Page 184 of The Lineman

Mateo groaned, rubbing his face. “I hate you both.”

Elliot chuckled, looking entirely too smug. “Hate is just gay love in disguise.”

Mateo flipped him off.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Man, I love this.”

Mateo sighed, leaning back. “Yeah.”

And then—

Then something shifted.

Mateo’s fingers tapped against the table, his expression growing more thoughtful, his shoulders tightening just a little.

I watched it happen in real time.

The walls going up. The quiet hesitation.

And I knew where his mind had gone.

I glanced at Elliot.

He saw it, too.

So I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “All right, man. Spill.”

Mateo blinked. “What?”

Elliot arched a brow. “Gabe.”

Mateo stiffened further.

I pressed on. “Come on. We know it’s in your head.”

Mateo hesitated.

Then he sighed, rubbing his jaw.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s in my head.”

I watched him carefully.

The way hewasn’tlooking at us. The way his fingers tightened around his beer bottle.

This was hard for him.

And for the first time since I’d met him—since we’d become the closest of friends—I saw it, the part of Mateo that wasn’t always confident, the part that doubted.

The part that carried more than he let on.

I softened my voice. “Talk to us, man.”

Mateo sighed, sitting up and rubbing his face. “I don’t even know where to start.”

I tilted my head. “When did you first realize it was him?”

“The second he walked in.” Mateo exhaled sharply. “I mean, I’ve known that kid since he was in middle school. I coached him through every season, and never—not once—did I think he might be gay.”

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