You trust me so beautifully in bed. Can’t you trust me enough to hope?
He didn’t have a choice—time had apparently forced his hand. He had to hope. He wasn’t going to function without it.
“Yeah,” Ross said, lowering his voice. “Saturday is going to suck.”
They shared a look, complicated and painful. Finally, Pat spoke up from behind them, saving the moment from becoming too fraught.
“But Friday night isn’t gonna,” he said with decision. “Party after the games. My place. Barbecue to send Ross off and make him want to come back. Who’s with me!”
“We can invite Piper since it’s Friday,” Ross said wistfully. “She’ll still be recovering, but I can see her Friday night, right?”
“Yeah,” Tenner said, thinking about how warm the nights were now in May. “I think she’ll be so excited.”
And Ross would be sleeping with Tenner that night—because they had no time left, and Tenner wasn’t going to waste a second.
But it wasn’t enough, just making that resolve, sending Ross off with that “I love you, come back” in his ears.
Tenner needed more—a sign. A signal. He remembered Ross “marking his room” that first night, and after lunch that afternoon, as he sat in his cubicle and stared sightlessly at his computer, he had an idea, like a bolt of lightning.
He got online and ordered Ross’s surprise. It showed up Thursday morning.
THE LAST game of the season was Ross’s last Friday in town. After Tenner’s team lost its game heinously—but not so heinously they didn’t at least get two at bats—Ross met him to go get Piper as the field lights were going down.
“Patrick just reminded me about the barbecue tonight,” he said. “In honor of me getting the fuck out of Dodge. You, Piper, Nina—they want the whole nine yards. You can even invite the Sunspots, if you want. Hanford and Kipp might make out behind something and give us a thrill.”
Tenner rolled his eyes. “You know what would give me a thrill? If Hanford could catch the damned ball. That would thrill me no end. That would be an instant orgasm where I stood, oh yes it would.”
Ross laughed softly. “So you do love softball more than you love me.”
Tenner looked at him sourly. “No, but I might love it more than I love your brother-in-law. I was supposed to join his team when you left, do you know that?”
“I do,” Ross said.
“But I can’t. I can’t. Because these guys still suck on ice, and they keep looking at me, with their big eyes, going, ‘You’re going to be our captain again in the summer season, right, Tanner?’ They don’t even know my name, Ross. And you know what the worst part is?”
They neared the cinderblock bathrooms—the cinderblock bathrooms—and Ross touched his arm so he’d stand still. “You’re going to do it?” Ross told him, like he wasn’t surprised at all.
“Yeah, I’m gonna do it. I’d feel like some asshole who kicked puppies if I—” The lights clicked off, and they were left alone in the warm dark of the early summer night. “—didn’t,” Tenner finished weakly.
And Ross was there, his heat, his smell—and he was familiar now, he was Tenner’s, but it was no less of a thrill because they’d had each other, spent nights in each other’s arms, had promised a future together.
“You’re not a guy who kicks puppies,” Ross said, running tender fingertips along Tenner’s jaw.
“No,” Tenner murmured.
Their kiss wasn’t urgent or electric. They weren’t going to jump behind the bathrooms and bang each other like strangers this time, because they weren’t strangers, and they had better places to make love.
But the kiss was an affirmation, a reminder, of all that they had become in the past month and a half, and all they had yet to be. Tenner moaned slightly and clenched Ross so tight it was probably hard to breathe.
“Hey,” Ross murmured. “It’s okay.”
“You promised,” Tenner reminded him.
“So did you.”
“Your home is with me,” Tenner said, because Ross had been a wanderer, and now he wasn’t anymore, and Tenner had done that.
“And I’ll be home to take care of you,” Ross said softly. And God, Tenner hadn’t thought he’d needed that, but he’d been so wrong. He needed Ross. Not to pay the rent or to feed the cat but to care for Tenner’s soul.
Tenner nodded, eyes still burning, and then pulled back and dropped his equipment bag so he could fumble in the pocket. He came back with a small box that had been delivered the day before but that he hadn’t wanted to leave in the house.
“Here,” he mumbled. “This isn’t very romantic, but here.”
He pulled out the two rings, both of them gray silicone, plain and serviceable, and sturdy. “They’re not wedding rings or engagement rings, but… but I don’t want you a thousand miles away without anything but memories.” He slid the ring onto Ross’s finger, glad his guess about the size had worked. “There. I bought two extras, so if it rips or whatever, you can replace it. It’s just—”
“Perfect,” Ross said, pulling out his phone so he could look at the ring in the flashlight. “Perfect, Tenner. Where’s yours?”
Tenner smiled a little, glad he understood, and pulled out the plain silicone band for himself. Ross took it and slid it on.
“It’s not a wedding ring yet,” he said, kissing Tenner’s knuckles. “But it will be. I promise.”
Tenner’s eyes burned some more. “Come back,” he muttered. “It’s the only promise I need.”
Ross took his mouth then and sealed the deal, and after a moment of their hearts beating in the humid quiet, they turned for the parking lot so they could go get their girl.
THE BARBECUE was great, because Patrick and Desi didn’t know how to do a gathering badly, and everybody said goodbye and good luck to Ross, but only a few people noticed the rings.
Nina was one of them. “Nice,” she murmured, nodding at Tenner’s finger.
“Yeah?” And God, he really wanted her blessing.
“Invite me to the ceremony,” she said pertly, but she smiled, and it was genuine, and he smiled back.
“I’ll make you a groomsperson,” he said, and her eyes widened in horror.
And then humor.
“That way, I’ll have been in both of your weddings.” Suddenly she giggled. “Your parents would have kittens.”
Tenner laughed too. “We should invite them.”
And they both clung to each other for a moment, like friends.
Ross said goodbye to his family that night and slept where he belonged—in Tenner’s bed. It was funny, that, because he’d ramped the moment up into such a milestone, something so tremendous it would change his world with his daughter forever. But it was really so simple.
When he went to kiss Piper good night, she asked for Ross too.
“You want Ross to kiss you?” he asked, that little knife of “he’s leaving us” twisting in his chest. “You know he’s going away tomorrow.”