Sweet Spot

Prologue

(Nick)

There's a saying in baseball that women are the easiest way to implode your career. Foolishly, I thought I'd be exempted from that particular curse since I'd never met a woman who did anything for me. And since it'd been taboo to be a gay professional athlete until a few years ago, I didn't think anyone would have the opportunity to derail my career. That was, until I met Cody Marshall.

I dropped my head between my shoulders and tangled my fingers through my hair as Tim Price patted me on the back on his way out of the office. At the beginning of spring training, I'd been a hot prospect for the Triple-A club, but over the past two weeks, I'd somehow gone from one step away from the Bigs to hoping like hell I hadn't fucked up so bad I'd wind up playing A ball this year. He hollered for the rest of the guys to meet him on field three, but he'd wanted to chat with me before making the first massive round of moves for the year.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Stone. Most guys your age don't have a snowball's chance in hell of Triple-A in their first full season." Price's words were hollow consolation as the chatter behind me faded. I wasn't like most guys my age. Like it or not, I was the GM's son, and that meant I was held to a higher standard. Everyone told me I was full of shit for thinking I was under more scrutiny because of my dad, but I didn't believe them. None of them had been pulled into Price's office and given a pep talk before finding out they'd been knocked down a level. They wouldn't need time to get over the news, because they understood it was part of the game. Sure, they'd be disappointed, but none of them were trying to figure out a way to sneak out of the club and run away because it was better than facing their teammates.

"Time's up, kid," Price said as he walked past his office.

Pushing myself out of that chair was one of the hardest things I'd had to do in my short life. Far more difficult than taking the mound in game three of the College World Series, knowing my teammates were depending on me to bring in the win. I pulled my cap lower on my head as I followed Price out to the field. No one could know Price had already told me what was on the clipboard he was carrying. If they did, it'd be the start of some asshole down the road talking about how I got where I am because I'm Marcus Stone's kid. I've been trying to outrun his shadow my entire life.

I fell into place next to Clint Davies, the roommate who'd been covering for me the past two weeks so I could sneak out and spend time with Cody. God, Cody. As if my shittastic day wasn't wonderful enough already, I had no choice but to tell him we couldn't keep going the way we were. I couldn't tell you a single name Price rattled off to assemble our new squads because all I could think about was Cody. I told myself I was worried about breaking the poor kid's heart, but the truth was I was just as worried about myself. It terrified me to think that the damage was already done; that my career was over before it began and all I'd have to show for it was the pulverized remains of my own heart.

Yes, it was melodramatic as hell, but such is life when you're twenty years old and facing the demise of everything you've worked toward since you were five. Mom told everyone I was her all-or-nothing kid and she was right. Once I tasted the combination of chocolate milk and Cody, there was nothing I could do to keep from falling for him. He was younger than me by two years. Cast aside by those who should have loved him unconditionally. Rescued by those with no obligation. And despite everything he'd been through, he had this infectious optimism I needed in my life. I wasn't sure if it was love at first sight, but it was sure as hell something I'd never felt before. And it had to end.

"Stone, you with us or are you going to stand there hoping Price says he made a mistake?" Clint teased me. He tugged on my arm and led me toward field six, which was apparently where the High-A squad was starting the day's workout rotation. "Man, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you'd better sort it out. Quick."