Ricochet (72 page)

forget what you've done to change yourself - you

dwell on the bad stuff and forget all the good."

"There's a lot of bad stuff, Matty."

"And a lot of good," Matt said fiercely. "Your

mom would be so proud of you right now, Rick."

Rick's eyes were suddenly wet, and he pulled

back and turned away, hiding his face in his arms.

Matt pulled him back. "Hey, you don't need to

hide from me," he said softly. Rick buried his head

in Matt's shoulder, his body shaking. "It's okay, let

it go," Matt said, wrapping his arms around him

and holding him tight. "Ssh, I've got you. It's okay

to let go, Rick. Just let go… I'm here, I'll catch

you."

The dam finally broke, and Rick burrowed

his face into Matt's shirt and cried out a pain that

had been decades in the making. The storm raged

for a long time, and Matt rocked him in his arms,

holding him as the sobs wracked through his body.

A long time later, he led his drained dom up

the stairs, undressed him like a child, and guided

him into bed. He got in beside him, pulled Rick

into his arms again, and held him close for the rest

of the night, keeping him safe.

They got up late the next day, both of them

worn out by the emotion of the night before. Rick

felt strange and unsettled, and he was glad of

Matt's gentle presence nearby. So often in the past

Rick had used a sub's body like a drug, to

anaesthetize his emotions, but it wasn't like that

with Matt. With Matt he could just be and let the

emotions come, no matter how ugly, embarrassing

or overwhelming they were. He didn't have to hide

them or pretend to be someone he wasn't.

They cooked brunch together, music playing

quietly in the background. Every so often, Matt

would stop to wrap an arm around Rick's waist, or

press a kiss to his shoulder, or gently stroke his

hair. They were little gestures, but they began to

make Rick feel more human again.

They barely spoke throughout. Matt was

sweet and patient, and he seemed to instinctively

know that Rick was still reeling and needed time

and space right now.

After brunch, Rick left Matt to do the clearing

up and went back into the living room. The box

was where he'd left it the previous night, and he

had to force himself to go over to it and look

inside again. His emotions were so churned up,

and the box seemed to hold more questions than

answers.

He sat down and studied the photograph of

himself as a child in his mother's arms, trying to

remember how it had felt to be with her.

"Hey."

He looked up to find Matt standing there,

wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

"Hey." Rick patted the seat on the sofa beside

him.

"You doing okay?" Matt asked, sitting down.

"Yes. No. I was angry with her for so long for

something that wasn't her fault. It feels weird, not

having that anger inside anymore. I just feel… " he

shrugged, "So sad instead: sad, and angry, and kind

of guilty too, for judging her all these years for

something that wasn't her fault."

"You didn't know. It's such a big thing to

handle, Rick. It'll take you some time to sort

through all the emotions."

"I know, but I have so many questions, Matt. I

mean - why didn't my father tell me? Why didn't

my mom stay longer with me, to transition me into

living with my dad? Why just leave me there, with

no explanation? Why didn't he take me to visit her

when she was dying? Why didn't they explain it to

me back then? I wasn't taken to her funeral. She

just left, and that was it. I don't understand any of

that, Matt."

"It's hard to make sense of it," Matt agreed.

"Maybe she didn't want you to see her dying? She

did say in the letter that she didn't want you to see

her like that."

"She didn't have any friends or family - she

says that too. Did he leave her to die alone?" Rick

shook his head. "I hope not, Matt. I can't bear the

thought of that."

"It was a long time ago, Rick. Don't torture

yourself over something you had no power over

anyway. You were just a small child; none of this

is your fault."

"I know, but there's something else, something

I can't get out of my head." He picked up the box

and examined it closely. "Where did this box come

from, Matt? Who put it on the porch and why?

Because there's only one person I can think of

who'd have it, and I don't know why he'd give it to

me."

"Your father?"

Rick slammed the box back down on the

table. "Yeah."

"You don't think he forged all this, did he?"

Matt waved a hand at the box. "For some weird

reason of his own?"

"No." Rick drew out the letter on top of the

pile. "This is my mom's handwriting - I recognize

it from a toy I used to have that she wrote my name

on. This is how she did the 'R', with that loopy

thing." He traced it with his finger. "No, this is

definitely from her - but why would my father

leave it for me now?"

"Maybe he feels guilty about not giving it to

you before?" Matt suggested.

Rick laughed. "No, Matt. Seriously, if you

knew my father you'd know that everything he does

is for one purpose only - to benefit him."

"But there doesn't seem to be anything to be

gained by him giving it to you now. So, maybe

something's changed for him? Maybe he's reaching

out to you now for a reason?"

"No." Rick shook his head. "He isn't reaching

out to me, Matt; this is him playing mind games, as

usual." He paused, the alternative buzzing around

in his mind. "Unless it wasn't him."

Matt glanced at him sharply. "Who else

would it be?"

"I just wondered… I mean, I know she said

she was dying… but suppose she didn't? Suppose

she survived, and she put this box here for me

herself?"

Matt sighed. "I'm not sure, Rick. I mean, why

wouldn't she have come back for you, if that's the

case?"

"Maybe she couldn't find us? Or maybe my

father wouldn't let me go?"

"I don't know," Matt said uncertainly.

"You think that's just what I want to believe?"

"Maybe. I mean, it's understandable, but…

yeah. I do."

"You could be right." Rick got up and

stretched. "I need to clear my head; I'm going for a

run."

"Okay - I'll do some more unpacking while

you're gone. And hey - don't push yourself too

hard." Matt pressed another of those gentle kisses

to his cheek.

As he left the house, Rick couldn't shake the

feeling that he was missing something. It did matter

who had left the box on his doorstep. It mattered

very much. He just couldn't figure out why.

Rick had only been gone a couple of minutes

when there was a loud knock on the door. Matt

went into the hallway and saw his dom's tall,

broad-shouldered shape through the glass in the

front door.

"Did you forget your keys?" he called,

yanking the door open - and then he stopped short.

The man on the front porch wasn't Rick - but

he could have been. He was the same height, had

the same long, lean legs, and the same broad

shoulders. He also had the same dark hair and

handsome face, although his was more lined and

lived in. The only major difference was that his

eyes were jet black, whereas Rick's were green.

"Hello sweetheart," Rick's father said.

Matt tried to slam the door on him, but it

wouldn't shut. He looked down to see a black

leather boot in its way.

"You must be Matt - I've seen your picture in

the magazines, but you're a stunner in real life. I

always knew Rick had an eye for pretty subs, but

you're actually beautiful - not one of those plastic

people he usually goes for. Maybe my boy has

grown up and learned to appreciate real beauty

when he sees it these days."

"You're trying to flatter me?" Matt rolled his

eyes. "Seriously?"

"Oh, I mean every word, sweetheart. You are

a beauty. So, it looks like you know who I am."

"Yeah, I know. Rick said you look like him - I

had no idea how much, though." Now Matt had met

the man, Rick's fears about turning into his father

made a lot more sense; they looked practically

identical.

"Well, technically speaking, he looks like

me." Rick's father really was absurdly handsome -

just like Rick. He also had Rick's charisma, and

Matt could see why subs would fall for him. There

was something about the way the O'Shea men

inhabited their skin that made them so sexy.

"I can't believe you showed up here after

what you did to Rick."

"I've got my reasons. Look, shall we start

again?" Rick's father asked beseechingly. "I don't

want to get off on the wrong foot with my boy's

sub. Here, let me introduce myself properly: I'm

Sean. Sean O'Shea." He shoved his hand through

the gap in the door.

"I don't care why you're here, and Rick's out

in any case," Matt said, ignoring the hand.

"I know. I waited for him to go before I

knocked; it's you I want to talk to."

Matt made a mental note to tell Rick to lock

the gates next time he went out for a run. "Well, I

don't have anything to say to you!" he retorted. "So

why don't you go back into whatever sewer you

crawled out of."

Sean gave a pained sigh. "Look, sweetheart, I

don't know what Rick has told you about me, but

the truth might not be exactly how he painted it."

"I'd believe Rick over you any day, and I'm

not your damn sweetheart. Now get your foot out

of my door and leave."

"I understand why you don't trust me, and I'm

really sorry about it." A wistful look crept into

Sean's dark eyes. "But I came here because there's

something I need Rick to know."

"Then why don't you call him and tell him

yourself?"

"Because he won't take my calls, but this is

important." Sean ran a hand over his stubbly chin,

making a rasping sound. "Look, Matt, could we

have this conversation inside?"

"No, and we aren't having a conversation -

we have nothing to talk about."

"I know I did some bad stuff, Matt, but trust

me, I had a good reason."

"For blackmailing your own son out of

hundreds of thousands of dollars and then throwing

him under the bus anyway? What the hell kind of

reason could you have for that?"

"I'm dying," Sean said unexpectedly.

Matt blinked. "I don't believe you."

"But it's true all the same." Sean gave a rueful

shrug. "I've got cancer, Matt, and I don't have long

to live. Yes, I did get money out of Rick, but I

needed it to pay my medical bills - and to look

after my daughter when I'm gone."

"Your daughter?" That brought Matt up short;

Rick had never mentioned having a sister.

"Yeah. She's just a kid - ten years old; I

needed the money to help provide for her future."

"You could have asked Rick instead of

blackmailing him."

"He wouldn't have given it to me: Rick has a

blind spot where I'm concerned. I did try and be a

good dad to him, but I know he doesn't see it that

way. Please… let me in." Sean sounded so sincere

that for a moment Matt almost believed him; then

he remembered Rick's warnings.

"No." Matt tried to slam the door again, but

this time Sean stopped it with his hand.

"I have some information about Rick's mom,"

he said quietly.

Matt hesitated. "Rick's mom?"

"Yes. Did Rick open the box I left for him?"

"So it was you who left it!"

"Yes - it was a peace offering. Look, Matt, I

need to put my relationship with Rick right, or it'll

be too late," Sean said urgently. "That's why I left

the box for him. Please, let me in."

He didn't look disreputable. He looked so

like Rick that Matt felt an instinctive urge to trust

him. He fought with it for a moment and then