Chapter 9 – Mateo
Chapter Nine
MATEO
The slam of my boots against the ground echoes through the bay as I finish another sled push and stand up straight, breath sharp in my throat. My shirt’s already clinging to my back, and I haven’t even hit the rope yet.
I grab the chalk and start working it between my palms, trying not to let my brain go where it keeps going. Analyse.
The way she looked the other day at breakfast—head thrown back, hair falling over her face, laughing so hard she snorted. Her and Maya’s relationship tugs at my heart. Watching the two of them together is really something special.
She gives Maya her complete, undivided attention, love, and devotion. Analyse is a damn good mother, and I find it so fucking sexy.
I shouldn’t be thinking that. I know better.
She’s so much more than her beauty. Although, shit, she is drop dead gorgeous.
It’s the way she parents with her whole heart.
The way she listens to Maya like nothing else exists in that moment.
How she always knows when to be soft, when to be firm, when to just be there.
I feel a pang of pain in my chest. It catches me off guard. The ache I feel in my chest when I was the two of them together. A reminder of everything I once had. Everything I once lost.
I shake my head free of those thoughts, not allowing myself to go to a place that I’ve kept locked away for so long. A dark place that I can’t show to anyone.
“Yo, lover boy,” Andres calls out, cutting into the quiet. He’s standing by the engine, dripping with sweat. “You looking a little slow over there. You praying that Cap’s gonna come end you of your misery?”
I shoot him a look, grabbing my bottle and dumping water over my head. “Yeah, right, asshole. You know I’ll smoke you in a sled push any day of the week.”
Andres grins, cocky as hell. “Talk is cheap, Rodriguez. Let’s see it.”
Seb whistles low from behind me. “Careful, man. You don’t wanna embarrass yourself in front of the guy Maya says could lift a car with one arm.”
Andres barks out a laugh. I shake my head, biting back a smile. I should’ve known better than to tell those jerks what she said.
“What can I say,” I toss back with a half-smirk, “kid knows what she’s talking about.” I start walking toward the sled, glancing over my shoulder. “Too bad her uncles are trash.”
Andres lets out a dramatic gasp. “The disrespect! Alright, lover boy—put your legs where your mouth is.”
I roll my shoulders back, smirking. “That’s a weird way to ask me to beat your ass, but okay. You want this, too, Seb?”
Seb chuckles behind me. “I’m just here for the show.”
“Okay, grandpa, enjoy the entertainment.” I plant my feet at the edge of the sled and glance over at Andres. “You want a head start? Preserve your ego?”
He flips me off and drops into position on the sled next to mine. “Just don’t cry when I leave you in the dust.”
Captain Nathan walks in just as I tighten my grip on the bars. His eyes flick between us, unimpressed. “Am I gonna regret letting this happen?”
“Probably,” Seb mutters.
For the next hour and a half, we push our sleds across the bay. There’s no quit in either of us. Not with our dignity on the line.
We should’ve tapped out ten rounds ago, but neither one of us is willing to be the first to fold. Every time I stop to catch my breath, I see Andres resetting the weight, and I get my ass right back in line.
By the time Cap comes back, we’re both half-dead, chests heaving, shirts drenched, legs shot.
“I hate you so much,” Andres wheezes, leaning over the sled.
I drop to the floor beside him, gulping air. “Hate you more.”
“Impossible. No one has ever felt the hatred that I feel for you right now. You smell like actual regret.”
Seb strolls by, taking a sip from his bottle of Gatorade. “You idiots done, or should I call for backup?”
I flip him off without looking up. Andres mutters something that sounds like “funeral arrangements.”
Cap pauses next to us, eyeing the two of us collapsed on the ground. “Glad to see all my training methods are in use.”
“Yup,” I manage to breathe out. “Peak conditioning.”
He snorts and walks away.
Tonight is our weekly family dinner at the firehouse, and Analyse and my first time attending together as a couple. The first time in front of Cap.
Cap—Nathan—isn’t the kind of guy to pry, but he can call bullshit from a mile away. Always has. I hope Analyse and I can pull this off, because if Cap suspects something is off, this whole thing will unravel.
Analyse and Maya step through the bay doors, a tray of pastelón in Analyse’s hands. Her hair pinned up, curls fighting for freedom, and she’s wearing that soft hoodie I accidentally left at her place last week. I haven’t asked for it back. It looks better on her.
Seb and Mariana are in the kitchen. Seb is prepping the chicken for the oven while Mariana starts on a pot of rice. Andres has music blasting from a Bluetooth speaker. He’s chopping tomatoes, cucumbers, and romaine for a salad. And Anna is layering her postre de milo.
Maya beelines toward the kitchen, shouting, “Titi Mariana! Mami made pastelón and I got to mash the plátanos!”
Mariana beams at Maya, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, huele riquísimo!”
Maya grins, chest puffed out. “Right? I helped Mami with everything! I even got to taste the meat. But only a little bit. Mami said we had to save it for dinner.”
“She’s right,” Andres chimes in. “We’re going to be desperate for her pastelón once we get a load of Seb’s dry chicken.”
“I’ll have you know that this is going to be the world’s juiciest chicken. Right, mi tesoro?” he says, glancing over at Mariana.
“Uhhh…of course, Seba. It’ll be the best chicken ever,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and then shoots the rest of us a look.
Andres immediately snorts. I press my lips together to keep from laughing, and Analyse is hiding her face behind a dishtowel.
“Wow,” Seb says, holding a hand to his heart. “The betrayal in this kitchen is unreal.”
The food’s finally ready, and we all crowd around the long table. Everyone’s loud. Talking over each other. Plates being passed in every direction.
I pile food onto my plate, trying to stop myself from devouring the entire tray of the pastelón, when Analyse spots me.
“Your favorite,” she says softly.
She settles in next to me, thigh brushing mine, her knee bumping against mine under the table. I feel every single point of contact like it’s fire. Maya’s across from us, scarfing down the food as if she hasn’t had a single meal in days.
“Slow down,” Seb says, passing her a napkin. “You’re gonna choke.”
“I’m going to have seconds,” she replies between bites. “Maybe thirds.”
Andres looks over at Analyse. “You starving our girl, or what?” he asks with a grin.
Analyse scoffs. “Yeah, right. The kid can eat. She’s got a great appetite.”
Cap chuckles from the far end of the table. “Gotta respect that she knows good food.”
Mariana raises her fork in agreement. “And an appetite that would have made my mom proud.”
Seb wraps his arms around Mariana’s shoulders, and Anna gently squeezes her hand. Mariana’s mom, Lucia, died a few months ago, and it was really hard on Mariana for a while there. It still is.
Lucia was a loss for the whole town. She was a pillar of the community.
Someone who remembered birthdays, showed up with a hearty meal when you were having a bad day, and always, always, always made you feel seen and heard whenever she was near.
Everyone who knew her loved her. Hell, the moment I stepped a foot into this town, she was one of the first faces I saw.
I blew into town with a heavy heart, battling demons no one here knew about, but she saw me. I packed up my life in California hoping a change of scenery would somehow make everything hurt less. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a place to stay. Just pain in my heart, and no idea what came next.
She took one look at me, and said, “You look like someone who could use a good meal.”
I was completely caught off guard by the moment, but somehow, I found myself following this woman to her house for a home-cooked meal.
And damn…that meal was incredible. She asked me a few questions, and by the end of that meal, she’d made a few calls and lined up a place for me to stay, and handed me Seb’s number and told me I should think about joining the firehouse.
Said I had the look of someone who was built for helping others.
She barely knew me, and yet, she changed my life in a way that she would never understand.
And now, sitting here at this table—laughing, eating, watching the family I have now—I realize how many of us she saved just by being who she was.
I’m quiet for a moment too long, caught in it—everything she gave me, everything she left behind.
Then I feel her. Analyse slides her hand into mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.
She leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.
Casual. Easy. Just a girlfriend being sweet to her boyfriend in a room full of people who already believe it.
I give her a grateful smile and squeeze her hand back.
After we’ve all eaten too much food, Cap and I clear the table while Andres and Seb argue over who’s actually washing the dishes and who’s just “supervising.”
Seb’s got a sponge on his hand but hasn’t touched a plate in five minutes, and Andres is talking so much trash I’m not sure anything’s actually clean. The girls are packing up the leftovers, leaving Cap and me to collect the used plates, empty trays, and crumpled napkins.
“A relationship looks good on you,” Cay says.
I pause, a plate in my hand.
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps moving. “You’ve always carried things quiet, but this is the first time I’ve seen you…light.”
“She’s easy to be around,” I manage.
He nods. “I’ve known Analyse for a long time. She’s a good woman that’s dealt with a lot. I’m glad you both found something in one another.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Because I know he means every word.
And I can’t help the guilt that gnaws at me from this lie we’ve built.
Cap’s looking at me like I deserve her. Like I’ve finally found something good, and solid, and lasting.
But he doesn’t know that this is all a lie that started as a favor.
And I hope this won’t blow up in my face one he finds out.
Before I can say anything, she walks in with a stack of plates and that teasing smile of hers. “Talking about me?” she asks, smiling sweetly.
“Always,” I shoot back.
“Hopefully all good things.”
“I could never say a bad thing about you, chula,” I say, giving her a wink.
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to smile.
Cap watches us for a beat then steps closer, claps a hand on my shoulders, and says, “Good man,” before heading out of the room.
The ride home is quiet. Maya’s passed out in the back seat, head tilted at an impossible angle, clutching a Tupperware of Anna’s dessert. One of her curls is stuck to her forehead.
“She’s going to crash so hard when we get home,” Analyse whispers from the passenger seat.
I chuckle. “She already did.”
We both glance back at the same time then look at each other and share a quiet laugh. It feels easy with Analyse. Comfortable.
I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. The porch light is still on, casting a warm golden halo over the front steps.
Maya stirs in the backseat, and I step out of my car, walk over to her side, and unbuckle her. I lift her into my arms, her head immediately dropping to my shoulder with a sleepy sigh.
“I told you I get the shower first,” she mumbles against my neck.
I smile. “I think you’ve earned it.”
Analyse is already at the door by the time I reach the porch. She opens it quietly, steps inside to flick on the hallway light, and then turns back, watching me with something soft in her eyes.
I carry Maya through the door and gently lay her on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over her. She doesn’t even stir. Just turns on her side and hugs the nearest pillow.
“She’ll probably be out until the morning,” Analyse whispers.
“Probably.”
Analyse turns to me. “Tonight was a great night. Really.”
I glance at her. “It was.”
She leans against the doorframe, arms folded loosely in front of her. “You want water or something before you go?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I should let you get some sleep.”
She nods but doesn’t move. Neither do I. A curl slips free from the clip in her hair, falling into her face. Without thinking, I reach out and gently brush it back, tucking it behind her ear. My knuckles graze her skin, and she stills beneath my touch. Her eyes flick up to mine.
She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t say anything. But she doesn’t move either. I let my hand drop.
“It was nice seeing you in your element,” she says quietly.
I glance over at her. “You see me at the firehouse all the time.”
“Yeah…but not like this.”
I tilt my head. “Like what?”
She hesitates and then shrugs. “I don’t know. Tonight just felt…different.”
Another curl falls. I leave it this time.
“Goodnight, chula,” I say, stepping back.
“Goodnight, Mateo.”
She opens the door slowly, pausing in the frame like she’s about to say something else—but she doesn’t. And then she’s gone.
I walk back to my car, but my chest’s still tight, and my hand still remembers the feel of her skin.