Page 291 of Coach
“Hang on,” I said, holding up a palm. “He can’t show up in his work shirt. They’ll give him shit for not being dressed for the holiday, then give us shit for showing off his arms. Matty will be relentless.”
“And Sisi would be unchained,” Mateo agreed. “Come in. Let us find you a shirt. There’s got to be something that’ll fit and look like Santa threw up on it. All Shane owns is flannel.”
Jeremiah grunted. “I did notice that.”
“Hey!” I protested.
Jeremiah held up both palms. “Don’t shoot. You look good in old-people-lost-in-the-woods clothes. It suits you.”
“Oh, he’s going to fit in just fine,” Mateo said through a laugh.
Once Jeremiah was fitted in a Mateo-approvedflannel that only hugged his arms and chest a bit less than his work shirt, we loaded up and headed out.
Nerves or not, one thing was clear:
This was what the holidays were supposed to feel like.
Chapter 44
Mateo
Mrs. H’s house was already glowing by the time we pulled up. Every window flickered with light from candles dancing on the inside sill, a massive wreath crowned the door, and a cheerful (and slightly crooked) inflatable Santa bounced on the porch like it was halfway through a bender.
“Brace yourselves, boys,” I said, grinning as I glanced at Shane and Jeremiah. “This is not a house for the faint of heart.”
Jeremiah chuckled from the back seat. “Are you sure I should be here? I can Uber—”
“Too late,” Shane said, calm as ever. “You’re family now, which means you’re fucked—and not in the tingly way, either.”
I caught the twitch of a smile on Jeremiah’s face before we piled out and headed up the walk, arms full of dishes and bottles.
The moment we crossed the threshold, the smellhit us—roast meat, some kind of baked thing that may or may not have involved root vegetables, and an unmistakable hint of whatever Scottish concoction Mrs. H was trying to kill us with.
From the den came raucous laughter.
“Sounds like they’ve started without us,” I muttered.
We barely made it past the coatrack before Sisi’s voice rang out.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in!”
“I don’t do pussies,” Shane said, deadpanned as ever.
Sisi’s entire face froze, then everyone in earshot erupted, some doubling over.
Matty was sprawled on the couch like a cat in a sunbeam, one leg tucked under him, the other kicked out and bouncing to some inner rhythm.
Andof course, he was dressed to be seen.
A glittering gold cardigan hung off his shoulders, draped over a skin-tight black mesh shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Red velvet pants hugged his hips like a second skin, ending in a pair of pointed patent leather boots that looked ready for the runway—or a witch’s coven meeting. I wasn’t sure which. Around his neck hung a thick chain with a charm shaped like a tiny stiletto heel, and his nails were painted alternating black and red. Perhapsmost arresting, his lashes looked like they could fan a small forest fire.
Matty caught me looking and winked. “You like? I was going forgay Christmas fairy, but if you think it’s too subtle, I can add antlers.”
Sisi cackled from beside him.
And yeah, I loved these people, chaos and all.
The second Sisi’s eyes landed on Jeremiah, she gasped. Matty echoed with a gasp of his own.
