While he got the last of the boxes that were coming inside, Jacob and I set up his bed. Even though the room already had one, he asked if he could keep his. We’re taking the one that was in here, along with the furniture from his house, to a storage unit in the morning.
“What time is Dylan supposed to get home?” I ask him as he steps into the bedroom, setting the box on his dresser.
“Not sure. She has that dinner meeting with Coach Woosley, Dean Winchester, and Coach Cooper, the head of the Athletic Department, to go over how the dinner for the benefactors went. It could be a few hours since they went to a pretty swanky restaurant.”
I stand up, the frame all together, and step back, taking in our handiwork. One thing I have to admit is Matthew has good taste in beds. The frame is heavy as hell, oak or some other type of wood, and was a bitch to put together. But all that remains now is to put the box spring and mattress on it.
“We should have a bro night, since we did all this bonding today. Maybe even our Assistant Coach will get us some beer so we don’t have to use my fake ID. We can order pizza and make a fire in the pit.” I turn to Jacob, waiting for him to second me on the idea.
We look at Matthew in unison. He’s gazing back at us as he shakes his head, lowering to the floor as he covers his mouth with his hand. I guess I need to pray the cashiers here don’t question my ID. While it’s a good fake, it’s not without flaws. Back home I was known—respected for my skill on the field; here I’m a nobody. It’s when his shoulders begin to bounce up and down I realize he’s laughing.
The fucking shit.
“There’s already beer in the fridge. When I put away the food I brought from my place, I also put some beer and a bottle of Jack Daniels in there. We can order pizza and make it a party.”
“What the hell are we waiting for? Let’s get the mattress on the bed. Jacob, order us some pizzas and wings, just make sure one of them is a meat lovers. That way when Dylan gets home, if she’s hungry, she can have some. You know how she likes her meat.” I put my hands behind my head and thrust my hips in a figure eight. He shakes his head and pulls his phone out as steps out of the room, leaving Matthew and me alone.
“How’s it going with the others on the team? Dylan mentioned some of them aren’t too keen on the idea of her playing and have been making some comments about me and her. That sleeping with me got her the spot.”
“Yeah, there’s some dicks, and that’s me being nice.” I sit on the edge of the bed, placing my hands on my thighs as I tilt my head to look up at him. “But she’s tough. We dealt with it in high school, and we’ll do the same now. Her skills alone are enough to show she deserves to play with us. We talked about it. And I’m sorry, man, I know you should have been there, but with the way she looked? We needed to.”
I’m a little afraid he’s going to be pissed about that. Especially after he was the one who brought up family discussions and all that shit. He cuts the distance between us and sits beside me. Matthew runs his fingers through his shaggy hair; it’s gotten longer since I first met him. My squirrel brain goes off the rails for a second and wonders if he’s letting it grow or if he’s just been too damn busy to cut it.
“We discussed it when I brought her home. She was more concerned about how the team would treat me rather than her own feelings. I had a feeling the two of you also saw the difference in her at practice, and I was sure you’d be talking with her, too. I know there will be times we can’t all be there and discussions will need to be had. Much the same as I know sometimes things are between one or two of us and don't need the whole group.”
We sit there in silence for a minute, taking in what was said. Our relationship isn't what’s considered normal, but it’s right. It’s perfect for us.
“Let’s go build that fire. You can make the bed later.” I put my hand on his shoulder and stand.
“Just make sure to keep your eye on her. If the way they’re treating her gets worse, promise me you’ll tell me. I don’t want her to think she has to bear the weight of this alone.”
“I promise.” And I mean it. She’s our girl and we’re going to make sure she’s happy as a trio. Each of us having her back. Dylan suffered enough heartbreak from her parents on her own,she’ll never have to face any obstacle alone again. “Enough sappy moments. Let’s go downstairs.”
He grins, then lets out a laugh as he stands and we make our way down the hallway to the stairs. Tonight, for the first time since this all started that day Dylan stepped onto the field, we’re finally all under the same roof, together, as a family. Life doesn’t get more perfect than this.
“I think we’re going to need more beer. There’s only a few six packs in here.” Jacob turns as we make our way into the kitchen.
“Nah, told you I had some Jack Daniels. How much can the two of you drink?”
We both laugh at Matthew’s question. We don’t drink all the time, but we can put away some when we do.
Matthew walks over to the cabinet above the refrigerator and reaches into it, pulling out the liquor bottle. “Now the question is, are we drinking it straight or mixing it with some Coke?”
Jacob and I lock eyes and wear a shit-ass grin as we say in unison, “Straight.”
“My kind of men.” He sets the bottle on the counter, then gets three glasses out. “When’s the food getting here?”
“About twenty minutes. I ordered from the place right up the road. Let’s go outside and light the pit while we wait. That Jack is calling my name.” Jacob pushes off the counter he is leaning against and heads to the back door, with the two of us following; Matthew with the liquor and me with the beer.
He’s already at the fire pit lighting it up and I take a moment to truly take in the yard. I’m already plotting out the perfect spot to add a hot tub, thankful my parents had a privacy fence installed around the back of the house.
“What’s it like being a coach? Does it match the thrill you felt as a player?” Jacob asks as he steps back from the fire and takes a seat in the chair.
Matthew sets the glasses on the table beside him, then pours us each a drink, handing them to us.
“It’s good, but different. Lacrosse was all I thought about. I lived and breathed it through junior and senior year in high school and into college. All I thought about was playing professionally and I wanted to fight to have it petitioned back as an Olympic sport.” He lifts his glass, drinking the brown liquid, then refills the glass.
“It should be in the Olympics.” Jacob tilts his glass toward Matthew and swallows the liquid in it. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, I do the same.
