sheepishly, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words were having.
Leaning forward, Logan tried to regulate his breathing, but the image of Caleb in a tight baseball uniform, bending over to retrieve a bat wouldn’t leave his head or his cock. Phrases and images from the game filtered through his head: hitting the sweet spot, working the rosin bag over the bat, going deep in the hole, doubleheader…. Baseball was a filthy, dirty sport. Thankfully, Caleb assumed he was still choking. He rubbed Logan’s back and cooed until he recovered.
Logan kept eating after he’d already had enough, because watching Caleb devour the pizza with orgasmic delight fascinated him more than the game. He was reluctant to leave and Caleb didn’t seem inclined to shove him out the door. He felt comfortable here in a way he didn’t feel anywhere else. He knew he was venturing into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. I’m not planning on putting the moves on him , he told himself sternly. Even though I’m apparently his type . It was just nice to have someone to talk to and hang out a bit. Most of the guys at the warehouse were either married or only interested in going to bars. God, I’m fucking pathetic. The last thought gave him pause. He couldn’thelp feeling like he was taking advantage of Caleb’s generosity. Hell, he hadn’t even paid for the pizza.
Caleb leaned back on the couch, his hands on his stomach. Looking deliciously limp and sated, he said, “God, that was so good.”
“But not enough to make us even.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to let me help you get your own pizza next time.”
Caleb stiffened. “I don’t need your help.”
Logan snorted. He was way too familiar with those five little words. His mind gave him a replay of the faces of people who’d tried to help him only to be shot down. He’d taken an almost visceral pleasure in seeing the resignation in their eyes as they turned away from him. All but Michael, but thinking about his former best friend hurt too fucking much. “I had to lose everything before I figured out I needed help.”
He’d sacrificed his future, his friendships, and his freedom for what? To become as much of a bastard as his old man? How could he ever have thought oblivion was worth such a price? More than anything, he wished he could correct those mistakes, but he didn’t deserve their forgiveness. He couldn’t change the past, but he could maybe help Caleb in the here and now. Caleb had created his own personal prison, and Logan was determined to help him break out.
Caleb was quiet for several minutes before he spoke. “W-what w-would we d-do?”
A plan forming in his head, Logan said, “We’d take it one step at a time.”
Chapter 3
R UBBING sleep from his eyes, Caleb plopped on the leather couch. The last time he had left his apartment the police were called. While attempting to check the mail for an ailing Mrs. Simon, he had a panic attack in the stairwell. He had only managed two floors
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