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Six o’clock arrived with the vibrating sound of a cell phone somewhere in the room. I sat up, bleary-eyed, Noah’s ass pressed to my thigh. Leaving that bed was cruel and unusual, but I had morning skate. So, I made myself toss back the covers over Noah and Mat and hurry to find my pants. Once I had them, I removed the phone from my pocket, turned the alarm off, gathered my clothes from the floor, and softly padded to the living room to find my bag.
Shoving the grimy stuff in with the clean, I pulled out the suit I’d worn to the parole hearing. It was kind of wrinkled, but it would have to do. Maybe I should move some of my stuff down here? Would Mat and Noah be okay with that? Or would that be pushy? Yeah, probably so, but man, it would be easier.
Naked and chilled, I went to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The first blast was cold, but the water heated quickly. Rubbing my hands over my face as jets of water pounded down on my head, I tried to scrub away the gumminess of sleep. There had been a dream prowling around like a panther, just on the edges of the jungle, waiting for my subconscious to step a little closer. I couldn’t pull up what the dream was about or who, but it left me feeling uneasy.
“Knock, knock.”
I lowered my hands at the sound of Mateo’s voice. “Hey. Did the phone wake you up?”
“It’s cool. Had to piss anyway. Guess I should shower and go buy a paper.” I watched him through the shower curtain walking to the toilet then standing there.
“Save water, shower with a friend.” I pulled back the curtain as he closed the lid on the toilet. He was such a beautiful sight. Tall and bronze, the glow of athletic energy and power radiating from him. But his eyes were sad.
“I think we’re kind of past friends.” My gaze moved over him, lingering on his soft dick before going back to his melancholy eyes.
“I think so too.”
Mat stepped into the stall, and I closed the curtain. He closed his eyes when the mist hit him, and I watched small beads of water gather on his thick, dark lashes.
“So, want to tell me why you’re home so early?” I asked, reaching for the bottle of shampoo then nudging him gently to trade places and wet himself down well. He slipped around me, our chests brushing, and I grabbed a fast kiss before turning him into the spray. I was kind of transfixed for a moment, enjoying the rush of water over flexing biceps and following the small rivers as they raced down his spine over the divot of his lower back and the into the crack of his firm ass.
“I got sent down,” he finally replied, pulling me from admiring his glutes.
I squeezed a dollop of shampoo into my palm, inhaling coconut and some flowery scent. He stepped back, and I shoved my hand into his hair, smearing the shampoo on the wet curls.
“Do we think it was because of a need for maturation or because you’ve been outed to be gay and polyamorous?”
I worked the white shampoo into his hair.
“The world may never know,” he sighed, and I cursed society for its stupid, uptight puritanical asshole shit. “They say it was because I needed just one more season, and then I’d be ready for the next tier. I’m not sure I even care anymore.”
I leaned into his back and dropped a kiss to his wet shoulder, my fingers working up a good lather.
“Do you really mean that or are you just disappointed?”
He stood stoically for a minute as I massaged his scalp.
“I think I’m having an identity crisis, Sander.” He stepped up into the pulsating streams. My hands fell to my side. He rinsed and rinsed and rinsed, his hair holding onto the soap for dear life. When he turned to look at me, his face was tight, his eyes tired, his mouth a paper cut thin line. “I’m going to be twenty-five next month. I’ve been playing baseball forever, but I’m not getting anywhere except deeper into debt. The Egrets pay me fucking pennies, like, seriously Noah and I can barely eat during the summer. I just quit a job that paid me over fifteen bucks an hour to go chase the dream of being Mickey Mantle, and one week into camp, they send me back down. Which means we’re back to living on fucking beans and bread because I make fifteen hundred dollars a month for six months out of the year.”
“Wow, I’m like...that’s all you get paid?” I cupped the back of his neck and rubbed, hard.
“It’s fucking criminal. Maybe I just need to quit, you know? Go find a full-time job in a factory, get into a union, and play on the company softball team every Saturday. I just...who the fuck am I, and what the hell am I going to do with my life now?”
He worked so hard to keep the sob in, but it escaped. I pulled him to me and held on tight. His chest shuddered, his arms linked around me. The water was growing cool by the time he was able to peel himself from me. I touched his face, tracing his magnificent mouth. This man was my inspiration. I aspired to be as strong as he was daily for Noah and for me now as well.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, great. I’m just...no,” he admitted, his shoulders caving in. “Sorry. That was supposed to be ultra-classified information. You’ve got enough to worry about without my whining about not being able to play a game that I like.”
“Hey, dude, really? Don’t try to sell me that shit. I play a game too, and there are times I want to give up. I watch other guys getting called up to Boston. Our goalie, August, just went to the pros, and I bet he never comes back. Why not me? I’m good. I work hard. So, I completely get it.”
His exhalation was huge. “I need to make some big decisions, Sander. Noah and me, we can’t go on like this. Leaving him all the time, struggling to pay the rent, it’s just not cutting it anymore. Will you still lust after me if I work in a box factory?”
“I’ll lust after you if you work at the Bedrock quarry.”
Mat smiled. “Know anyone looking for a hard worker in desperate need of cash and some direction in his life?”
“I’ll ask around. Time to condition those curls.”
I ran my fingers over his jaw and then spun him around so we could hurry up and wash the dried cum off before the water was ice cold.
* * *
Three hours after the shower confessional, I was poking around the dressing room, chatting up the players to see if anyone had any leads on employment. I was getting nowhere fast, so I went to my cubicle and started gearing up.
I was lacing up my skates for morning skate and trying to ignore the din of the dressing room. Each barking male laugh was working on my last nerve. I mean, I had few left anyway, sane nerves that is, so the team plucking at them was inching me toward a less than pleasant attitude.
Dan sat down beside me, fully dressed for the ice.
“I hear one of your partners is looking for work?” I nodded, steeling myself for some flak from my ex. “Tell him to apply to Castenada Cleaning in Elmira. Sal Castenada, August’s boyfriend?” He waited, and I nodded to indicate that I knew the man. I’d seen him a few times. “His father owns it. They’ve just opened an office outside Cayuga. If he drops your name and the team’s name, maybe it will get him a call back or something.”
“Thanks. I’ll let Mat know.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that you were in a poly relationship?” He tapped my sock-covered foot with his recently taped stick. It didn’t hurt. It was just a tiny tap to get my attention. But it kind of severed the weak grasp I had on my emotions.
“Because who I fuck or how many people I fuck is none of your business. It’s not the business of the team, all these other slobbering assholes we call teammates, or the fans. I keep my shit to myself; you of all people should know that. So, get off my fucking back about my boyfriends, or so help me God, I will lay your ass out!”
Dan blinked at me. The entire dressing room blinked at me. Some kid setting out clean towels blinked at me.
“Sorry, I was just trying to help. You know me and Vic—”
“Actually, Dan, I don’t know anything about you and Vic aside from the fact that he’s an enormous horse cock, and that you’re the fucking nosiest puny shit I have ever had the misfortune of putting my dick into.”
In retrospect, I should have known Dan wouldn’t take that puny crack well. He flew up off the bench and lit into me like the angry mutant tattooed on his arm. I had no time to react or get an arm up to block the shot to my nose. I did hear the crack of cartilage as I fell backward into my cubicle, skates in the air and blood flowing over my lips.
“You don’t never call me puny!” Dan bellowed as I tried to make my ears pop. I licked at the blood on my mouth, grimacing at the metallic taste, as Mario and Mike tag-teamed Arou-Kalinski. “I don’t take shit from stupid assholes like you!”
They wrestled Dan out of the dressing room. I laid there for a full minute, wiping at my face with the back of my hand, until Mitch stepped into view and offered me a hand. I took it, and he jerked me to my skate; the untied one had fallen off and rested on the carpeting.
“You should never call Dan puny,” Mitch informed me then ambled off to go do weird goalie shit.
Five minutes later, after a trainer had come in and shoved cotton into both nostrils while tutting and cussing, I finalized lacing up, grabbed my helmet, and stormed out of the dressing room, unable to breathe through my nose. I rounded a corner, my skates thudding on the blue-and-gold runner with the kitty cat tracks, and someone sitting on a folding chair beside the Coke machine stretched out their long legs. I hit the brakes before I went to my face and threw Kalinski the most hateful look I possessed.
“That’s going to be a nice shiner,” Victor said, waving his can of Coke at my swollen nose. He was ready for the ice, all properly staffed up with his skates, whistle, and awesomely cool blue and gold Cougars jacket.
“Would I get benched if I politely told you to fuck off?” I could hear the other players on the ice. If this annoying Polish putz got me wind sprints for being late I’d...well, I’d do nothing because he was my special teams coach. Maybe Mat was right. Maybe we both needed to go work in a box factory.
“Not a chance. See, you and me? We have a special kind of friendship. One that transcends the customary coach/player relationship. After all, you have had your tongue in my husband’s ass, so that sort of makes us besties by anal association.”
“And they say my mouth is toxic.” It was really all I could think of to say. “Do you have anything important to relay to me?”
His face drew into a pucker, as if he’d swallowed a bug. “It’s been brought to my attention that calling you by a woman’s name might be a dick move, is sexist and belittling to women, and is frowned upon as a way to handle my resentment of you being someone who knew my husband in a Biblical sense.”
“I told him not to say anything to you.” Christ, Dan Arou-Kalinski was a pain in my ass. And face.
“Daniel rarely does what we asshole types tell him. He feels he needs to help guide us to being good and decent men, like he is. So, since we’re trying to break ugly habits that might leak into my conversations with my son, I’ll quit calling you Sandy. I do reserve the right to tease you unmercifully about the fact that your name sounds like a Makita product.”
Wow. I stared at Kalinski openly. You could have knocked me over with a strong breath. Was there really some humanity and warmth inside The Venomous Pole? He gave me a narrow-eyed glance.
“Stunned you into quiet. I like it. Silence works for you.”
“And the fuzzy admiration type feelings are dead,” I sighed.
“Good. You and me aren’t destined to be fuzzy. My family and my kid are the only ones who get my fuzzies. Don’t get the idea that I’m soft or anything.”
“Not one single idea in my head about your softness. Is there anything else, Coach?”
“Nope, I just wanted to see the damage my old man caused up close and personal like.” He drew his legs out of the way. “You’re free to hit the ice now, Impact Wrench.”
“Sander. My name is Sander.” For fuck sake.
“I knew it was some kind of tool,” he smirked and fell into step beside me. I really wanted to use my stick on his head in a very inappropriate manner but that might get me on the shit list. Or further up the shit list. I suspected everyone but Dan and Jack were on this man’s shit list.
“Asshole,” I muttered to myself.
“You are so easy,” Victor sniggered as we hit the ice.
He went one way, I went the opposite way and blended in with the players. Whistles blew, and we were split into smaller teams. Then Dan Arou-Kalinski rode my ass to the boards for a solid thirty minutes. I think him and his fucking evil spouse collaborated in the dark last night to ensure we had defensive coverage drills today. There wasn’t a second from the time I would get the puck on my stick to when Dan would check me into the boards, hard. So hard that the cotton was knocked out of my nostrils when I hit the ice halfway through the drills.
When the skate concluded, I was sore all over and probably covered with contusions.
“Hey,” Dan called as I limped off the ice. He caught up with me, which was easy since I was moving like an octogenarian. The man might be small for hockey, but what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer fucking grit and determination. “You get my message?”
I looked down at him. “I think the combination of your fist in my face and the forechecking hell you just exhibited on me got your message delivered.”
“Okay good, because I don’t want to have to deliver another one.” He stepped in front of me, long dark hair sodden. The big A on his left shoulder was speckled with blood. Mine, I had to assume. “Back to what I was trying to say before you went all asshole on me was that if you’d have come to me and Vic, told us you were in a relationship with two men, we’d have helped you out. I know you think Victor’s a butt plug, and you got good reason to think that, but when it comes to the important stuff like representation and equality, he and I are here for our teammates.”
Didn’t I feel stupid? And small? Like four feet shorter than Dan small. I really wanted to be pissed at Dan, but the anger sort of abated as I came to realize that he’d hit me because I’d belittled him, kind of how Victor had done to me. It was hard to stay angry when you realized you were in the wrong. Shit. That meant I was sharing a similar emotion with Kalinski. That felt wrong on many levels.
“Okay. Thanks.” I blew out a long exhalation. “Sorry about the height crack. I know that hits you in a tender place, which is why I used it. You really do have a thing for men who are massive bags of dicks, don’t you?”
“Must be a flaw in my personality. As for your new relationship, I might not get it, but I respect that you live it. Hell, you always wanted something more than what I or any other single man could give you. I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”
Again, a hand from a teammate was offered, and again, I took it. This was getting to be a habit. It was kind of nice. Well, aside from the bloody nose and bruised spleen, it was nice.
* * *
For the next three weeks, the game and my boyfriends kind of took over my life. That wasn’t a bad thing, because as we neared the end of March and Mat’s birthday, the insanity that was pushing to the playoffs and trying to juggle a shiny new relationship was all that was keeping me from the lurking panic attack that rode my back like a bad nicotine habit. My vow to Noah about getting help and/or meds had not been forgotten, it had just been knocked down a bit on the importance scale as I had other shit to deal with...Kimmy and I talked daily now, exchanging nervously phrased queries if the other had heard anything from the parole board. Neither had, and so three weeks or so of waiting and wondering also sat high and heavily on my shoulders.
Add in the fact that Mat was still trying to decide his future while Noah—our deeply loved and spoiled artist—was stressing over Mat’s inability to decide. Also, Noah had finals coming soon on top of his commitment to his books and readers. People were clamoring for ‘Love Diamond,’ which was great. But he was so wound-up that he couldn’t focus on his work so all he did was flip-flop from sad to weepy, ending up in bed in his yellow robe/duck slipper ensemble sketching heartbreaking scenarios for Komi and Akemi. His grades were slipping, adding additional stress.
Yep. Life was full of good times. We’d just come back from a road trip that had taken me down to Alabama to face my old team. It was a rush to beat them well and soundly. The Cougars now had fourteen games left until the season ended, and we were solidly in possession of our division.
We had a stretch of two whole days off to recuperate from the road trip. Mat’s mother had flown in early this morning to spend a few days with her son and celebrate his birthday.
I now could make the drive from Cayuga to Varick blindfolded, I’d done it so often. I’d shaved, showered, and even made sure my hair was trimmed and my clothes dry-cleaned for the official introduction to Mrs. Castillo. None of us knew how she would take the news, or even if we should tell her about our poly relationship. Mat had decided to play it by ear, which was how he was living his life right now. He kind of worried me to be honest. The man needed to make the call. Either he was sticking with baseball or he wasn’t. The longer things went on with him happily in limbo, the more I suspected his early return from Arizona was more than him getting that tap on the shoulder from the coaching staff.
Parking next to Mat’s car, I turned the engine off, closed my eyes, and begged the cosmos for just one night where the crushing stress might lessen just a bit. My sleep patterns were fucked, and I was in a constant hot honey and fire ants state. It really was like walking a tightrope, knowing that one good gust of stress would blow me off into the abyss of one huge fucking anxiety attack. An attack of biblical proportions.
Maybe you need to get your ass to a shrink for some meds, Sandy.
Great. Now my inner voice was belittling me in Victor Kalinski’s voice. Sad thing was that sarcastic voice was right. I did need to go. And I would. As soon as the regular season ended. See, if I went now, and this team doctor did a good investigation of my head, he’d bench me and that was not acceptable. I had to play. I couldn’t just sit around like Mat, pretending the rent wasn’t overdue and playing Fields of Death in day long binges. I had family that depended on that money from me.
So, yeah. One night without any major shit would be nice. Someone pounded on my window, startling me badly. I threw a dark look at Mat’s neighbor, he of the comb-over and paunch.
“Something I can do for you, sir?” I asked as I exited my RAV.
“You can find some other place to park,” he snapped up at me, pulling his robe tighter around his belly. “Each apartment gets two slots. Two.” He held up a pair of short, stubby fingers.
“Well, we need three.” I walked around him. He followed as I suspected he would. I glanced heavenward. “Thanks for not dumping shit on me,” I muttered to the clear sky.
“Yeah, I know all about you three homosexuals and what you’re doing in there.”
I stalled, turned, and locked gazes with the troll. “Yeah, do you? What are you doing? Pressing your ear to the wall and jerking off to all the hot gay sex sounds?”
He sputtered noiselessly for a few seconds then flashed his wedding band at me.
“I’m not gay. I have a wife. One wife. A woman. Like God intended. Two people. That’s what’s normal. Which is why there are two slots for each family. Two. Not three, you adulterous queer.”
“For fuck sake, none of us are married, so how can we be adulterous?”
He started to say something. The dude had no idea how close he came to needing dental surgery. If not for Mat opening the door and calling my name, Next Door Neighbor would have been picking his chiclets up off the walk.
“I mean it! You better move that car, or I’m calling the building manager!”
I flipped the ugly homophobe off. Mat jerked me inside and shut the door with force.
“Sander, your hockey player is showing,” he teased softly, grabbing a fast kiss then stepping back quickly.
“Dude called us adulterous queers.”
“He’s a dick. He’s always tossing snide comments at Noah and me. He will call the manager though, so maybe you might want to park in the street when we come back from dinner?”
I snuck a peek around the wall. Noah was nowhere to be seen, but I did hear the shower running, so that must be where he was. Mrs. Castillo was not in the living room. I leaned back and gave Mat a solemn look as I shucked off my coat and draped it over my left arm.
“So, I take it your mom hasn’t been told about the new wrinkle in your relationship with Noah?”
He sighed then ran a hand down my arm, pressing at the sharp seam in the sleeve of my dress shirt.
“You’re more than a wrinkle, Sander.” His fingers danced over my wrist and knuckles, but he never clasped my hand as he normally would. “No, we haven’t told her. Noah’s so stressed over getting ‘Love Diamond’ completed and using it to push up his final grade in Advanced Techniques of Sequential Art that he’s ready to crumble into dust.”
I glanced at the closed bathroom door then at Mat. “Anything I can do to help?”
He tapped my hand with his fingers, a bone-tired smile trying to lift the corners of his mouth but failing spectacularly.
“Not really. Just lots of extra love and support.”
“Which will be hard since I can’t really touch him with your mother here.” Mat drew back at the venomous words I’d hurled at him. “Sorry. Shit. I am sorry. It’s been...”
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s been bad for all of us. Just give me tonight, okay? Let me try to lead the conversation into some sort of discussion about it. I promise I will tell her soon. Maybe after my good news.”
I ached to hold him or at least touch him as a lover would. But nope, that wasn’t happening, and my soul yearned for what I had grown so accustomed to.
“Good news?” I said at the same time Mrs. Castillo appeared. She was short but thin, eyes as big and beautifully brown as Mat’s, chin, and cheekbones the same as well. Her hair was black as coal while Mat’s was more a rich dark-roasted coffee bean color.
“Ah, this must be Sander.” Mrs. Castillo and I shook hands. Mat nodded and allowed her to take me into the living room and feed me some small squares that tasted strongly of cinnamon, vanilla, and coconut. “Mateo tells me that you three have become the best of friends over the past few months. And that you play hockey. Have some more. I always make Dulce de Coco for Mateo when I visit.”
“Thank you, ma’am, it’s delicious.” That was no lie. I ended up eating four squares of the rich dessert and talking hockey with Mrs. Castillo while Mat went off to hustle Noah along. I liked Mat’s mother. She seemed open and accepting of her son, and as the evening wore on, I could see that she genuinely cared for Noah, although not wanting to coddle and hug Noah was impossible. The restaurant Noah had chosen was a family-style sort, because that was pretty much all there was in Varick, New York. The food was good, classic American fare. I had meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Mat and his mother had fried chicken, and Noah had ordered a Chef Salad and then spent most of the meal picking out bits of stuff he didn’t like.
“Why shredded carrots?” Noah complained as he lifted a thin strip of carrot out of his huge bowl of greens with his fork then dropped it into the pile of carrot strips on his napkin.
“You could just eat them,” Mat pointed out, sitting back and sipping coffee as we waited for dessert to come. Noah, with his need to pick carrots, was still working on his meal when the cake, a round one with pink flowers, candles, and icing, was placed in the middle of the table. Mat glanced at the waiter.
“Sorry, we thought the name was Maria. You’re not a Maria, are you?” the server said, his face as pink as the sugary flowers on Mat’s cake.
“Nope, I’m a Mateo, but it’s all good,” Mat smiled warmly at the flustered young man. “I can totally eat pink frosting.”
“I hate carrots,” Noah grumbled and continued carrot hunting.
“My sister used to tell me that carrots give you good eyesight because you never see rabbits wearing glasses,” I interjected then lifted my hot coffee and took a wary sip.
“What do your parents do for a living, Sander?” Mrs. Castillo asked, stirring some Splenda into her black coffee.
A deadly veil of silence dropped over the birthday table. Mat and Noah both stopped doing what they’d been doing. They knew all about my past, the horrors with Wade, and of course the prison time. How could they not? They’d witnessed me freaking out that night, flailing and screaming about Wade. They knew it all. Plus, Noah had been at the parole hearing with me. He’d seen my own personal terror up close and personal. They were the only ones who did aside from Dan. Dan had gone through some deep and painful shit with me when we were in college.
“Don’t know who my father is, and my mother died of an overdose when I was small.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Mrs. Castillo gasped. “I’m so sorry, Sander. Did you and your sister have family to take you in?”
“Yes.” I left it at that because now was not the time. She nodded, as if sensing I was closing this discussion down.
“Hey, so, I guess now is as good a time as any to pass along the good news I got earlier,” Mat pushed into the awkward moment. We all looked at him, even Noah, who was chasing yet another sliver of carrot through an ocean of ranch dressing and romaine. “I found a job with a cleaning company in Auburn. Full time, benefits, and a week paid vacation after I’m there a year.”
No one said a word. I was thrilled that he’d gotten the job with Castenada Cleaning. Auburn was like twenty minutes from Cayuga. The thrill soon faded as guilt took its place. The man had given up his game to work cleaning offices, yet I was happy because it would be less travel time for me. That was shitty of me.
Eventually, Mat’s mother spoke up. “When you say full time you mean full time in the fall, after the season ends.”
“No, I mean full time all the time. I’m done playing baseball.”
Mrs. Castillo’s jaw hit her chest. Noah and I exchanged looks. Neither of us were truly shocked. Mat had made his disillusionment with his current life track known to us numerous times over the past few weeks. We knew he’d been scouring the papers looking for a job, had applied online all over the place, and had even taken the step of shoving his baseball mitt into the closet. That was the moment I knew he was not going back to his game. That would be like me cramming my skates into the back of the closet. He’d never said anything aloud though, which was so Mat. Always burying his worries because he thought our problems took precedence.
Mat and his mother had this long and spirited talk, all in Spanish, which lasted through dessert and all the way back to their apartment. Where, of course, the building manager was waiting for us with an eviction notice citing non-payment of rent and abuse of allocated parking slots. Mrs. Castillo came a little unglued. Mat stepped up, took the notice, and shoved it the pocket of his coat.
“We’ll be out by the end of April,” Mat replied emotionlessly.
The manager, a portly guy with a ring of white hair sniffed and stalked off, mumbling about immigrants. I made a move toward the racist asshole, but Noah grabbed my arm, shaking his head while worrying his bottom lip.
Mat and his mother stood staring at each other. Noah slipped his arm through mine. I could feel him trembling. Mother and son started talking at the same time, right over each other. I understood none of the conversation, my one year of Spanish in high school making me unable to follow the rapid words being flung at each other.
“Mom, it’s my life!” Mat shouted in English. Noah wiggled closer to my side. “I know I’m fucking it up. I know that, but it’s my life to fuck up.”
You could hear your own heartbeat; it grew that quiet.
“Maybe I should go home,” I said after the longest moment ever elapsed.
“Why are you going home? Don’t you sleep here with Mat and Noah?” Mrs. Castillo asked, her arms folded over her red coat. We all answered at once, feeble lies and explanations and denials jumbling up together. She merely raised a slim eyebrow and lifted her hand to silence us. “Please, do you boys think I live in a cave? We do have internet in Vero Beach. I must have gotten fifty links to that picture of you three kissing at the airport.”
We all shuffled around, out there in the cold, feeling foolish.
“Mom, we just...”
“Mateo, baby boy, how many times do I have to say I support you, no matter what?” She blew out a breath. “I know this is your life. I just always want you to be happy, you know that. If you’re not happy playing baseball anymore, then I accept that. If you’re happy with two boyfriends, I accept that too. All I ever wanted was you to be happy.”
“I know, Mama. I’m sorry for cursing at you. It’s been...leaving baseball has been so hard. I feel like a quitter.” He looked from his mother to Noah and me. “Sometimes our dreams change, right?”
“Yes, they do, baby boy. I see that Noah and Sander are your new dream.”
He swept her up into a huge hug that somehow grew into a four-way embrace. Right there, in the parking lot, with Nosy Asshole Neighbor watching and wondering what kind of wild kink would be taking place tonight. Stupid ass would never be able to understand acceptance and love as was being shown right here and right now.
Being held by that tiny woman even for a short minute made the crushing weight on my back feel just a small bit lighter. The lovefest broke up. Mat and Noah and Mrs. Castillo leading the way into the brick building. I pulled in a deep breath, peeked at the stars, and gave the fates a small wink to say, “Thanks for that little bit of good” before I was summoned inside to help finish off the Dulce de Coco.