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I was so excited for Dom. He and Heath were going to be amazing dads, so that was something bright to think about instead of the Echo bullshit.

The group had formed before I moved to Corsica, and they’d kind of adopted me when I came to coach and started hanging out with Dom. It was nice to have a circle of friends who were also queer and who I could relate to on a deep level. I’d been so worried about that when I moved, that I wouldn’t be able to find friends. I had a few long-distance friendships, but being able to call someone up and be at their house a few minutes later was a blessing.

“I’m so freaking happy for you,” I told Dom as he drove me back to my car at CHS.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, but we didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case it fell through, which it still might. We’re trying to prepare ourselves for disappointment.”

“It’s going to work out,” I said, and he slid me a look.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” I reached out and squeezed his hand.

The kitties were apoplectic when I got home, because they’d had to wait a few hours for their wet food. Poor dears. They were never going to forget this treatment.

“Jail for mother for one thousand years,” I said, as they chomped down as if they’d never eaten before.

I scrolled through my phone, looking for baby items to buy for Dom and Heath and trying to decide if I wanted to get another snack, or if I was just bored. That usually led me to my favorite used jewelry site and in a few weeks a ring that had belonged to at least five people who had died mysterious deaths would show up at my door that I wouldn’t remember buying.

I’d given the squad the day off tomorrow, and myself a day off as well. They needed time off to rest and for their muscles to heal. Pretty soon I’d be pushing them to their limits, but they’d done a good job today and deserved a break.

I was also extremely strict about school and homework getting done, so I hoped they would at least have some time for academics. More than a few times I’d been a tutor for one of my kids who needed some extra help. I shoved them toward Dom for anything math or science-related, and I handled all the humanities.

Grabbing a bag of ranch-flavored chips, I crashed on the couch and put on my favorite trashy reality show, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up from an impromptu nap.

“What the fuck?” I sat up and the bag of chips fell on the floor and spilled everywhere. The cats seized their moment and started licking and pawing at them, but soon decided that the chips were not kitty food and glared at me in betrayal.

“Fuck,” I said, wiping my eyes, and then almost screaming because there was still ranch dust on my fingers that I’d just smeared in my eyes.

“Shit, fuck,” I said, using my shirt to wipe my eyes. I got up from the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. Most of my lights were still on. I really had conked out.

I did my best to get the ranch seasoning out of my eyes and then washed my face. Not enough energy for an actual shower. I stripped out of the outfit I’d worn today and left it on the bathroom floor.

I ran my hands through my hair and tried not to think about the dream I’d just had. It was vivid and . . . less of a dream and more of a memory. A memory of sweaty skin sliding across more sweaty skin. Of panting and trying to be quiet and the thrill of almost getting caught sharpening the edges of desire.

My hookup with Echo roared in my mind, along with the ghost of the sound she’d made when she came. Oh, I’d made her come again and again, and she had returned the favor. That was the only nice thing I could say about Echo: she gave excellent head.

“Fuck,” I said again, and rinsed a face cloth in cold water and pressed it to the back of my neck. In the mirror, my cheeks were flushed, and my chest heaved as if I was out of breath.

This was going to be a long competition season.