Double Play (Hit and Run Book 3), page 18
Orion snorted and shook his head. “Had my fill the other day.”
She leaned against him, and he felt her sigh more than he could hear it. “I keep trying to picture what Carey would be doing right now if we’d swapped places.”
“He’d be on the phone trying to track down a necromancer,” Orion said.
Nova went quiet, then laughed until the tears took over. Orion managed to get his mug set aside before he took her in his arms, and it felt strangely cathartic because she hadn’t really hugged him at the hospital. Not since before they knew. After she’d screamed, she’d gone into a quiet shock, and the numbness had spread between them.
Now, it was like a dam broke, and Orion gave in to his own ache, though it was quieter than her soft, hiccupping sobs. It went on for some time—he didn’t bother keeping track—but his tears dried before hers, so he just kept holding her.
“We started grief counseling,” she told him. “Before, uh…before the stroke. About a month after he was diagnosed, his doctors all seemed pretty grim. It was like one thing after another, and he didn’t want to tell anyone because his parents expected him to go full Stephen Hawking.”
That sounded about right. They’d been a little too optimistic when Carey had joined the military, like somehow, he was bulletproof.
“He didn’t want to deal with the stress, but we both knew it was going to be sooner rather than later.” She stood up abruptly, swiping her hands over the backs of her jeans. She looked older in the dim porch light, but he knew that was just her lack of sleep. She clenched her jaw, and he knew something more was coming. Something big. “I’m pregnant.”
All the air rushed out of him, and it took a minute for the world to go right side up again. “Did he know?”
Nova met his gaze almost like a challenge when she spoke. “No. And if he’d lived longer, I probably wouldn’t have kept it. It’s bad enough with Callie. I haven’t seen her since Rob and Sharon took her because I’m obviously unable to be a good mom right now.”
Orion shook his head quickly. “You’re not a bad mom right now. You’re grieving. And she’s not going to remember this, Nova. She’s going to know something’s wrong, but this is the time to be a little selfish.”
Nova swallowed heavily, then laid a hand on her stomach, and Orion fought the urge to wrap his arms around her again. “What am I going to do?”
“Whatever you want to do,” he told her. He pushed to his feet and pulled her close. She stiffened, but it only lasted a second before she melted against him.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered again, and this time, he didn’t have an answer.
Nova eventually passed out on the sofa. Luke was the last one up, and he threw a blanket over her, tucking her in, then shooing Orion out of the room. ‘Go,’ he mouthed. ‘Sleep.’
Orion wasn’t sure he could now that he knew the situation was somehow even more complicated, but the one thing Nova had was support. Carey’s parents had always been like family, and their own would happily sell their home and settle wherever Nova needed them.
She was young, and she was beautiful and strong. She might not ever find a love like Carey again, but she’d never be on her own.
That thought carried him to the bedroom, and he stripped down and fell on top of the duvet. He starfished, stretching his limbs out to help some of the tension he’d been carrying, then he rolled onto his side and picked up his phone to check the time.
It was well past two. His eyes ached.
He blinked, struggling to open them again, but then a text buzzed, and he knew. Somehow, he just…knew.
Hervé: I listened to your message. There’s a lot we need to say, but not over text.
Orion: No. Not over text.
Hervé: Why are you awake?
Orion: Insomnia. Is that why you sent the message so late? Were you trying to avoid me?
Hervé: Mais non. T’es un peu cul-cul.
Orion: I’m too tired to google translate that, baby. If you’re telling me to fuck off, take pity and use English.
Hervé: I forgot the time difference.
He was home. His home, in Paris or…wherever. Fuck, Orion hadn’t even asked where Hervé lived or what he was going to do after their countryside trip was over. But it was obvious he wasn’t there anymore.
Orion: Michel got you home okay?
Hervé: We had a long talk. I think maybe I didn’t understand that I still had friends who cared about me.
Orion: I’m glad, since you have such a shit boyfriend.
Hervé: Are you my boyfriend?
Orion: I’m not sure I deserve it, but if you want me to be, then yes. I don’t want to be done, sweetness. I’m so sorry I didn’t get back sooner.
Hervé: I do, but I have a lot to work on. I almost relapsed last night after you left. And before you blame yourself, it’s not you. I’m still working on my recovery, and I think it might be best if I take some time to get myself steady before we go any deeper.
Orion: I hate that I hurt you, but I understand. I wasn’t capable of being better for you last night and I’m so sorry.
Hervé: I forgive you, and I hope you forgive me for not being strong enough yet. But we can talk after you put your brother to rest, yes?
Orion swallowed thickly and pressed the phone to the center of his forehead in the same place Hervé had pressed his lips before. He could feel the echo of that old kiss, and God, he missed those arms like they were his own limbs. But he understood everything Hervé was saying. He understood that this space, this time, was what they both needed.
Orion: Yes. I’ll be waiting, and you can text me any time. I think I’m about to pass out though.
Hervé: Get some sleep, mon chéri. We’ll make it right soon.
Orion set his phone down instead of giving in to his hysterical need to call Hervé and hear his voice. The words on his screen were enough to lift some of the weight from his shoulders, and knowing that there was still a chance—that he might not have to say goodbye to this thing too—was enough to send him crashing over the edge into a black abyss.
19
Crack!
There was something to be said about the sound of the bat making contact with the ball, even if Orion was trying to get his pitch over the plate and into Connor’s glove. But there was something about that noise that told him he was home, and the fact that it was Pietro and he couldn’t get a pitch past that fucker no matter how hard he tried.
And he was horrifically out of practice.
No one was judging him, considering his circumstances, but he was getting a little tired of the pity looks. He’d missed spring training, he’d missed preseason, and they were three weeks into the official season. He wasn’t starting, of course, but the entire world knew something was wrong. ESPN had been reporting on his status since it was announced he was taking leave, but no one had been brave enough to ask him about it yet.
Not that he was any good about talking, but he felt like maybe it would take some of the weight off if he could just let it all out.
Rolling his shoulders, Orion reached down toward the bucket, but he could see Weber off in the distance, giving him the signal to quit. It was fair. His pitching was shit, and it would be a good while before they put him on the mound unless something tragic happened to James and he was their only choice.
Dropping the ball back into the bucket, Orion started to cross the field, massaging the heel of his pitching hand. His fingers felt too stiff, and he knew it was probably psychosomatic. The last thing he needed was a case of fucking grief-induced yips, but it would just be the cherry on the top of his shit-sundae.
“Breathe, babe.”
Orion glanced up to see James heading toward him. He looked loose and limber and ready, and Orion tried not to hate him for it. “Shut up and make me proud,” he shot back.
James’ smile lit up his face, and he leaned in, knocking Orion gently with his shoulder. “Your phone’s been buzzing. I think your sex-friend is missing you.”
Orion had been balking at the word “boyfriend” since they left DC, but it was obvious to everyone around him that the rift between him and Hervé was killing him. Even his sister, who was going through the ebb and flow of grief gave him shit about it and told him to make it right.
“Trust me when I say that you don’t want to waste any second you have left on this fucking planet.” She had his niece sleeping against her shoulder, and she looked like she hadn’t gotten more than a few hours since they’d scattered Carey’s ashes in the lake. But she was surviving, and that was something that gave him hope. “I liked him, you know.”
“You met him for ten seconds,” Orion groused.
She laughed and shook her head. “Five seconds was enough to know I was going to marry your idiot best friend.” Her voice got a little thicker. “Even when I hated him—even when you two were relentless assholes—I knew. And I can tell that about Hervé too.”
Orion didn’t have the strength to argue with her. He and Hervé had been in fairly constant contact over texts, but they hadn’t called. Not yet. Hervé promised that he wasn’t angry, but he was trying to sort out his life before making any decisions, and Orion had to respect that.
Being with him would never be easy. His schedule was grueling, and his moods were never the best during the season, and even in his off time, he couldn’t do all the things normal couples did. And with Hervé’s career up in the air and him still battling his addictions—not to mention he wasn’t even a citizen of the same country—Orion felt a little out to sea with how to manage their love.
But he also wasn’t going to give up. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d let this go without a fight. He was just trying to practice patience.
Slipping into the dugout, he grabbed his phone from his jacket, which was draped over his water bottle, and he slumped down on the bench. Luke was sitting a few spaces away from him, his legs manspreading like it was his job, and he tipped his hat lower over his brow as he watched Orion flick on the screen.
“If he’s sending you nudie pictures…”
“Can you call nineteen thirty-five and tell them to take them and their bullshit slang back?” Orion asked. He rubbed his thumb over Hervé’s name before opening the message.
Hervé: Cc! I had an audition today. I didn’t fall asleep.
Orion: I’m proud of you, sweetness. Do you think you got it?
Hervé: No. They asked me to lose several kilo.
Orion: Fuck them.
Hervé: That was also on the table, AMHA
Orion: Fuck you
Orion: I didn’t mean that.
Hervé: MDR. I know. I wanted to ask something.
Orion: Anything.
Hervé: Can we talk after your practice? On video?
Orion: Yes. Ouais. Ben sur. All that shit that means hell yes.
Hervé: MDR. Okay. Just send me a text when you’re done. I might be awake. Things have been better lately.
Orion: Okay. I miss you.
Hervé: bi1to. BIZ xx
“Did you just sext?”
Orion almost dropped his phone, his gaze snapping up to see Pietro cross-legged in front of the dugout fence. He stood up, walked over, and linked his fingers through the chains. “Is that any of your fuckin’ business?”
“It is when my bestie isn’t getting laid because his French boyfriend—”
“Your ex-boyfriend,” Orion reminded him because as much as Pietro and Thierry had sworn up and down that it was fine, he was too afraid to trust that he could just have this.
“He never made me smile and blush at my phone like that, babes,” Pietro said with a shrug. “Seriously though.”
“Seriously, we weren’t sexting.” Orion took a breath, then stuck his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the little worry stone he carried with him. His sister had ordered it—a piece of Carey to keep with him.
It had creeped him out at first—knowing it was made from Carey’s ashes. But after a few days, it felt less strange. And now it just brought him a comfort he wasn’t sure he was ever going to feel again. He rubbed his thumb over it and closed his eyes, picturing Hervé’s smile from before everything went tits up.
“Holy shit. You love him, don’t you?” Pietro said, his voice barely a whisper. A stray foul went flying past Pietro’s ear and smashed into the fence. Pietro picked up the ball and turned, his eyes narrowed. “Fuckin’ watch it, rookie!”
“Get your ass away from the fence,” Weber snarled.
Pietro rolled his eyes before jumping to his feet and walking down the steps. He grabbed Orion by his arm and hauled him to the very back, shoving him into the furthest corner by the door. “Talk to me, Goose.”
“Goose dies,” Orion said through clenched teeth.
“A lot of people die,” Pietro said, like he needed reminding. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I know your misery was more than just losing Carey, and now you’re smiling. So talk to me.”
Orion rolled his shoulders back and didn’t bother waiting for Pietro to sit since his ADHD was peaking and he was restless and fidgety. “I fucked up and abandoned him, and a small part of me wondered if maybe I was his karma, you know? For everything? But that didn’t seem right because hurting him hurt me.”
Pietro took a breath, then sat sideways on the bench, letting his knee bounce with his unrestrained energy. “I could have told you that. I don’t think karma works that way. It’s like…people who pray for someone’s cancer to get better, right? So then it does, but is it prayer? And if it is, then why did some baby die of cancer and some crotchety old bigot gets cured?”
Orion blinked at the odd turn of topic, but he understood what Pietro was trying to say, so he nodded. “Knowing that, I wasn’t sure if he should forgive me. I promised I’d never be one of those assholes who gave up on him, and the second shit got hard, I told him I regretted bringing him with me.”
Pietro winced. “Yeah. Fair.”
Orion sat back and let his head rest against the wall. “I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, but I don’t know how to make it work. Like…it works for you and T, right? He runs your restaurant, and he was already living here and working for you before that. Ridley is a coach at the high school, and James doesn’t have to figure out how to fly across the goddamn world just to get a weekend with him. Even Luke can fly to wherever the fuck Tomas hid himself away because it’s not far. And Tomas was one of us, so he gets it.”
Pietro’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Yeah, man. But even with all that, it’s still hard for us. I hate that look on Thierry’s face when I come home all pissed off and all he wants is some affection. Or when we’re on roadies and shit, and I get back and I don’t have the energy to give him anything. We all have to decide if it’s worth the struggle. You and Hervé won’t be any different.”
Orion bit his lip. “So is it actually worth it?”
“Yes,” Pietro said without hesitation. “Hervé will have to do something he’s notoriously shitty at though.”
Orion raised a brow.
“Meet you halfway. Sometimes more than halfway.” When Orion’s mouth dropped open to protest, Pietro threw up his hands and stood up again. “Yo, look, I’m not dragging him, okay? I know he’s been working on himself. Like, who even is this guy, right? He and Thierry have been talking.”
Orion warmed slightly. “Yeah?”
“Thierry sent him some cooking videos and some recipes. He was researching some—well, whatever, it’s probably bullshit, but some diets that supposedly help with narcolepsy symptoms.”
Orion felt a tightness in his chest, and he cleared his throat, but he couldn’t get rid of it. “I didn’t know.”
Pietro softened. “I think that’s for them, you know? There’s a mountain of bad things that Hervé needs to atone for, but Thierry was his priority, and I think he’s willing to let Hervé try.”
Orion didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
“Anyway, sorry I got off topic,” Pietro said with a sheepish grin, though it wasn’t like Orion had ever minded. “But yeah. I think he’s worth it. If he’s willing to humble himself for Thierry’s forgiveness, I think he’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to be with you. And for the record, I’ve never seen him smile the way you make him smile, either.”
That didn’t feel like a fix, and it certainly didn’t answer his questions, but it made it a lot easier to breathe in air that finally filled his lungs.
20
“You’re panicking.”
Hervé bared his teeth at Matis in the salon mirror. He was the only one there, so no one would witness anything humiliating like him slumping over in the chair if he had an attack, but it had also been weeks since he’d lost control of his body like that.
His sleep was still erratic, and his rigid schedule hadn’t changed, but he was starting to feel like maybe his therapist and the doctors were right. Maybe he could live with it. Maybe it could be managed.
His anxiety was high though, and it was only Matis’ offer to give him a little touch-up that had him breathing easy. He hadn’t seen Orion face-to-face since DC. They’d exchanged more texts than he could count and even sent a few Snaps, but he hadn’t heard Orion’s voice in a short forever.
He’d seen him, of course. Orion had been plastered all over the sports news, and Hervé had been religiously following every channel he could. Several of them were speculating on his performance and why he was off on leave, but the Vikings hadn’t given a statement, and Orion hadn’t either. He’d posted one cryptic photo on his Instagram of a worry stone in the palm of his hand, and Hervé didn’t have to ask to know what it was about.
