Ricochet (74 page)

"July 18…" Rick traced the date with his

finger. "That was only a few months after she left

me with my dad. I remember because it was spring

when she went."

"She must have arranged her own funeral - the

gravestone sounds like she wrote the words," Matt

said. "
Mother of one beautiful, beloved son,

Richard.
"

"She didn't just arrange the funeral on her

own," Rick said quietly. "She must have died

alone too. She didn't have anyone except me, and

she'd already given me up."

"You've found her again now. She'd be

pleased about that."

"Nobody's taken care of this place in over

twenty-five years." Rick looked down on the

weeds growing all over the grave.

"That's why I brought these." Matt put his bag

down and opened it to reveal shears, cloths and

cleaning fluid.

"I always knew that neat-freak thing you've

got going on would come in useful one day." Rick

shot a tired smile at his sub.

Matt smiled back. "I knew you'd learn to

appreciate it."

They cleared the grave together, removing the

weeds and picking out the moss from the

gravestone.

"We can pay the cemetery to do this going

forward if we want," Matt said. "Or we can come

and do it ourselves."

"How did you say you found where she was

buried?" Rick asked as they worked.

Matt paused and flicked a strand of hair out of

his eyes, leaving a dirty streak on his forehead. "I

did some research…" He trailed off and stood up,

chewing on his lip. "See, thing is, Rick…"

Rick rested his hand on the gravestone,

hoping his mom somehow knew he'd come to visit,

after all these years. "You know, I used to think I

liked chaos in my life," he said. "I thought I liked

being on a roller coaster, going up and down,

enjoying the thrill of the ride, but now…" Rick

rocked back on his heels. "Now I think I'd like

some peace and quiet for a while. No more drama.

No more bad news."

Matt gazed at him for a long moment and then

nodded. "No more bad news," he murmured,

crouching down again.

They worked on it for a long time, until it

looked neat and tidy, like the person lying in it had

been loved and not abandoned and neglected for

years.

When they were done, Matt packed away the

cleaning materials in his bag while Rick stood in

front of the grave, gazing down on it.

"'Night, Mom, sleep tight," he said, placing

the single white rose on the ground in front of the

gravestone. "Don't let the bed bugs bite." He

smiled as he recited the little rhyme, remembering

the words she'd said to him every night when she

put him to bed as a little boy.

Rick cleared his throat and straightened up.

He held out his hand, and Matt took it, and they

walked back to the car together.

Matt didn't sleep well for the next few nights,

and the night before Sean was due back, he

couldn't sleep at all. He lay silently in bed,

wrestling with his guilt, trying not to wake Rick,

but it was no use. Eventually he slipped out and

went along the hallway to the playroom.

They had played in here a few times since his

collaring; Rick liked to spoil him by indulging his

fantasies, and they'd acted out several different

scenes, in addition to the sex they had as

themselves, in the bedroom, or the living room, or

the kitchen, or any of the other places in the house

where Rick waylaid him.

Matt rested his hand on the St Andrew's

cross. Rick had tied him up here a few days ago

and teased him with a riding crop until he was

begging for mercy. Sometimes their scenes were

playful, and sometimes they were intense, but the

one thing they had in common was the level of trust

between dom and sub. Matt trusted Rick implicitly,

even when he was tormenting his naked, bound

body mercilessly.

It worked both ways though - he knew Rick

trusted him too, and Matt felt like he'd betrayed

that trust now. He had only been with Rick for a

couple of weeks and already he was lying to him

and keeping secrets. What did that say about their

relationship?

The anxiety was tying Matt up in knots, and he

hated how it felt. This wasn't who he was. He

wasn't someone who lied to his dom, but after that

emotional trip to the cemetery how could he

possibly tell Rick the truth now?

Rick had said it himself - he was tired of the

avalanche of bad news. He was shell-shocked;

Matt could see that just by looking at him. His life

had been turned upside down in the past few days,

and he was reeling. Sean had been right not to

want to burden him with news of his own illness

too. No matter how much Rick hated his father,

Matt had no doubt that learning he had terminal

cancer would bring up some strong emotions for

his dom when he was already dealing with the

news about his mom.

Yet Matt wasn't happy keeping this secret,

either. Was that just his own weakness? Should he

be strong and stay silent for Rick? Was that

protecting Rick or betraying him? Matt went round

and round in circles with it, unable to think straight

enough to reach an answer.

"Hey," a voice behind him said, and he

jumped. "What's up?" Rick turned on the light,

making Matt blink, and came into the room. "Are

you thinking of all the games we can play in here?"

he asked, with a grin. "I've been neglecting you

lately; we haven't played in a few days."

Matt ached to tell him the truth, but Rick

looked tired and washed out. Maybe now wasn't

the time.

"You've had other things on your mind," he

said quietly.

Rick reached out to wrap an arm around his

waist, and Matt flinched. He didn't want Rick

touching him or loving him right now when he was

keeping this secret from him.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked, looking hurt.

"Sorry - I'm feeling sort of weird. Rick…"

Matt looked up at him. How did he tell Rick that

his father had left the box, and visited the house,

and told him where his mom was buried? How did

he tell him that his father was dying, and that he

had a sister? Where did he even start? It was too

much, coming so soon after learning about his

mom.

"Hmm?" Rick kissed his hair.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Matt smiled. "I'm fine."

"You would tell me if anything was up, or you

were worried about something, wouldn't you,

Matty?"

"Of course. Nothing's up. I'm fine."

Rick held him at arm's length and gazed at

him intently. "You can tell me anything. You know

that, don't you?"

"Sure." Matt smiled. "Go back to bed; I'll be

there soon." He watched Rick go, counting

anxiously in his head.

Hopefully this situation wouldn't go on for

much longer. Sean was due back tomorrow - and

Matt would insist they resolve it then. He wasn't

going to keep lying like this.

Rick had barely left for his usual run the next

morning when there was a knock on the door. Matt

saw a familiar outline through the glass and his

heart skipped a guilty beat as he went to open it.

"Hey," Sean said. "Did you go to the

cemetery? Did you find Julie's grave?"

"Yes." Matt opened the door to let Sean into

the house and showed him into the dining room,

like before.

Sean sat down. "And how's Rick doing?" he

asked gently. "Is he okay?"

"He's upset - understandably. But I think it's a

good thing that he finally knows what happened to

his mom."

"Did you tell him I'd visited?" Sean asked.

"No." Matt shook his head. "But I'm not happy

about it. It doesn't feel right. I don't like lying to

him."

"You're just protecting him. You're being a

good sub, Matt, taking care of your dom." Sean

wiped away some sweat from his forehead,

absently scratching his head… and his hair moved.

Matt gave a little start. "Sorry about that. Damn

wig." Sean grimaced. "I wouldn't bother with it,

but John says it'll scare Sarah if I suddenly show

up with a bald head. It's so damn hot in this

weather."

"You can take it off in here, if it helps," Matt

said, and Sean gave him a grateful smile and

removed the wig, to reveal a smooth, bald head

underneath.

"Another side effect of the chemo." He

sighed.

"Is it working? I mean, you said you were

dying…"

"Yeah, I am. The chemo is buying me some

time, but probably not much. Here - would you like

to see a photo of Sarah?"

Sean reached into his pocket and took out a

photo of a pretty young girl with short dark hair.

Sean had his arm around her, and on the other side

was a man, probably in his mid-forties, also with

his arm around her. They were all smiling happily.

Matt studied the photo, trying to find some

hint of Rick in the girl's features. "She looks like a

sweet kid."

"She is!" Sean beamed. "I'd like to bring her

to visit you - maybe tomorrow, when Rick's out on

his run again?"

Matt shook his head. "No. Look, Sean, I'm not

happy to keep deceiving Rick like this. You need

to speak to him, come clean about your illness, and

about Sarah, and all of it." He waved his hand in

the air. "I know it'll be a lot for him to handle, but I

won't lie to him anymore. It's not right."

"I understand that." Sean nodded. "But let's

keep it between ourselves for a little while longer,

Matt. I'll know when the time is right." He reached

out and patted Matt's hand. "Could I have a drink

of water?" Sean asked. "My throat gets parched -

it's such a hot day, and the chemo always dries out

my mouth."

"Of course." Matt went into the kitchen and

poured a glass of water, lost in thought. He was

about to return to the dining room when he

hesitated. If Sean wasn't going to agree to tell Rick

then he had to do it himself because this felt all

kinds of wrong. He got out his cell phone and

punched Rick's speed dial.

"Come on - pick up, please pick up," Matt

whispered, casting a furtive glance towards the

dining room. He heard the cheery tones of Rick's

voicemail message and could have yelled in

frustration. Rick ran with music pounding into his

ears; he probably hadn't heard the call, and that

was why it had gone straight to voicemail. Matt

didn't know what to say, but he left a confused

message anyway.

"Rick, I think I've done something stupid.

Please come home. Your father is here, and…

sorry… this isn't making any sense - just come

home now, and I'll explain everything."

Then he put the phone away, picked up the

glass of water, and returned to the dining room.

It was a beautiful sunny day, but Rick couldn't

shake the feeling that something was wrong. He

wasn't sure what, but he had an uneasy feeling in

his gut.

He stepped up the pace, trying to outrun it, but

the sensation worsened if anything.

He kept remembering the way Matt had

flinched away from him in the playroom. That

wasn't like Matt. He could be skittish, sure, and

sometimes it took a while to settle him down so he

could enjoy his submission, but he'd never flinched

like that, just from a loving touch.

He was also counting. Rick could see he was

counting all the time at the moment and had been

ever since their visit to the cemetery. What was it

about that trip that had set him off? His counting

and his OCD about neatness had both eased

considerably since Rick had collared him. They'd

never completely go away, but Rick knew how to

calm his sub and that made them more manageable.

They only resurfaced when he was feeling

particularly stressed.

Why was he so stressed right now? Was