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Elliot, ever the king of brutal honesty, arched a brow. “Are you saying you’re gay in the sheets, but straight in the streets?”
Mateo choked on his beer.
I smacked Elliot’s arm. “Jesus Christ, babe!”
Elliot just grinned, taking a sip of his drink. “Just checking my notes.”
Mateo wiped his mouth, glaring. “Fuck both of you.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Okay, look, maybe you haven’t been the most visible gay coach in America, but you know what? That doesn’t make you any less of a great mentor to your kids.”
Mateo stared at me.
I kept going. “Gabeshowed up, didn’t he? He still walked into that room. Maybe part of him was terrified to see you there, but another part of him probably felt . . . relieved.”
Mateo’s jaw tightened.
I pressed on. “Because you being there means he isn’t alone. And now? Now, you get to be that person for him. You get to make sure he never feels like he has to hide again.”
The words settled deep.
Mateo nodded slowly, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah.”
Elliot raised his beer. “To Gabe. And to Coach Mateo Ricci, who just realized he’s been living in a closet this whole time.”
Mateo rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips.
I lifted my own bottle. “To whatever the hell just happened tonight.”
Mateo smirked. “And to the gayest sports bar in existence.”
Chapter forty-nine
Elliot
MikeandIstoodbefore Mrs. H’s house as the sun was starting to set, the warm glow making her tiny front yard look almost idyllic. Almost. That illusion shattered the second we stepped onto her porch and heard what could only be described as a war zone coming from inside.
Clanging pots.
The distinct sound of a wooden spoon hitting a counter.
Mrs. H’s thick brogue, shouting something that might have been Gaelic, or possibly just aggressive swearing. It was hard to tell.
I glanced at Mike.
He exhaled. “We should turn back now.”
“Coward.”
He glared. “I value my life.”
“Remind me why we didn’t do this at my house,” I said.
“Why not mine?” He pooched out his lower lip in defiance.
“Because we want everyone to have an edible meal.”
His brows bunched, then he grinned. “Fuck you.”