Page 102 of Serving Bunt

Because we had.

This season had nearly broken us, and now we were one out away from a playoff berth and, hopefully, a second trip to the World Series.

Pink looked around the circle.

“Anybody got anything else to add?” he asked. “Any final wisdom? Regrets? Secret identities?”

“Pink, I am your father,” Tucker deadpanned.

Pink nodded solemnly.

“I knew it.”

Soren shook his head like an exhausted dad who’d just found crayon art scribbled on the walls. Considering his wife was due in a few months, it was probably good practice. Not that he needed it. He’d already spent years managing the emotional well-being of professional baseball players.

A newborn would probably be easier.

Pink tucked his glove under his arm and cocked his hip. “Seriously, though. If you’ve got something to say, get it off your chest now.”

Roman smirked. “Should we talk about the fact that the team’s batting average went up the second we made you shave that thing off your face?”

Pink touched the smooth skin above his lip protectively. “It was distinguished!”

“It was a war crime.”

Pink opened his mouth to argue again, but I felt the words rising in my throat before I could stop them.

“Actually . . .” I choked. “I have something to say.”

I looked toward left again, toward the man who had no idea what I was about to do, and smiled despite myself.

This wasn’t planned. I hadn’t meant to do this on the mound, during the most important game of the season. But looking out at Diaz, knowing how much we were both risking to be together, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I swallowed hard, pulse roaring in my ears.

“Diaz and I are together.”

The mound went dead silent.

Roman’s head whipped toward left field so fast I thought he might pull a muscle. Tucker and Bennett followed.

Then, Soren.

Then, Pink.

Until all five of them were staring at Diaz, who in return lifted his glove in confusion.

I nearly laughed.

A scream rang out in the stands. Somewhere nearby, a beer vendor shouted about peanuts. The world kept moving.

But the mound didn’t.

Pink blinked.

“Together,” he repeated.

“Like . . . together together?” Tucker asked.