As much as I claimed I wanted to be alone, going home didn’t seem as appealing if Eric wasn’t going to be there. And I knew he’d be in his car driving to the bar before he and Jason even got off the phone. He’d been miserable since the end of the regular season, bored because most of his circle of friends played for the Mavericks. That meant he sat at home watching every game because he didn’t want to deal with people asking him what it was like to watch the game, knowing he used to wear the blue and gray jersey.

“Fine, I’ll be there,” I promised him. Jason gave me a disbelieving glare. “I will! I’m just going to pack up a few more things, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Okay, but remember what I said. I’ll have no problem sending Eric and Mason over to the house if you try to ditch us,” Jason warned me as he slung his bag over his shoulder. I dawdled as long as possible after he left, hoping that the autograph hounds would give up before I walked outside. It wouldn’t be my signature or pictures they’d want from me, it’d be a piece of my ass since I’d let them down as well.

The lights in the parking lot turned off when I was only about halfway to my car. I quickened my pace, uneasy in the pitch black night. I knew it was nothing more than my overactive imagination getting away from me, but that didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder and fumbling in my pocket for my keys.

It was nearly midnight, which wasn’t late by some standards, but it was considered obscenely late in the Jackson household. Still, I knew my dad would be sitting in the worn out recliner he refused to let me replace for him, waiting for my call. We talked after almost every game. He was never overly harsh on me, but he was the one man I knew I could trust to tell me exactly where I screwed up. I didn’t need that tonight. What I needed was to hear a friendly voice. Maybe once we were done with meetings and released for the winter, I’d head to the opposite corner of the state to the small farm my family had lived on for generations.

“I was wondering if you’d call tonight.” Dad answered before the phone even rang on my end of the line. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, waiting for him to lay into me about my screw up. He’d been my coach from the time he signed me up for tee ball until I made the varsity baseball team as a freshman in high school. Even though he wasn’t in charge of the teams I played on after that, he still took his job as a coach very seriously. “You played a hell of a game out there tonight.”

That statement surprised me. I figured he’d jump right into telling me how irresponsible it was of me to run into Montoya. The old man seemed to be getting soft in his old age. If he wasn’t berating me for that play, maybe Jason was right and I was being too hard on myself. “Thanks Dad. You might be the only person who thinks that. If it wasn’t for me, we’d be heading to the league championships. I’ll probably have to hide out all winter, hoping the fans will forget about how I fucked up by the time we leave for spring training—”

“Would you quit being so melodramatic?” Dad interrupted. “Yes, you screwed up tonight. You’re a smart player. You know better than to let someone like him get away with stepping in front of you the way he did. That being said, Butler had no place trying to get home on that play. He could have easily stood there biding his time and he still would have been the first man home.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I responded sarcastically. I’d have never been so bold if Dad had been standing in front of me, but with the safety of miles between us, I didn’t hold back. Dad had zero tolerance for mouthiness or disrespect, and it didn’t matter to him that I was twenty-five and a professional athlete, he wouldn’t hesitate to knock me on my ass. I couldn’t ask for better parents than the ones I had, but they were stern for a reason.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he warned. “If it’ll make you feel better, we can sit down and watch every play of the game when you come home. You are still coming home for a while, right?”

Of course I was. No matter how many zeroes in my bank account or how many reporters wanted to talk to me, it wouldn’t change the fact that Dad expected me to come home and help him get the farm ready for winter. I’d never admit it to them, but I loved my parents for treating me as if I was nothing more than the only son they expected to do his part for the family. It made me feel normal. My sisters’ husbands helped out when they could, but only because they volunteered to help. It wasn’t expected of them.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m hoping to get there early next week,” I told him. “I’m sure the rest of this week will be filled with meetings and all that fun stuff, but as soon as we’re set free for the winter, I’ll be there.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll let your mother know to get your room ready.” There was a lingering silence across the line, and I knew what Dad was trying to keep from asking. Everyone in my family knew I was gay, but I was pretty sure Dad struggled with the reality that I might someday bring a guy home to meet them.

For a long time, I’d allowed myself to think about how easy it’d be if that someone was Cam. They knew him. They’d never batted an eye when he’d shown up at the front door late at night after having a fight with his uncle. My mom was the one who made sure he had school supplies at the beginning of every school year and that he wouldn’t be going to school in pants that were two inches too short and falling apart. It would have taken a miracle for that to ever become reality, but since he was head over heels in love with Jason, I knew that ship had sailed.

“Will you be alone?”

“Yes,” I assured him. “As wonderful as it’d be to bring home someone for you and Mom to interrogate, I’m afraid my schedule doesn’t really allow much time for domestic life.”

“Boy, you keep that up and I’ll whip the sass out of you when you get here.” The teasing lilt in his voice told me he wasn’t being serious. “Well, it’s getting late. You be safe and I’ll see you next week.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“You too.” He hung up without another word and I sat there staring at the display of my phone until it went dark. The conversation hadn’t gone as expected, but it was exactly what I needed.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I started thinking about whether or not I’d go insane if I went home for the entire winter. If Cam made it onto the show, he’d be gone for at least a month, maybe longer, while they were filming. If he did well, and I had faith he would, he’d be busy with public appearances and whatever other shit went along with being a reality TV star. Mason and Sean had talked about spending the winter in Indiana with Mason’s family, but that was still up in the air. Jason would likely be wherever Cam was. That pretty much just left Eric, and I was sure he’d be glad to not have me in his space.

By the time I pulled into a parking spot down the street from Bar 42, I’d made up my mind that I was going to stay home until my parents got tired of me and begged me to get out of their space. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as I walked up the dark sidewalk. My mind was on what equipment I wanted to put in the barn, the routes I could run through the countryside near my parents’ farm, and how to convince my mom that not every meal needed to be drowned in fresh butter.

Everything that seemed important became meaningless as I felt a hand clamp over my mouth. I clawed at the thick fingers, kicked at the shins of the man dragging me into the alley beside the bar. I tried to scream, but I knew no one heard me. “Try anything, you fucking fairy, and I’ll shove your bat so far up your ass it’ll choke you.”

I’d heard that voice somewhere, but I was more concerned with trying to get out of there alive than figuring out who belonged to the hand covering my mouth while the other squeezed tighter on my neck. I clawed at the larger man’s hand so I could draw in a breath. He didn’t budge and my reaction seemed to fuel his anger. My feet were lifted off the ground and I kicked him in the shins again, this time causing him to howl in pain as my heel made contact with bone. No matter how I fought, he didn’t let go. The world faded as I struggled to breathe. Skin ripped open as my head slammed into the pavement. I could hear bones cracking as a heavy work boot repeatedly made contact with my chest.