Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (18 page)

When my plane touched down and I arrived at baggage claim, Matthew was standing at the doors, anxiously looking around as though he’d expected me to not show up. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket, despite it being July, and I could tell he’d been running his hands through his hair from the way it stuck straight up. When his eyes had finally found me clutching the straps of my backpack so tightly my knuckles had turned white, his face lit up in a slow, soft grin that he reserved specifically for me. At that moment, I’d forgotten completely my nervousness about losing my virginity. If it happened, I couldn’t think of anyone in the world with whom I’d rather share the experience than the man who had been pushing his way through the crowd of people waiting for their baggage to arrive. And when he reached me, he didn’t even hesitate to pull me into the most incredible kiss I’d ever experienced. Not that I actually had any experience. I think I’d had expectations that my leg would kick up and he’d lift me off the ground and twirl me, as soft music played in the background while people applauded. There wasn’t any of that, but he did take my breath away.

He grabbed my bags for me and led me out to his car, where he opened the door for me. We had dinner at a very nice Italian restaurant and the conversation flowed much more easily than I believed it would—talking over the phone and via computer is one thing; talking in-person is completely different. I thought we might be awkward together, but he made sure everything was perfect. When he took me to his home, I was speechless and it was obvious he was pleased that I liked it. He even showed me to the guestroom, telling me he didn’t want to make presumptions about my stay. We didn’t share a bed until my third night there and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect night. He was sweet and attentive and gentle and patient. I thought he might have been bored by me; I clearly had no idea what I was doing and at the time, and I couldn’t imagine someone like him wanting to waste his time teaching me when he could have had his pick of much more interesting, beautiful, experienced women.

I’d never been more wrong about anything. I never understood what it is he saw in me, but learned not to question it. Looking at him now sitting beside me at Claire’s breakfast table grinning and laughing like the last five years never happened, the question returns. Last night feels like a dream, one I don’t want to wake up from, and once again, I cannot believe my luck. The fact that he’s leaving soon confirms I’m wide awake and I really don’t want to see him go. Just like the day I left his house after my two-week visit, I can’t help wondering whether the distance between us will make him feel as though last night was a mistake.

Something squeezes my thigh and I look up to find Matthew watching me, a knowing expression on his face. “Don’t,” he tells me in a whisper.

“Don’t what?” I bristle slightly.

“Worry. Over think. Jump to conclusions,” he rattles off immediately. “Take your pick.”

I roll my eyes, smiling a little. “Sorry,” I say. “Can’t help it.”

“I know,” he says sincerely. “But let’s not ruin my last hour here with insecurity. Yours or mine.”

Insecure? Matthew? Surely not... He is the least insecure person I’ve ever met in my life. But looking at him I see the same expression I know has been on my face all through breakfast. Somehow it’s comforting. At least I know I’m not alone in being concerned over the unknown. And that is without a doubt what our future is currently: Unknown. We can promise each other whatever we want at this point; we’re both lost in our post-
post
-coital haze and once it lifts, who knows where our minds will be.

Still, I manage to put a smile on my face, not bothering to believe he might think it’s real. I watch with a mixture of happiness and sadness as Matthew and Tyler talk. I don’t even know what they’re talking about and I don’t really care; they adore each other, it’s written on both their faces. Given time to bond properly, I know they’d be best friends joined at the hip. Matthew would teach Tyler everything he knows, whether it’s appropriate or not, and Tyler would hang onto his every word. He already is.

I notice the two of them talking quietly, looking grimly at Tyler’s toy Batman watch. My son is nodding seriously at whatever Matthew is telling him, tapping the watch face to emphasize whatever point he was trying to make. When he’s done Matthew grins fondly and ruffles our son’s head, looking over at my questioning gaze with nothing more than a wink.

Before I’m ready—not that I could ever really be ready—it’s time to once again say goodbye to Matthew. Claire and Danny take the kids outside so we have a few minutes to ourselves. Without hesitating, I cross the short distance between us and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. He circles my shoulder and holds me in place, his lips resting in my hair. “You realize this is temporary, right?” he asks, his voice muffled by my hair.

I nod into his chest, even if I don’t completely believe it.

He pulls back, hooking his fingers under my chin and lifting so I have no other choice than to look at him. “I have spent five years wanting you and Tyler back,” he tells me firmly. “Do you really think I’m going to risk losing you again?” When all I can do is bite my lip and let my chin tremble, he chuckles softly and kisses me. “When I get back, I want to take you and Ty away for a few days. So while I’m gone, I want you to start thinking about where the two of you might like to go. Anywhere you want. Just say the word and we’re there. Okay?”

Smiling finally, I let him kiss me fully, putting as much of what I feel for him into it as I can. Much as I want to say the words to him, I’m hesitant and I don’t know why. Maybe I’m afraid that if I tell him I love him, it’ll all be taken away from me again. “Call me when you land?” I ask him.

“Of course,” he promises. With one last kiss, he releases me and turns towards the door. Before he closes it, he turns back to me. “I left you something upstairs in my jacket. And I don’t want to hear any arguments that you won’t accept it for whatever noble reasons you might have. Just take it.”

I nod bewilderedly, he winks, and then he’s gone. I’m stood rooted on the spot for several seconds before rushing to the door and peeking out the window just in time to see Leo driving them away. Suddenly I have a bad feeling about all of this and I wish there was a way I could get a hold of Matthew and talk him out of whatever it is he has planned—I know there’s more to it than simply selling a piece of technology. All his words last night about trusting him to know what he’s doing, trusting that he’s doing this for me and Tyler, trusting that he loves us. Those aren’t the words of a man leaving for a business trip.

Turning around with the intention of going to search for my son, I find Claire leaning against the wall watching me. “I’m not really in the mood to be given any shit over this, Claire,” I tell her wearily.

She raises an eyebrow. “I should probably feel a little offended that you’d think so lowly of me, but I’ll ignore that for now,” she says dryly. “Are you okay?”

I shrug, sitting on the bottom stair leading up. She walks around to sit with me. “Why is it that whenever your brother comes into my life he turns everything upside down?” I ask, resting my head on her shoulder.

Her head leans against mine. “Because that’s what he does,” she says seriously. “I don’t think he knows another way to live. What I do know is that I haven’t seen him looking the way he did this morning in five years. I could make cracks about how disgusting it is to know my brother and best friend were screwing in my guestroom, but I won’t, because both of you looked so very different this morning than you have lately. I read Matt the riot act last night and this morning for the shit he’s pulled and now it’s your turn.” My eyes widen, uncertain what it is I’m about to hear, but judging by the look on her face, I’m probably not going to like it much. “I’m not one to get involved in my siblings’ relationships and I’m not about to start now, so this is the last time you’ll hear me say anything about it. I don’t know what happened between you and Matt last night, and for more than one reason, I don’t really care. What I do care about, however, is seeing the two of you happy, whether that means you’re together or living in separate states. I care about that little boy outside playing with my kids who lights up whenever Matt walks into a room.” I flinch, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. I’ve seen it too. “I hope the two of you sit down and talk this shit out this time around rather than jumping right into something. You know what you’d be getting into with Matt, the good and the bad. Think about it. Make sure it’s what you both want and make sure, whatever decision you come to, you’ve considered Tyler. Whatever you two do, that little boy is going to be affected ten times more than either of you.”

“I know,” I tell her quietly, neither of us moving our heads. “Tyler is my number one concern right now. Before myself. Before Matt.”

“Good,” she says simply, putting an arm around my shoulders in a half-hug. “Now we’re going to ignore for a moment that my brother was involved at all—how was last night?”

I half-laugh, half-groan at the teasing suggestiveness in her voice. “I am not doing this with you,” I tell her, trying to push her away. “I love you dearly, Claire, but no.”

“Aw, come on!” she pleads. “Don’t be such a prude!”

I’ll show her prude...
As I stand and head towards the backyard, I flip her off and hear her surprised laughter following me all the way.

-------------o-------------

It’s late when Matthew calls to tell me he’s landed in Italy. He sounds exhausted, but assures me the flight went well, everything seems set for him to start heading home in a few days, and reminds me to start thinking about where Ty and I might like to go when he gets back. Before we hang up, he hesitantly asks me whether I’ve looked in his jacket pocket yet. I haven’t. To be honest, I completely forgot about it—between Claire trying to get details from last night and making me blush every shade of red the human body can produce, and my son running around with his cousins like a little lunatic, I haven’t had much time for anything else.

Matthew seems relieved that I haven’t looked in his jacket and tells me to remove the wrapped box and put it somewhere safe for when he comes home. Of course, this only entices my curiosity and I try to needle an explanation from him, but in typical Matthew-style he evades all my tactics, which, to both of our surprise, seems to include an offer of phone sex.

The groan he emits the moment my words register in his mind are enough to have me squirming around the bed, but he declines the offer, citing exhaustion. He demands a rain check, though, before he comes home and I bite my lip against the grin at the huskiness in his voice. I know what caused that and I’m pretty damn proud to have been the contributing party. We say goodnight, linger on the line together longer than necessary, neither of us wanting to be the one to end the call. Finally when he yawns, we hang up. I set my phone on the end table and slide off the bed, crossing the room to the black leather jacket hanging over the desk chair. It’s the exact one he’s had all the time I’ve known him. He refuses to get rid of it, despite having enough money to buy an entire houseful of them. It’s faded, creased, worn, and the left-hand pocket has been torn and re-sewn at least three times that I know of, since I was the one to do it. And it smells of him. I think I’ll be wearing this until he returns, warm weather or not.

I feel around until I locate a bulge in the inside pocket and pull out a long, thin rectangular box wrapped in light blue reflective paper. Looking at it, I wonder how long he’s had this, as it seems to have been handled often. There are parts of the paper that look to have been rubbed so much that the shine has dulled. My fingers itch to rip apart the paper, but I resist, recalling my promise to Matthew not to open it until his return. With a sigh, I put the box inside a dresser drawer behind my socks so I’m not too tempted, and return to bed.

-------------o-------------

Eight years ago...

A week has gone by since Matthew Young showed up at Chet’s for the second time in six days. this time asking me to have coffee with him. Instinct had told me to keep walking away from him and to not look back. Something else told me to turn around and take a chance for a change. During the drive to the coffee shop, I repeatedly asked myself what the hell I was thinking and considered more than once taking a few wrong turns, losing him, and going home. The problem with that was despite not knowing him in the slightest apart from a very brief conversation in the diner parking lot, during which I essentially called him a stalker and threatened him with pepper spray, I got the impression he wouldn’t leave it at that. He knew where I worked. He charmed half my town. I have no doubt that it would take minimal effort for him to wheedle out where I live from one of them.

But when it came down to it, I
wanted
to have coffee with him. I wanted to know him. I wanted him to know me. And most of all, I wanted to know what it was about me that he seemed to find so interesting. The former three I think I managed; the latter I’m still working on. Much to my surprise, I actually enjoyed myself. Matthew was sweet, funny, kind. And, though I’m no expert, he’s one hell of a kisser.

Upon going home that night, far past my normal arrival, I’d fallen in bed and spent what was left of the night dreaming about him, his smile, his words, his laugh, his touch, and his lips. My punishment for staying out late had been a morning of dragging myself through my chores. Daddy had noticed I’d stayed out late and asked me about it. For the first time in my life, I’d lied to him. I told him I’d gone out with Jessie Miller, which he had known was a lie, since Jessie had been in Des Moines since Tuesday visiting her sick aunt. To my surprise, he hadn’t called me out on the lie.