XXX CHAPTER 46 XXX

Some practices were rougher than others. The day of the "great slide" was one such practice.

Could Emmett have delivered his lesson to the little Lumpsuckers without knocking Edward's feet out from under him? Probably. Could he have gotten up without grinding his crotch against Edward's? Definitely. Would he change any of it if given the chance? Hell, no.

The wrath of slid-into Ed was a tidal wave of ire powerful enough to carry them through the rest of the season. Delivered through tightly clenched teeth, Edward's, "Blow me!" sent a shiver down Emmett's spine. Perhaps they were playing their parts too well at this point in the game.

Nevertheless, Emmett was reassured about their off-field relationship as they dragged the mesh bag to Edward's car together.

"I need to ask you something," Edward said.

Grinning, Emmett answered, "Want me to replay that slide again? Maybe sans cups?"

Edward shot him a don't-push-your-luck glare. "Not even close."

"Guy's gotta try."

"Rosalie asked me—no, commanded me—to ask you to donate something to the school auction."

"Auction, huh? Is this one of those kinky deals where the suburban housewives get all stupid on Cosmos and bid on shirtless beefcakes?"

Edward's nose twitched with disgust. "Jeez, what if it is?"

Emmett shrugged. "I don't really mind the looking, and God knows I'm used to being bought and sold . . . but I don't think my boyfriend would much appreciate some random lady putting her hands all over my body."

"No, I'm pretty damn sure he wouldn't."

Emmett snorted. "So, what's the expectation here? Do I have to be somebody's bitch for the night?"

"For crying out loud, it's an elementary school. I'm sure they'll keep it clean."

"Uh, have you met your boss?"

"Yeah . . . come to think of it, she'd most likely be your top bidder."

"There's a lovely thought."

"Seriously, if you could donate a signed cap or picture, that would be great."

"That sounds a bit more doable."

Edward chucked the equipment bag in the trunk of his Volvo, and they stood for a moment behind the lifted trunk lid. "Thanks, Em. You know how much I hate asking you for shit like this."

"I do. It's adorable, actually, but don't give it a second thought. It's standard PR for the team."

"Well, I'm sure all the teachers will appreciate it. These Smartboards are all the rage." Edward wiggled his fingers in the air to illustrate the excitement.

"Well, then, let's get the fine faculty of Seven Hills some Smartboards, shall we?" Emmett walked Edward around to his door. "Hey, how much do you think my jock would go for?"

Edward rolled his gaze down Emmett's jersey, landing squarely on his crotch. "The one you're wearing right now?"

Emmett smirked. "Yep. The blue one. Your favorite."

"Oh, let's see . . . I'd say . . . probably about . . . nothing!" Edward's words were bold, but his blush told the real story.

Jabbing him playfully with his elbow, Emmett replied, "I know you'd bid at least a buck for it. You could put it on your bed next to my cap."

"That makes a lovely mental picture. Thank you so much." Edward pulled the car door closed, but Emmett wasn't about to let Edward have the final word.

He knocked on the window and waited patiently while Edward turned on the car and rolled down the window. "Yes?" Edward made sure Emmett heard the sarcasm dripping off his voice.

"If you hurry home, you can have a private viewing before the bidding opens."

XXX

Monday's practice had been particularly trying for Edward. Spring fever had invaded, and the kids were restless. Edward's famous classroom management techniques couldn't compete with caterpillars and grasshoppers—let alone clouds.

Emmett gallantly stepped in to offer his Major League advice: a spirit cheer would do the trick. The idea was brilliant; the execution, not so much.

Gathering the little critters into a tight circle, Emmett taught them how to pile up their hands in the middle, insisting on Edward's participation when he blanched. Emmett slapped his hand on top of the coach's, offering his support with a light brush of his fingertip along Edward's knuckle. Okay, maybe the tickle was meant to be a slight tease, but Edward definitely needed some lightening up.

Once the gathering and piling and teasing were done, the moment of truth descended. Emmett realized he had absolutely nothing in his Major League repertoire that would be even close to appropriate for the twelve pairs of eyes gazing up at him with wonder and awe. Crap.

Engage the kids in their own learning, Edward would say. Okay, then.

"What would a lumpsucker do better than anyone else?"

Bless his heart, Sawyer belted out, "Suck lumps!"

That's when the woodchuck rhyme popped into Emmett's head with a most unfortunate vengeance. And like most of what popped into Emmett's head, the tongue-twister exited his mouth without benefit of filtration.

"I got it! Repeat after me . . . How many lumps would a lumpsucker suck if a lumpsucker could suck lumps?"

Hence, the cold shoulder Monday night.

Edward could forgive Emmett anything unless it involved the kids. Emmett got it; he'd messed up big time. If he could've taken back the words, he gladly would have.

Still, Emmett suspected something much bigger than an inappropriate chant was bothering his boyfriend. With the Lumpsuckers' season finale—and their final appearance together in front of their largest audience yet—only days away, Edward was edgier than Emmett had ever seen him. Emmett's salary talks seemed log jammed, and the intense glare of the microscope put an added strain on every public interaction between the two of them.

Come Friday at 5:01 p.m., this would all be behind them. They could go back to their happy, private lives with no one the wiser. But for now, Edward's game face bled into their week in a way neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

That became Emmett's mantra as Tuesday evening's dinner conversation wore thin. They shared a quick fuck and rolled over to their own sides of the bed. Emmett slept poorly, and judging from the tossing and turning on the opposite side of the mattress, Edward didn't fare much better.

After dinner on Wednesday, Edward checkmated Emmett in twenty-six quick moves—a clear sign he needed his own space. Edward's thoughts seemed far away when they sank into bed together. Emmett had the strong feeling they were both having sex just to avoid the monumental statistical consequences of breaking their perfect record. It was easier to fuck than talk about why they didn't.

Thursday, Emmett made it easy on both of them by going to his sister's for dinner. Jasper was far too perceptive not to notice Emmett's mood, but he was also wise enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Emmett shared some last-minute tips with Sawyer and left soon after his nephew went to bed. Emmett's bed was cold and lonely, but he knew sharing a bed with Edward would've been worse.

XXX

"Oh, Emmett! Emmm-mett!"

Ignoring Rosalie Hale wasn't going to make her go away; it would only make her more persistent.

Emmett tried a polite brush-off. "I'm going to be late for our last game."

She wrapped her claws around Emmett's forearm, and it was all he could do not to pull away. "I'm not going to keep you. I just wanted to thank you . . . perrrrrsonally . . . for the autographed team ball. I'm sure it will bring in a pretty penny. It was most generous of you."

"No problem. You're welcome. Yeah, I should—"

"In case I miss you after the game, let me just take a moment to thank you again for all you've done for the team."

"Right. Speaking of the little Lumpsuckers . . ."

"Oh yes, of course." She loosened her grasp, and Emmett slipped out of her clutches. "Good luck today, and please feel free to drop by anytime . . . to visit Sawyer . . ."

"Yep, thanks." Emmett jogged to the field, Rosalie's hot gaze warming his ass cheeks the whole way. Emmett reached the knot of little bodies just in time to hear the lame, "What are we gonna do tonight?" Recognizing his chance to make amends, Emmett jumped into the circle, announcing his entrance with a swat on his lover's ass.

"I got this," Emmett said, adding a squeeze before releasing Edward's butt cheek. "Stick your hand in there."

"You first," Edward answered.

Challenge accepted. "You want to be on top this time?" Emmett raised his eyebrows, smiled, and pinched Edward's ass again before reaching his hand into the pile. "I'm versatile, too."

A bit deer-in-the-headlighted by Emmett's unexpected comment, Edward stood with his mouth agape. Emmett's lover was an open book to match his open mouth; Emmett knew exactly where Edward's thoughts had gone because Emmett's had gone there, too—pinned to the floor under his sexy math teacher, who was riding Emmett like a jockey going after the Triple Crown.

"Ready, guys?" Emmett grinned and led the chant. "2-4-6-8, who do we appreciate?"

"Coach Cullen!" they screamed.

Edward blushed and gave Emmett a sheepish grin. It was a start.

"What's the lineup?" Emmett asked.

"Victoria first, followed by Sawyer, Bree, and Riley."

"I like it." Emmett's validation drew a relieved breath from Edward.

Emmett took his place just outside the chalk line to first base, yelling and cheering Victoria on until her sneaker hit the plastic. He gave her a high-five and reminded her to take her two-step leadoff.

Edward said something to Sawyer as he stepped up to the tee. Whatever it was must've worked because Sawyer hit a perfect line drive toward third, easily a double. Emmett tracked the ball like a bloodhound, logging every player's movement with the ease of a chess master predicting the next moves. He coaxed Victoria through second base and onto third while waving Sawyer to second—but . . . Wait! What the hell was Edward yelling?

"GO BACK, SAWYER! STICK AT SECOND, VICTORIA!"

Obedient to a fault, Victoria hugged second with all her might, not budging when Sawyer slid into the opposite side of the plastic diamond.

Edward was screaming, "Tell him to go back!" but Emmett could only watch, dumbfounded while the shortstop effortlessly tagged out Sawyer. The poor kid took it hard, kicking the dirt, tossing down his cap, and scowling at Victoria. Time for an intervention, but Emmett wasn't exactly sure whose.

Emmett tapped his nephew's elbow, called "Time out," and jogged to home plate with the boy.

"That wasn't fair!" Sawyer yelled.

Emmett agreed but knew better than to say so out loud. He bit his tongue and let Edward handle it.

Crouching down in front of the boy, Edward attempted to pacify him. "We had a plan, Sawyer. Remember?"

"But Uncle Emmett sent me to second . . . and I made it!"

Edward glanced up at Emmett, pain deeply etched into Edward's eyes as the full force of Sawyer's disappointment tore at his heart, but there was to be no absolution from Emmett.

Edward offered his justification. Which of the three of them Edward was trying to convince, Emmett couldn't have said. "Tee-ball is a team sport, Sawyer."

"But—" Sawyer was cut short by a firm squeeze of his shoulder. The boy looked up at his uncle, who gave him a shake of his head.

This part was clear-cut for Emmett, ingrained in him from his earliest practice. "Never talk back to your coach. Go sit on the bench, Soy."

Edward gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for the backup."

Emmett leaned in close and unleashed his anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I thought you agreed—"

"That was an idiotic move. You slaughtered your own player!" Emmett's emotions were getting the better of him, but he couldn't seem to contain his agitation.

Edward fought back with his own venomous accusation. "You were showboating at the expense of my players!"

"It's called 'winning,' asshole."

"There are more important things than winning, dickwad."

That's when Emmett shoved him.

A terrible avalanche of little bodies followed, and Emmett watched with horror as Edward toppled his batting lineup one innocent child at a time. Emmett grasped Edward by the wrist to pull him off of Bree, but Edward took the opportunity to yank Emmett to the ground. Emmett struggled to his feet, only to have his legs kicked out from under him by a very un-Edwardly Edward. Emmett was pissed as hell, but he had to admit, Edward was impressively scrappy when perturbed.

The two wrestled and swore at each other as their joined bodies rolled toward the mound, kicking up dust and the attention of everyone on the sidelines. The pent-up passion produced by ten weeks of hiding in plain sight exploded like a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls poked with a spoon.

"Why am I even here if you're not going to listen to my advice?"

"Are you shitting me?" Edward flipped Emmett onto his back and pinned his hands over his head. "We agreed you would keep your ass off my field! And what's the very first thing you do?"

Emmett stared up at Edward, flapping his jaw but showing the good sense not to respond. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths that matched his boyfriend's. The realization that they'd taken things a bit too far hit Emmett a split second before Edward said, "Oh, shit."

Emmett followed Edward's gaze to a pair of red pumps striding toward them with purpose. Whatever punishment Rose was about to mete out, Emmett needed Edward to know he regretted his part in the shit storm. "Is it too late to say I'm sorry?"

"Don't really think it's gonna help," Edward answered. "Damn, I kind of liked this job, too."

Emmett's heart sank. This whole fucking mess was his fault, and now he'd gotten Edward fired. "Let me do the talking," Emmett said.

"Stand up. Both of you."

Emmett caught Edward's I'm-so-fucked gaze as they rose to face the music.

"Follow me," Rosalie said through tightly clenched teeth.

They followed her teetering heels off the field and away from the crowd's prying eyes. Emmett would've given the moon and stars to clasp Edward's hand, but he settled for bumping shoulders with Edward as they walked to their doom.

"I don't get it," she said. "Why is it so damn hard for you two to work together?"

For all his bravado earlier, Emmett couldn't put together two words to save either of their lives.

One of the red pumps tapped out an angry beat. "We have one more game left—that's one lousy hour. There are fifty feet of field from one end to the other; do the math, Dr. Cullen. That's a pretty large area for two grown men. Do you think you two divas could kiss and make up and get your asses back out there without humiliating the school?"

Maybe if Rosalie hadn't phrased it quite that way, what happened next might not have—at least not right then and there. But she'd said it—kiss and make up—and by God, that was exactly what needed doing. Ramifications be damned! Big Mac needed to kiss his boyfriend.

"Fuck it!" Emmett burst, grasping the back of Edward's neck and pulling him in for a deep, hard kiss. Edward's body surrendered: mouth open, eyes shut, that tiny whimper of desire that always demolished Emmett just before their lips collided. Their kiss wasn't gentle, and it wasn't quick.

Emmett couldn't help grinning like a total loon when he finally released Edward. "I really fucking needed that."

Only slightly more surprised than Edward, Rosalie stared slack-jawed. "You're gay?"

"Yes." Emmett and Edward answered in unison, looked at each other, and laughed.

"Wait, what? You knew about this, Edward?" Rose asked, moving her hands to her hips.

"Yes, you might say that," Edward answered curtly, his eyes locked with Emmett's. "Baby, what about your contract?"

Emmett shrugged. "Fuck the contract. I'm tired of hiding. If the Mariners have a problem with that, they can kiss my ass."

Edward's smile stretched from sea to shining sea. "You mean that?"

"I do."

Edward swooped in for another kiss. "Does this mean you'll move in with me now? As in, fill all my drawers with your junk?"

Emmett bent in half with laughter. "Oh, Professor, you do have a way with words, but ix-nay on the irty-day talk in front of your oss-bay."

Edward rolled his eyes and attempted to rein in his boyfriend. "You're punch drunk, Mac."

"You bet I am! And hell no, I will not move in with you!" Emmett chuckled. "Dude, I have the penthouse suite in the most luxurious building on the waterfront. Pack your bags, Euclid, and don't forget my cap!"

"Hold on, Romeo . . . and Romeo." Rosalie pointed an accusing finger back and forth between the men. "You two made a fool of me," she said.

Emmett guffawed, and Edward elbowed him in the belly. "Um, Rose," Edward said, stopping short of stating the obvious.

"Okay, fine," she said. "I made a fool of myself."

Emmett offered her a handshake. "No harm done. I think you might've actually done us both a gigantic favor. It was time."

Rosalie turned back to Edward, shook her head, and chuffed. "Cullen, you are one lucky math teacher."

Edward beamed at him, and Emmett knew in that instant, it would all work out—at least with Rosalie. "Come on, Coach. We have a game to not win."

They returned to a restless crowd probably looking for some kind of explanation they were not going to get. Emmett swatted Edward's ass and jogged out to second base, leaving Edward on the bench to deal with the chaos of his team and the remains of the game.

Emmett could've kept right on jogging, as light as his chest felt. For the first time ever, he was free to ogle the man he loved right there in the open air of the baseball diamond. The self-imposed shackles fell away. The closet door was flung wide open, and the skeletons tumbled out—well, sort of. They were still on a field with two dozen little kids and a crowd of parents, and this wasn't the Emmett McCarty Coming Out Ball, after all. The kisses and the declarations would have to wait, but instead of making Emmett feel ill, the idea of finally stepping into the light left him positively giddy.

Author's Note: And here we are! Out...ish. I hope this and the previous chapter were illuminating. :)

I'm so proud to announce that my friend Shell Taylor's (aka shellshock81) FIRST NOVEL IS BEING RELEASED by Dreamspinner Press on Oct. 5. Redeeming Hope started out here on fanfic as "Building Hope", a beautiful story you might remember about "2-1/2 men" (forgive my editorializing, Shell!) who twist up each other's hearts-and ours along with them. The original story was completely reworked, expanded, and improved upon for publishing, and I can't say enough good things about the book (but if you want to see my attempt, check out my Goodreads page for my review!). If you're a fan of m/m romance, the themes, characters, plot, and dialogue will carry you to a very special place. Go and pre-order book one of the 3-book series so it'll be in your hands soon! And send Shell some love! FF-dot-net hates external links, so just google the book or head to Amazon or DP for yours today!
xxx ~BOH