“I haven’t missed a single game in four years. Not gonna start now,” Elliot answered, his voice low and husky.
Damon’s eyebrows pulled together in gratitude. He nodded like a bobblehead. “No. You never have. You’re like my biggest fan.” His face fell. “Or…well, I guess, you were…before I fucked up—”
Elliot wasn’t thinking when he released the chain-link fence and threaded his fingers through the metal that Damon grabbed, effectively holding his hand from the other side.
“I’ll always be your biggest fan, Damon.”
Damon’s bottom lip trembled; his dark eyes became intense, searching, probing.
The corner of Elliot’s mouth quirked up. It wasn’t often he could leave Damon speechless.
Damon’s throat worked in a hard swallow. “I’m so sorry for—” He glanced around at the people surrounding them. Elliot expected him to pull his hand away, but he didn’t. “I’m sorry for forcing you to tell me your secret. You were right. I’m not entitled to know everything. You deserve privacy, and I’m sorry. So sorry. I’myourbiggest fan, Elliot. Always.”
Damon moved his other hand—the one that Elliot wasn’t holding—and he threaded his fingers over top of Elliot’s free hand.
His stomach swooped. At some point, their faces had gotten closer to the chain-link fence. They’d be close enough to kiss if the metal wasn’t in the way.
A whistle blew, and they startled. Damon turned toward the dugouts, and Elliot reluctantly stepped back, pulling his hands away.
“It’s okay, Montré,” Elliot said. “Go knock ‘em out of the park, yeah? I’m skipping studying to be here, so you better not let your biggest fan down.”
Damon turned back to Elliot with a crooked grin. “You got it, Croft.” He scooped up his discarded glove and jogged away.
Elliot tried (and failed) to not watch his ass in his tight baseball pants as he crossed the field.
Chapter Six
Damon was on fire tonight. Elliot had come to his game, and he’d forgiven him.
Damon had been super depressed at practice yesterday because he knew he’d walk up to the plate and look up to the normal spot that Elliot always sat and it’d be empty—or worse, someone else would be sitting there.
But his best friend was exactly where he was supposed to be.
And he had the perfect view to watch Damon hit the ball out of the park, just like Elliot had asked. Damon pointed up to the stands to let Elliot know that one was for him.
Elliot smiled and shook his head.
Damon went into the next inning confident that he could take his team to the finals for the third year in a row, but that feeling didn’t last long because as Damon ran for the fly ball, he knew the second he collided, head first, with his teammate and hit the ground that neither of them had caught it.
His final thought before he blacked out wasShit, Elliot’s going to be so upset.
The world was spinning, and his head throbbed. God, it hurt so fucking bad.
“Damon? Damon!”
He smiled when he heard Elliot’s voice, or he tried to, but moving his face sent shooting pain through his head. “No worries. S’fine.”
“You need to step back.”
“Elliot. Get back. Let the paramedics do their job.”
“Damon!” Elliot yelled. “No, come on. I can help him. I can—”
“S’okay, Elliot. I’m fine. Totally fine.”
“Shh,” a medic said. “Don’t try to talk right now.”
Damon tried to look around, to find Elliot, but his vision was spotty, and someone was holding his head in one place.
