“Hes okay,” Zane muttered as he grabbed the ball cap off the floorboard, snagged the keys, and got out of the truck as well. He walked around to the passenger side, half expecting to see Ty on the ground.
Hed managed to get himself together, though, and he was bent over, pushing his feet into his cleats. His equipment bag was over one shoulder, the handle of the bat hanging near the back of his head. He tied his shoe tight before standing and giving Zane a crooked smile.
Zane held out the navy blue FBI ball cap. “Youll need this.” Ty took it and put it on, shaking his head. “Ive never actually worn it in a game. Facemask,” he told Zane. He nodded toward the field and started walking. “You dont have to stay, you know. Theres a lot of news cameras here.”
Zane frowned as he followed, checking out the press. “I know. Do you want me to go?” he asked tentatively. Ty could be difficult to read, and since throwing the whole declaration of love into the mix, dealing with him was like navigating a minefield for Zane. They hadnt done the traditional yours vs. ours kind of distinctions, and sharing still wasnt a strong skill for either of them. This was Tys scene, and Zane wasn't sure he was welcome here.
“No,” Ty answered easily. He turned and looked at Zane, then reached up and took his ball cap off again, handing it back to Zane as if hed forgotten hed just put it on. “I just dont want you getting bored. Put this on so peoplell know youre one of the bad guys.”
“One of the bad guys?” Zane laughed as he settled the cap comfortably on his head. It smelled just enough like Ty to make it worth wearing.
“Well, the other teams love to hate us.” Tys cleats clicked on the concrete as he walked, and even though Zane knew hed taken more medication earlier, he didnt seem overly uncoordinated or goofy.
They threaded through a crowd of fans and various teams, including local law enforcement, a couple of insurance companies, and an area hospital before they turned the corner of the concession stand and saw the FBI team. Again, Zane was surprised by the number of people involved, especially out here in the cold in mid-February. Hed heard through the grapevine that Ty had been partially responsible for the league organization, calling in favors, reaching out to contacts in various fields around the city. Seeing the spectacle now, Zane had to wonder just how connected his partner really was.
They were suddenly assaulted from the side by a perky young reporter blurting questions and her hulking cameraman. Ty just smiled and waved her off, telling her, “After the game, okay?”
“Jesus, you werent kidding when you said this had gotten big,” Zane murmured as he stuck to Ty for protection from the mob. “Why havent I heard more about it?”
“Because you work for a living,” Ty responded as he messed with the neck of his Under Armour shirt. He was getting twitchier as they moved, though that didnt strike Zane as particularly unusual. He was about to respond to Tys gentle dig when someone else spoke up to get Tys attention.
“We were starting to wonder if you were gonna make it, Grady. You missed the national anthem,” Scott Alston said as he walked up to them. He was wearing the same uniform as Ty, but his jersey was tucked in and buttoned and his belt wasnt unbuckled. Zane had heard that all of the teams had given their players nicknames, like Tys “Bulldog.” Some were more interesting than others. From the side, Zane could see Alstons was “Tinman.” There had to be a story there.
Alston looked at Zane and held out his hand, clearly surprised to see him there. “Not a big deal unless youre slated to f**king sing it, right? Garrett, good to see you.”
“Thanks,” Zane said as he shook Alstons hand. “Thought Id cheer for the team. He was supposed to sing?”
“Right.” Alston nodded slowly and looked between them knowingly. “Hes too drugged to drive, isnt he?”
“Grady? Drugged? Would never happen,” Zane answered, meeting Alstons eyes straight on without blinking. “Sure it wouldnt,” Alston said with a laugh. He reached out and took Tys hand in his, lifting it to look at the tape Ty had wrapped around his fingers. “I see you have a lefty glove today. Broken or just bent?”
Ty took a step closer and yanked his hand away. “Sit on it and spin, Scott,” he muttered as he walked past him toward the larger group of players.
Alston laughed heartily and looked back at Zane with a raised eyebrow.
Zane shrugged helplessly. “He said he wanted to play.” “He always wants to play,” Alston assured him. “Thats what he was saying last night when we peeled him out of the dirt.”
“Been there, done that,” Zane said drily. “Ty can sing?” Alston just laughed like Zane was joking, and Zane let it go, feeling stupid for not knowing something like that about his partner. His lover. He glanced around, recognizing some other team members and spectators.
“Im just going to hang out and relax.” He paused, peering after Ty. “I should probably ask where the EMTs are. Just in case.” “Dont worry. One of them has the hots for Grady. Shell be all over it if hes hurt,” Alston told him as he turned, waving over his shoulder. “Thanks for bringing him!”
Zane waved him off and turned to survey the bleachers now that the team had cleared out. Close to full, but hed have room to stretch out his legs if he was careful. He had just started toward them when he heard the clacking of cleats behind him.
Ty grabbed his elbow to stop him; Zane turned in place to look at his partner. Tys hazel eyes were shining in the sunlight, and he smiled crookedly as he let his hand slide away from Zanes arm. “Thanks for bringing me, Zane,” he said with an affectionate pat to Zanes belly, and then he turned away and jogged back toward the dugout on the other side of the field without waiting for Zane to respond.
Zane stared after him, rooted to the spot, and it wasnt even Tys fine ass in those pants that had his attention. No, it was that flash of light in Tys eyes that struck Zane right in the gut and made his breath catch. He had to try twice to swallow, and his face felt hot in the brisk air. He blinked hard before he realized he was gaping and made himself turn toward the bleachers and sit down about four rows up.
Occasional actions like that totally convinced Zane that Ty was telling the truth about loving him. It bowled Zane over, and he felt a rush of giddiness. Zane closed his eyes tight and opened them again, and Ty came into focus on the other side of the fence—Zane had zeroed in on him without consciously looking.
A young girl, elementary school age probably, abruptly skipped into his line of sight, climbed up the bleachers deftly, and sat down right beside him as if she belonged there. She gave him a cheerful smile. “Hi!”