So did I.
The bedroom door flew open hard enough to bang off the wall, and one hundred and sixty pounds of bull mastiff launched himself into the room with the grace of a collapsing shed.
“Tiny, no,” I said, already knowing it was useless.
Tiny hit the bed like a natural disaster with paws. The mattress bucked. Jace shouted as the dog landed half on his back, half on my ribs, then shoved his enormous head between us with a delighted snort.
“Jesus Christ,” Jace wheezed, pinned facedown against my chest. “We need to install a moat.”
Tiny licked the side of his face.
Jace sputtered. “No. Absolutely not. I am loved enough.”
Tiny disagreed and put one paw squarely on Jace’s ass.
I laughed so hard I lost my grip on both of them.
“Help me,” Jace said, voice muffled because Tiny had decided his neck required cleaning. “You’re the authority figure.”
“He outranks me in this house.”
“He does not.”
Tiny sneezed directly into his hair.
Jace went silent.
Then, very calmly, he said, “Your son is disgusting.”
“Our son.”
“Do not put legal responsibility for this creature on me while he’s committing a hate crime.”
Tiny flopped sideways, taking Jace with him. Jace rolled, got trapped between the dog and me, and gave up with a dramatic groan. His hand found mine under Tiny’s chest. He linked our fingers and squeezed.
That was how we lay for a minute, laughing, breathless, crushed beneath the animal who had once been my only company in this house and now had more opinions than either of us.
A year ago, this bed had been mine alone most nights.
Now Jace’s phone charger lived on my side table because he liked that outlet better. His sneakers crowded the closet even though we had built extra shelves. Protein powder appeared in places no reasonable adult would store protein powder. There were sticky notes near the coffee maker, on the garage door, inside one kitchen cabinet because he kept forgetting where the bowls went despite insisting the system was wrong.
He had moved in eight months ago after three separate conversations, two lists, one argument about whether he needed a backup apartment “in case I become unbearable,” and a final quiet night when he admitted he already felt like he lived here and was scared to name it.
I had not fixed that fear for him.
I had made room for it.
Then I made room for his clothes.
The first few months after disclosure had been worse than either of us admitted at the time. The review had dragged on for six weeks. Every line combination I set was documented. Every disciplinary note involving Jace went through Whitaker and Kepler. HR meetings became a recurring part of my calendar. For a while, the building felt like it had too many eyes and not enough air.
The team found out in pieces, then all at once.
Some were awkward. A few were angry. Most were confused and trying not to say the wrong thing. Benny made one terrible joke, saw Roman’s face, and immediately apologized to three different people. Roman stayed close to Jace without making it obvious, which meant everyone noticed. Tessa controlled the public messaging with such ruthless competence that half the league should have sent her flowers.
There were headlines. Of course there were.
Coach and star player.
