Marcy took a sip of her drink, thought about it, and then took a large gulp. “I know. The kids are just worried about me. I am worried about you.”
“Me?”
“When we got divorced and I moved away, you promised me you wouldn’t be that guy sitting alone in his apartment and eating takeout every night.”
Jake would have to drink faster if they were going to have this conversation. “I know I did. But I’ve been busy with the team—”
“You’ve had four years of off-seasons to get out, meet somebody. Did you even hook up? Take anybody home?”
“Of course I did.”
“Women or men?”
Jake drained his glass and refilled it. “Both.”
Marcy sighed. “Well, at least there’s that. And you never met anyone you wanted more from?”
“There were only two times in my life I ever wanted more from someone,” Jake snapped. “You know how those both ended.”
“I know how we ended. But the other… maybe you haven’t reached the end yet.”
All Jake knew was that “the other” was all he thought about anymore. During his marriage, he’d tried to put those thoughts away, but he’d completely given in to them since the divorce. He loved Marcy. He loved his children. But, God forgive him, sometimes he’d dreamed of what his life would have been like had he never made the choice that led him to them. He was crushed by guilt when he woke up.
“I can’t afford to think that way.” Jake scratched under his short beard. “I can’t get my hopes up like that.”
Marcy refilled her glass and topped off Jake’s. “Does he know you’re coming?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t know why.”
“But he’s seriously dating again, right?”
Jake wanted to growl. He didn’t like thinking about Mikko seriously dating again. “Yes.”
Marcy took his hand. “Then all you can do is try. Maybe he’ll see that you’ve grown up, changed. You’re not a scared little boy anymore.”
“I might not be a little boy, but I’m terrified.”
“It’ll all work out like it’s supposed to.”
Like it’s supposed to. Jake hated that saying. He wanted it to work out like he wanted, damn it!
They sat at the table for a while, holding hands and drinking margaritas. The sun had gone down, and Jake stared at the moon shining down on the desert. As beautiful as it all was, he was ready to go home to hills and grass and trees.
Jake’s head was spinning a little, but he needed to know one more thing. “Us. We were good together for a while, weren’t we?”
“We were really good for a while,” Marcy said while she swayed in her chair. “You were an awesome husband, and you’re an awesome friend. I’m sorry we just weren’t awesome being married anymore.”
Jake lifted Marcy’s hand and kissed it. “I know. But you know what? We have two great kids. And we still like each other. How many couples who’ve known each other twentysomething years can say that?”
“Not a lot.” Marcy picked up the pitcher and sloshed the remaining contents around. “You wanna help me finish this off?”
Jake lifted his glass. “Absolutely.”
Chapter 2: 1986
IT HAD been a lonely few months in Atlanta. Jake had gone from being a high school baseball star to just another hick jock. It didn’t matter that his test scores and grades would have gotten him into Georgia Tech regardless of the baseball scholarship. The smart kids looked down their noses at him. And the other jocks? Until Jake played a game and played it well, he was only a wannabe freshman.
The first day of preseason training, it all started to turn around for him. He and the other freshman bonded over their mutual desire to prove they were worthy to wear the gold-and-white. They worked hard and cheered each other on. They quickly became favorites of the handful of regular practice spectators, who all seemed to have a soft spot for the awkward newcomers.
One spectator stood out. Jake tried not to stare, but he couldn’t stop his surreptitious glances at the man. Jake had known since forever that he could be turned on by men as well as women, but this was different. The man’s square jaw and tight swimmer’s body made Jake have evil, evil thoughts, thoughts of things way beyond the frenzied hand and blow jobs he’d experienced with other equally frightened high school boys.
Jake also had more tender thoughts, which he found slightly frightening. Every time the man brushed his hair from his eyes, Jake wondered if the hair was soft, how it would feel if he ran his fingers through it. He snuck enough glances to determine that the man’s almond-shaped eyes were a beautiful hazel, and, more often than not, those eyes were trained on Jake. Worst of all, Jake wanted to pull the man’s full bottom lip between his and find out how the man tasted. He had never kissed a man, but God, he wanted to kiss this one.
After a few weeks of torture, Jake decided he’d had enough. He might make a fool of himself. He might even get his ass kicked. But he was going to talk to the man who’d been starring in his dreams.
When practice was over, Jake hung back on the field, waiting for the other players to head toward the locker room and hopefully out of earshot. He’d noticed days before that the man would not leave right away; he’d linger, reading a book or relaxing on the bleachers. It was almost as if he were waiting for someone. Then again, Jake thought, that could be his own wishful thinking.
As he walked, Jake brushed off his pants and straightened his cap. When the man looked up from his book to see Jake heading his way, his smile was unmistakable. Jake was sure he’d never seen a clearer invitation to come closer, and he struggled to keep his feet from speeding up. He needed to play this cool, keep his intentions a secret until he was sure they were welcome.
“Hey.” Jake shoved his glove under his arm. “What you reading?”
The man waved the small paperback. “Oh, this? To Kill A Mockingbird. I have been told it is a classic American novel. I like it so far.”
Oh holy fuck, Jake thought. He has an accent on top of everything else. The man’s voice was cool and smooth, like a window in an air-conditioned room. It sent frissons cascading over Jake’s sweat-damp skin. Each word was clearly enunciated, crisp.
Jake sat down, leaving a respectable distance between them. “It is. I read it in high school, and it’s pretty good.”
The man folded the corner of a page and closed the book. “We read a few American novels in school in Finland, but not this one. I think I may recommend it to my teacher back home.”
“Finland? How did you end up here?”
“I wanted more sunshine and warmth. My family visited friends in Savannah once, and I fell in love with Georgia.”
“Well, you definitely came to the right place for sunshine.” Jake was positive if he heard much more of the man’s accent, he would melt on the spot. “I’m Jake Wilson,” he said, holding out his hand.
The man stared at Jake’s hand before finally shaking it. “I know,” he said. “I read about you in the student paper. My name is Mikko Niemi.”
Mikko. Jake liked the name. Solid. Exotic. Easy to say when you’re breathless and eager. “So, you a baseball fan, then?”
Mikko nodded. “Yes. I loved playing baseball in Finland, but our version—pesäpallo—is a bit faster.”
“Really?”
“The ball is pitched over the batter’s head.” Talking about baseball animated Mikko, and he gestured with large, long-fingered hands. “It results in quite a lively game. But I like the American version as well. It gives you more time to become acquainted with the players.” Mikko’s smile was gentle and friendly, but the look in his eyes was something more.
Jake was more than happy to let Mikko become as acquainted with him as possible. “Say, I reek, and I really need a shower. But you want to wait for me and have some dinner? I’d really like to hear more about Finnish baseball.” Or anything else that happens to come out of that gorgeous mouth.
“That would be great. Should I wai
t here?”
Jake hopped up, ready to run to the showers and then get back to Mikko. “Sure. Shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes.”
Mikko nodded and returned to his book. “No need to hurry. I won’t go anywhere.”
Jake wasn’t taking any chances. He sprinted to the locker room, threw off his practice uniform, and ran into the shower. He cleaned himself up as quickly as he could without basically just rinsing off, but he took a little more time getting ready. He dressed in the jeans and Guns N’ Roses T-shirt he’d left in his locker. He fussed over his hair, which he’d never had any luck taming.
By the time he got back to the bleachers, he was sure Mikko would be gone. As he took the last turn to the field, he was thrilled to see Mikko sitting there, still reading that book. When he reached the bottom bleacher row, Mikko smiled and climbed down to meet him.
“I have a place I think you’d like,” Jake said.
“Lead the way.”
As they walked, they talked about school. Turned out Mikko had also had a lonely first few months of his freshman year, and he hadn’t gone out exploring Atlanta much. He mentioned liking the food in Savannah, though, so Jake was sure dinner at his favorite meat-and-three would be perfect. When they arrived, they sat in a booth facing each other and read over the daily menu. Jake felt the occasion called for the fried chicken, while Mikko went for the cubed steak smothered in gravy.
Mikko talked about baseball, about how there were teams in Finland that also played the American version. He could have talked about belly-button lint and farts, and Jake wouldn’t have cared. All he wanted to do was listen to the man speak. It wasn’t just Mikko’s accent that drove Jake mad. It was also the passion with which he spoke, as if he was grateful to have Jake’s attention and wanted to keep it. Little did he know he didn’t have to work so hard.
“I think I am monopolizing the conversation. Tell me about yourself, Jake.”
Jake shrugged. “Not a lot to tell. I grew up in Georgia. In Waynesboro, the Bird Dog Capital of the World.”
“Bird Dog Capital?” Mikko laughed. “How does a town become the Bird Dog Capital of the World?”
“They just say so, I reckon. I’ve never really been anywhere else, except for a few schools I visited before deciding on Georgia Tech.”
Mikko took another bite of his steak and hummed. “This place is really good. You must bring me here again. Well, wasn’t that very demanding of me?” Mikko laughed. “We should come here again.”
“Oh, I don’t have a problem with demanding guys.” Jake blushed when he realized how that might sound.
“Good to know.” Mikko winked.
Jake took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Okay. How ’bout some dessert?”
“Aren’t you on a training diet?”
“Not tonight I’m not. You can’t eat a good Southern meal unless you’re willing to take in a few extra calories. I’ll just run an extra mile tomorrow morning.” Jake looked down at the dessert menu. “Would you be interested in running with me?”
Mikko patted his stomach. “Are you trying to say I need to exercise?”
Jake waved over the waitress. “Nope. Just like your company.” When the waitress arrived, Jake ordered a slice of chess pie. “Mind if I suggest something for you?”
“Not at all.”
“If you’ve never had Coca-Cola cake, you really should give it a try.”
“Well, Coca-Cola cake it is, then.”
The waitress gave the guys a nod and walked off. Just as Jake and Mikko finished up their meal, their desserts arrived.
“I’m not sure what I thought Coca-Cola cake would be,” Mikko said as he took his second bite. “But this is incredible.”
“It’s a little slice of chocolate heaven is what it is. My mom makes the best cake ever. This is probably a close second.”
“My father is the chef in our family. He owns a restaurant, and he makes a cloudberry mousse that is just incredible.”
Jake wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone whose father was the family cook. “What’s a cloudberry?”
“They are shaped a bit like raspberries, and they have a really nice tart flavor.”
“Think you inherited your dad’s cooking skills?”
“Maybe a little.” Mikko pointed at the cake. “I would like to know how to make this.”
“I’ll get my mom to send me the recipe.”
This simple statement made Mikko smile more than anything else had that night. “That would be nice.”
When the check came to the table, Jake declared that it was his treat since, after all, he’d suggested the place. Mikko argued, but when it became clear that Jake wouldn’t budge, he left the tip instead. As they walked, there was no mention of where they were headed or what they’d do once they got there. Jake just wanted to follow Mikko, so that’s what he did.
Mikko led Jake to a small off-campus apartment, and he held the door open for Jake to enter. Unlike Jake’s dorm room, Mikko’s apartment had a small living room and kitchen. It also appeared that Mikko didn’t have a roommate.
Mikko sat on the small sofa and motioned Jake to join him. It was something Jake would do on a date with a girl. Was this a date? Jake certainly hoped so.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Jake finally locked eyes with Mikko. “You seem like a nice guy, like someone who wouldn’t kick someone’s ass over a misunderstanding.”
Mikko frowned. “No, I wouldn’t.”
Jake nodded and looked down at the floor. “Do you like guys?”
“Like? Are you asking if I’m gay?”
“Yes.” Jake could feel the embarrassed blush bloom on his cheeks.
“I am. Does that offend you?”
“No, no.” Jake finally looked up with a smile, which Mikko returned. “I like guys too. I mean, I like girls and guys.”
Mikko slowly scooted closer. “I’m very happy to hear that.”
“Oh, good.” Jake scooted too, closing the distance between them. “I haven’t done much, though.”
“We don’t have to do much now.”
“Okay.” Jake let his head fall onto the back of the couch. “You are absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”
Mikko wrapped his arms around Jake’s waist. “I didn’t think you’d noticed me.”
“I noticed. I absolutely noticed. Those hazel eyes always watching me. How could I not?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Okay, “Jake whispered.
Jake resisted the impulse to close his eyes. He wanted to see Mikko move closer, and Mikko did, until Jake could feel Mikko’s breath on his face. When their lips finally touched, it was a soft kiss followed by another. Mikko pulled away, his brow furrowed and breath quickening. He returned to Jake’s mouth, and Jake felt the difference. The new kiss was hard, and his mouth was urged open by Mikko’s exploring tongue.
A girl’s kiss had never had this force behind it. Jake loved it, and he let Mikko take the kiss as fast and deep as he wanted. The scraping of stubble against his face made Jake hard, and he threaded his fingers through Mikko’s hair—oh, it was soft—and encouraged him by applying gentle pressure to the back of his head.
Mikko pushed Jake back until they were lying on the couch, their legs interlocked, so they both had the other’s thigh to grind against. And they grinded for all they were worth, chasing the release that could only come from orgasm. Mikko was hard as a rock against Jake’s leg, and Jake hoped one day he’d get to see all of Mikko.
“I’m almost there,” Mikko said against Jake’s lips.
“Holy fuck, me too.”
Mikko attacked Jake’s mouth again and refused to surrender it even as Jake came with deep moans. Jake’s entire body was a mass of overstimulated nerves throbbing in unison. Everything in the world had narrowed down to that couch and the man writhing above him. When Mikko buried his head into the crook of Jake’s neck and cried out, Jake held him and kissed his cheek until he came down.
Jake smiled and kissed Mikko. In that moment, Jake was glad too.
Chapter 3: Norman
JAKE barely made it through breakfast. His head was pounding, and his stomach was rioting. The smell of frying bacon almost made him vomit. He was never fucking drinking margaritas again.
He was grateful for the sunglasses Marcy had found for him. On the passenger seat next to him sat the small buffalo fetish Eddie had given him. The buffalo fetish was about great emotional courage, and Eddie had told Jake he had enough courage for everyone. Unsure of that but touched all the same, Jake had given Eddie a hug.
The drive from New Mexico through the Texas Panhandle to Oklahoma was straightforward, I-40 most of the way. Jake played calming music and stopped several times to buy large bottles of water and aspirin. His headache was gone by the time he drove onto the campus of the University of Oklahoma. He’d timed the trip perfectly. As he pulled up in front of Mitchell Park, his son walked out of the building.
“Dad!” Johnnie ran up to the SUV and jumped inside. His hair was much shorter than Jake remembered, but sometimes players cut a bunch off at the beginning of the season.
Jake clapped his son’s shoulder. “Hey there, Sport. How did practice go?”
“Great. I think I might get a good bit of pitching time during the season. Probably not starting, but definitely relief.”
“You’ve got time to be a starter. If you play well this season, I bet they’ll start you next season.”
Johnnie took off his cap and ran his fingers through his wet hair, which was dark blond like his father’s. “That’s what the sophomore pitchers said. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to tell when they’re being straight and when they’re yanking a freshman’s chain, ya know?”
“Yeah, I remember being a freshman. They’re not hazing you, are they?”
Johnnie laughed. “Nothing bad. We’ll have to wear something stupid to the first game. Probably pink tutus or something.”
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