Page 32 of Switch Hitter

“Don’t say my name like that,” I snap. “Don’t act like we’re… like it’s… like it means something.”

Emiliano’s gaze doesn’t move. “It does mean something.”

My chest burns, and I shove past him toward the kitchen like I need distance, like air will fix it. I yank the fridge open and stare into it like the empty space is going to somehow solve my sexuality.

It does not.

Emiliano follows me into the kitchen, leaning against the far counter, giving me space but making sure he’s still present.

“You need to eat,” he says.

I slam the fridge door harder than necessary. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asks, calmly.

“Stop acting like you get to take care of me,” I hiss.

Emiliano’s mouth tilts. “I’m not taking care of you. I’m telling you to eat because you look like shit. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not into the whole ‘starvation to atone for my sins’ look.”

Is he fucking with me right now?

I glare. “I’m fine. I ate a protein bar at practice.”

“You’re not,” he says. “And a protein bar doesn’t replace every meal you’ve skipped.”

I hate him. I hate him so much.

Because he’s right.

The son of a bitch can see through me like I’m glass.

So, being the smart ass I am, I grab a protein shake, twist it open, take a sip, and immediately regret it.

But I’m committed to it now.

Emiliano watches me drink it like it’s a victory, like he just got me to comply with something. It makes my temper spike again.

“Happy?” I spit.

He nods once. “A little. I’d feel better if it was food you actually had to chew… but the night’s still young.”

I want to throw the bottle at his head; instead, I take another sip like a stubborn child just to prove I can.

Emiliano’s gaze drifts to the coffee table, eyes on the rosary I left there.

My throat tightens.

He looks back at me, his voice softer now. “Is that why?”

Everything in me freezes.

“No,” I say too fast.

Emiliano’s eyebrows lift. “You don’t have to lie to me, Cobre.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap.

He doesn’t flinch. “Why not? You let me call you that when you’re pressed against a fence. Or when I have you face down⁠—”