Faith and Fidelity (23 page)

“Come on,” Evan pushed Matt backward toward the shower, feeling bold and frightened at the same time. He opened the shower curtain, urging Matt inside, then reached up to adjust the spray so it only hit the front half of the tub. He climbed in behind Matt, mindful of his bandage.

Matt tried to turn around but Evan wouldn't let him. He ran his hands gently down Matt's back, the same path as before, no hesitation as his slipped down to stroke his ass. The groan that echoed through the bathroom assured him Matt was enjoying himself.

There was no way his nearly forty-year-old self was going to get it up anytime soon— Matt had, rather efficiently, gotten Evan's best performance in a long time— so he just enjoyed the feel and sound and smell of Matt.

Evan leaned forward, pressing his lips against Matt's back, running his tongue down the bumpy ridges of his spine. Matt's whole body stilled, then he moaned and pushed back, wordlessly begging for more. Feeling emboldened, Evan pressed against Matt's back, taking a bite of wet skin at the back of his neck.

“Fuck me,” Matt whispered, and a bolt of fear knocked the lust right out of Evan's heart. No, he wasn't... couldn't...

“God, just touch me, please,” he continued, unaware of his lover's reaction. “I need your hand... something... please... ”

Evan snapped back into the moment and reached around blindly, sliding his hand from base to head in one smooth glide.

Remembering Matt's reaction, he bit down harder on the top of his spine and was rewarded with something resembling a sob from Matt's mouth. He moved his hand faster, tightening his grip until Matt began to thrash wildly, and Evan felt the moment he went over the edge, felt his orgasm in his palm.

They stood there until the water ran cool and Matt sighed, reached down to adjust the temperature.

He turned, smiling. “You're right; this is turning into a porno.”

Evan laughed, leaning against the back of the shower. “Where's my sponge bath?”

“Hang on.” Matt looked around for a washcloth, soaping it up.

“I'm going to do this clinically ‘cause frankly, I'm not up for more sexual high jinks.”

“High jinks? How old are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Hi, Elizabeth, honey. How are you, sweetheart?”

“I'm fine. We miss you, Daddy. So much. When can we come home?”

“Soon, honey, I swear.”

“Daddy!!”

“Hey, Danny. How are you son?”

“Fine. It's boring here. Can we come home now?”

“In a few days, I promise.”

“Hey, Daddy! Are you okay? Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah, Kathleen, I'm better. I miss you.”

“We're coming home soon right? Next week?”

“Definitely.”

“Daddy?”

“Miranda? How are you doing, honey?

“Um... it's fine, Daddy. How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?”

“Everything looks good. I'm coming to pick you up as soon as I can. Maybe this weekend.”

“Is Matt still there?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“Good— I'm glad you're not alone.”

They talked a few more minutes— all the same thing: We miss you. We want to come home. We love you.

He hung up the phone, staring at it for a long moment. I love you too, babies. And no one is going to take you away from me. Ever. He listened to Matt puttering around upstairs, getting dressed for his visit with Liz. He felt something in his chest tighten and twist, hurting him worse than that exploding door.

Matt dressed in the upstairs bathroom, his hands a little shaky as he buttoned his shirt.

There were a shitload of butterflies doing battle in his gut right now— some left over from the brain-melting sex he just had on the sofa and in the shower, and some from anticipating explaining the circumstances of said brain-melting sex to Liz Friedman.

God, he couldn't wait to see Liz. Never in his life had he known such a desperate need to spill his guts to another human being.

Matt jogged down the stairs. Evan was sitting on the couch, staring out the picture window. He turned his head slowly toward Matt. Nervous smiles all around.

“Hey. I'm off.”

“Have a great time. Say hi to Liz.”

“Will do. How're the kids?”

Evan swallowed. “Bored, homesick.”

“When do you want to bring them home?” Matt asked, pulling on his jacket. “I was thinking this weekend maybe.”

Home. Evan blinked suddenly, listening to Matt use that word so casually. Was he talking about their home? His and Evan's? Were they now “their” children?

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said absently.

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah— sorry. I think you wore me out. I need a nap.” Evan managed to deflect the awkward moment with a tender smile and an easy joke.

The little flush that crept across Matt's face did something to Evan's heart. Oh God.

“Well... you rest. Get some sleep— I won't be gone long. We'll do something nice for dinner.” Matt walked over to the couch and leaned down.

There was a long moment where both men held their breath, then Evan closed his eyes and let Matt press their mouths together. The kiss was chaste compared to what had gone on earlier that morning, but it didn't matter.

Matt broke the kiss, ran a hand over Evan's head in an affection gesture.

“See you later.”

“Yeah.”

Matt grabbed his keys and walked out the door, with a small backward wave before he disappeared from view.

Evan held his breath until the wounds on his chest began to ache. He felt hot and cold and tearful and fucking furious. He shook with a thousand emotions, a thousand conflicting thoughts. He wanted his kids. He wanted Matt. He wanted to go back to work. And he wanted... wanted... no. No.

Suddenly the rush disappeared and Evan was left panting and sweating. He laid weakly down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over his head. No. No. No.

A few hours later, Evan woke. He felt chilled, dirty almost.

He'd already washed up once this morning, after... Matt and he...

Abruptly, Evan got up, shaky and dizzy already but the fast movement just made it worse. He was going to go upstairs, shower, then try and get some things done. Maybe call Helena, do some Christmas planning. Something.

In blue jeans and a denim shirt, Liz met Matt at the door of her home, looking like an ad for long-distance or tissues or something really wholesome like that. The house sat on a perfectly rectangular lawn, with trees angled perfectly on either side. Perfect. Matt couldn't name the style, but it looked like a giant cottage. A cottage on steroids. He wrinkled his nose when he caught a glance of the SUV in the driveway.

“Jesus, Liz— is that mandatory or something?”

She flashed him that wide gorgeous smile that still made his heart pitter-patter a bit faster.

“I'm feeding you lunch and shrinking your head for free. Be nice.”

Matt laughed. He reached the top of the stairs and looked down at Liz, giving her a mock once-over.

“You still look normal. I don't see any pearls.”

Liz reached out and gave him a huge hug. “Hey, Haight— it's really good to see you.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Dr. Friedman.” Matt sighed a little as he felt her arms tight around him. It didn't trip his switch like it used to, but it felt nice just the same.

Breaking the embrace but keeping her arms around his, Liz looked up, giving his face a long hard look. “You okay, Haight?”

Matt smiled tightly. “I'll be fine. Let's go in— you don't have a coat on.”

Liz frowned, obviously concerned, but she didn't protest.

Matt took off his coat and hung it on the rack near the door. He looked around, finding a warm, lived-in decor— books and toys dominated every corner. It looked smart and cozy— kind of like Liz. She led him into the family room, where a fire burned brightly. More books, more toys.

And two dark-haired five-year-old boys coloring furiously at a small table.

“Jeremy, Alex— this is my friend, Matt Haight.”

Identical faces turned and gave Matt the quick once-over. The twin on the left gave him a small smile. The one on the right obviously couldn't care less and he quickly bent his head back down to the paper.

“Hi,” said Left Twin.

“Hi,” Matt replied. “Whatcha doing?”

“Coloring. Dinosaurs.”

Matt nodded. Left Twin nodded. Coloring commenced.

Matt gave Liz a look and she smiled. “Let's go into the kitchen.”

They walked down a small hallway into a huge kitchen, complete with one of those island things in the middle. There were windows on three walls and about a thousand pots on a rack above the island. Something smelled terrific.

“Hey— nice.”

“Thanks.” She motioned toward a rough wood table that looked like it seated thirty. Two places were set and Liz was approaching with a coffeepot.

“Beautiful.”

“Me or the coffee?”

Matt threw her a wink as he dumped some sugar into his coffee.

“Both?”

After taking a long swallow, Matt turned in his chair to watch Liz at the stove, doing something with spices and a wooden spoon to a pot of stew.

“The boys look good.”

“They're doing so much better. It's amazing.”

Three years before, Liz and her husband Ray were expecting their first child and Liz was pretty much just working in private practice, occasionally doing some consulting for the PD and Children's Services.

Everyone knew what a compassionate champion of children she was— so when the twin two-year-old boys were taken from their drug addicted mother, a coworker at CS called Liz. She thought they needed representation, someone to be their champion, before they were separated or ended up in a home. Ray, a lawyer, took the case pro bono.

Liz testified as to what was in their best interest. The judge severed the mother's rights but that left two biracial identical twin boys with a host of already diagnosed and potential disabilities without a home. For about a week.

Ray and Liz adopted the boys and suddenly had a much bigger family than they had anticipated— their son Peter was born during the whole saga.

Matt had kept in close touch with Liz during this trying period— he knew she was doing ten times what she had time for because that was her way— and frequently called to insist she take care of herself. He knew she appreciated it, even if she did ignore him most of the time.

“Are they in school?”

“Two days a week— a special school for kid's with emotional problems. But their teachers think they may be mainstreamed as early as second grade.” Liz fairly beamed. “I've gotten lucky with finding teachers and therapists who support the way we're handling the boys’ problems.”

Liz brought a covered dish to the table— Matt smelled warm bread— and smiled down at Matt. “They liked you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She walked over to the stove again. “So, Haight... ”

“So where's Ray and Peter?” Matt quickly asked, not quite ready to get to the heart of the matter.

“Ray took the day off to do some Christmas shopping for the boys. Peter's taking his nap upstairs.” She gestured toward a baby monitor, sitting quietly on the counter. “The boys already ate— I thought we could have a little quiet grown-up time.”

Matt nodded absently. Reached for his cup of coffee. He didn't know where to start, how to explain what was going on with his life to Liz. The first words were absolutely the hardest in this case. Liz brought the pot over and set it down, ladling up their meals quickly. She sat across from Matt and propped her head on firmly planted elbows.

“Spill.”

“The stew looks great.”

“Haight.”

“I want to eat... ”

“It's too hot; you'll burn your tongue. Tell me.”

“You're very pushy for a shrink, Liz. Aren't you supposed to be gently leading me into the conversation?”

“Liz your friend wants you to start talking. Liz the shrink will show up when and if it's needed.”

Matt sighed long and hard. He looked longingly at the stew, wishing he could chew rather than talk. He took a deep breath and said, “I've fallen in love with someone.”

She didn't say anything, and he knew she was waiting for the second half of the announcement which was hovering heavily over the table.

“A man.”

He managed to say the words, his voice suddenly thick. Liz, bless her dear heart, didn't blink or stutter or react in any other way but to reach out, take Matt's hand, and squeeze.

“Congratulations, Matt. He's a lucky person.”

Things got very blurry for a long time.

Managing to mostly ignore the bed— rumpled, the pillows bunched together in the middle... they probably smelled like Matt too— Evan grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom. He awkwardly gave himself a sponge bath, avoiding the bandage on his chest, which was nowhere near as fun as the one he got from Matt that morning.

Matt.

He wished he could finish a thought about Matt and what went on between them without feeling slightly horrified... like he wanted it, desperately, passionately, and while it was going on... God, there wasn't anything he could imagine feeling that good but then... then there was this heavy veil that dropped over his head when it was all over. It scared the hell out of him, feeling this out of control. With a man. A man he craved and wanted with all his heart, and that was terrifying. And maybe deep down he was afraid it was wrong. Wrong for a man who had been married for seventeen years, wrong for a father. Wrong for him. Damn, he was tired of this.

He put on a pair of sweats and his robe and headed slowly back downstairs. He couldn't seem to get warm. Maybe some tea would help...

He heard the doorbell ring.

“Evan!”

Susannah Post stood on Evan's front stoop in a bright pink ski jacket, a foil-wrapped Bundt shape proffered.

“Hi, Susannah.” Evan pulled his robe a little bit tighter. Even though he wore a sweat suit underneath, he felt a bit exposed to the perky blonde's brilliant smile.