Page 100 of Run Home

“Hey, I think my Rs are really improving,” I insist. It’s absolutely a joke. Because I am not improving.

He looks over at me with a mischievous smile. “Let’s hear that rolled R.”

“No!” I exclaim. “I will not be embarrassing myself right now.”

He rolls his tongue as he leans over to press a kiss to my neck, and I catch his face to press a kiss to his lips. The car behind us honks, and Adrián quickly straightens and pulls forward through the green light, only to turn off into a parking lot.

He removes both of our sunglasses and greedily steals back my kiss, and I don’t put up any fight. I willingly surrender to his need for connection after an emotionally draining end to his dad’s visit.

The tone of Adrián’s kiss gradually shifts, less desperate and seeking to more thoughtful and cherishing. When he breaks away, he presses his lips to my cheek, my temple, my forehead. “I love you, cielo. I love you more than anything. I’d be crushed without you. I think I understand . . . I understand why my dad was the way he was after my mom died. The darkness he fought to survive. Because if you . . . if I lost . . .” He breaks off and wipes his eyes. Mine burn, but I blink away the moisture.

His voice is husky when he finally finishes, “It would be dark.”

I take his face in my hands and kiss him gently. Whispering, I tell him, “The earth turned to bring us closer. I’m staying in this dream with you.” I kiss his cheek, wet with tears, before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He cups his hand behind my head, holding me tight.

We don’t hurry away from the heavy moment.

We sit in it together.

“I’m so glad you got to spend some good time with Adrian and his dad,” Danae says. Jason and Griffin are on the other side of her, dissecting a double play that got two of our runners out. Carson still made it to first, and Griffin is explaining to Jason how they could have thrown differently to make it a triple play.

“It was really special. He said he’ll take me to see Venezuela during the offseason. I can’t wait to see where he grew up,” I say.

Danae’s eyes narrow as she assesses me. “Planning a visit together to his home country. That’s serious.”

Shifting in my seat, I start to get defensive. But then, I realize that there’s nothing to defend—I’m entirely confident in my relationship with Adrián. Confident in how I truly feel about him and how he truly feels about me. Confident about the possibilities in our future.

“It is. Because we are. And I think it’s a healthy place for us to be,” I say.

Danae smiles. “I’m not trying to cast doubt or make you think I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to hold up my end of the boundaries you tasked me with.”

“I appreciate that,” I say. “I know it’s different this time. Not that it’s easy. And not that I’m beyond ever struggling again. But it’s real.”

“And I love it,” Danae says right before the crowd around us groans at the third out of the inning.

We head into the final inning of the game down by one score, and I will every ounce of positive energy I possess across the field to Adrián. When he reaches his spot at third base, he looks our direction. I press both hands over my heart, and a split second later, he presses a hand over his.

Thirty minutes later, Adrián gets doused in Gatorade after batting in the winning runs.

I rode here with Danae and Griffin, but they left to take Jason home instead of staying to see Adrián after the game. I stand in the waiting area, chatting with some other players’ friends and family until Adrián emerges from the locker room. The camera crew follows behind him, still getting as much footage as they can leading up to the playoffs. He’s intentionally kept me out of the filming so far, not wanting me to feel the pressure of airing our relationship on a worldwide streaming series.

But tonight, Adrián walks straight to me. I start to congratulate him on the game when he cuts me off with a light kiss. When he straightens, I whisper, “I love you.”

Placing his arm around my shoulders, he presses me to his side. I loop my arm around his back, and we walk out to the parking lot together. The camera crew follows initially, but Adrián turns over his shoulder to say “See you next week” in a polite dismissal.

“I hate that you’ll be gone for back-to-back away series now,” I whine as Adrián opens the car door for me. Once we’re both settled in our seats, I muse, “Maybe I should start blocking off my salon calendar when you’re gone so long so I could travel to one of your away series.”

“No,” Adrián instantly replies. He softens his tone, “I don’t want you to change your schedule for mine. Your career is just as important. I’m not gonna ask you to drop important things in your life to work around the team schedule.”

I give him a tender yet stern look as I say, “You’re not asking me to. I’m saying I might want to. Not every time. But maybe sometimes. Because I hate being away from you for so long. And I love watching you play.”

Adrián grins. “Yeah?”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Like that’s any surprise, menso. I’m pretty sure you play better when I’m watching anyway.”

“I won’t argue with that,” he says. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him as he murmurs, “Because I like you watching me.”

He kisses me slowly, and I relish every sensation. The brush of his goatee against my chin. The brush of his tongue against mine. The brush of his fingers through my hair.