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“Max.” He beamed.
“Nice to meet you, Max. Do you play?”
He nodded. “First base. Like you.”
I grinned. “Best position on the field.”
“I heard that.” Crew flashed me a grin, then turned back to the kids in front of him.
I scribbled my name and jersey number on the bill of the hat and handed it back.
Max hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Can I say something that might sound kind of weird?”
“Sure. Go for it.”
He looked around, then lowered his voice. “I’m gay, and I play on my high school team. I always thought I’d have to pick between being myself and playing ball, but seeing you and Stratton out here, it kind of makes me feel like I don’t have to choose.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his statement. “You’re right, but that’s not weird at all. You don’t need to choose, and if someone says you do, don’t listen to them.”
He smiled again. “Thanks, Singleton. Hope you guys get a win today.”
I stood there for a few seconds and watched him walk back to his seat. I never set out to be a role model. Hell, when Crew and I posted pictures to our social media accounts, I wasn’t trying to make a statement about sexuality and sports necessarily. We just wanted to shut down the speculation and show we weren’t trying to hide the fact we were together.
I’d been out for years, but dating a teammate brought a whole new sort of visibility.
Since going public a few days ago, we’d heard a few whispered comments from fans as we came and went from the stadium. One guy from an opposing team had muttered something when I tagged him out. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before, but things felt different now. Maybe it was because I worried how it might affect Crew being on the receiving end of that bullshit since he’d never really dealt with it before.
Still, the support from our team and the real fans was loud, and I hoped it drowned out anything negative for Crew. It did for me.
And hearing a kid like Max talk about how we helped him meant something to me. I never set out to be anyone’s hero, but if living my truth helped someone feel seen, then maybe the spotlight had found me for a reason.
After our gameended and we’d added another win to our spring training record, we headed back to the clubhouse. Everyone was hyped, and it felt as though the team had started to gel. We were close to being ready for the upcoming season.
Crew peeled off his gear, and I noticed him wince as he rolled his shoulders.
“You good?” I asked, tossing my glove into my locker.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just a bit tight today.”
Turner glanced our way. “Singleton, you better get on that. We can’t have our starting catcher going out before the season even begins.”
“Think you can handle that?” Henderson chuckled.
“Depends.” I grabbed my towel and slung it over my shoulder. “Am I just providing a standard massage or giving him the deluxe treatment with a happy ending?”
Cabrera choked on his water. “You two need to get a room.”
“Trying, but he”—I jerked my thumb toward Crew—“always takes forever to get out of here.”
Crew shook his head and continued changing out of his uniform, but I caught the way he rubbed his shoulder when he thought no one was looking. I was going to keep a close eye on him to make sure it didn’t get worse.
Once we both cleaned up and polished off a couple of plates of food, we headed back to our temporary housing.
We dropped our bags by the front door, and Crew headed for the couch while I made a detour to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water. I tossed him a bottle and sank down beside him. He twisted off the cap and took a long drink, then let his head fall back against the cushion with a groan.
“Still feeling tight?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Nothing horrible. More annoying than anything.”
