Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (42 page)

“Well, that’s romantic in its own way,” I tell her.

“Maybe,” she says doubtfully, then grumbles, “Fireworks would have been nice, though.”

Laughing, we settle back in our chairs and of course my mind is in overdrive wondering if and when Matthew might propose again. “It’s too soon,” I finally tell Claire. “I mean, we’ve been apart for five years and despite the fact we’re both trying desperately to ignore that, when it comes down to it, it’s an issue we need to work through. Especially now. We’re different people than we were when I left.”

“But you love him.” Claire sounds very confident in that. “And he loves you.”

I smile sadly. “Love has never been a problem between us. Neither has attraction. It’s a matter of two very stubborn people working through issues that might turn out to be insurmountable.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Claire says. Even though I’m not looking at her, I know she’s rolling her eyes at me. “I’ve told both of you what I think of your relationship and that’s not changed—you two belong together and if you want it enough, you can get through anything.”

I shrug, staring out into the backyard. “Lucy was here today.”

She snorts in disgust. “Yeah, I saw her,” she grumbles, raising her hand to tick things off her fingers. “Fake tan. Fake boobs. Fake lips. Fake personality... I swear to God she doesn’t so much work with my father as she’s an experiment in artificial life. If Matt for some God forsaken reason had married her, I think I would have strangled them both. I honestly don’t understand why my dad and sisters think she’s such a good match for him. Not when they’ve seen him with you.”

“I’ve resigned myself to the realization I’ll never have their approval,” I say evenly, trying not to betray the disappointment I feel at the thought. “They’re always going to think the worst of me; maybe I just need to be a little less sensitive.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Claire says. “You know the truth. I know the truth. And most importantly,
Matt
knows the truth. My sisters are hatemongers; they’re always going to find something to bitch about. And as for you and Matt, give it time. Before we know it, you two will be right back to being the sickening, love-lost couple you were years ago and it will disgust me to be in the same room with you.”

I laugh. “Thanks,” I say through my snickering. “I think...”

Behind us, the door opens. “Hey, you two done gossiping?” Danny asks. “Kids are buckled in the car and asleep. Matt’s got Tyler.”

Twenty minutes later, we’ve all said our goodbyes, taken the leftover food Diane forced on us, and we’re heading home. When we left, Matthew seemed to be in a decent enough mood, tired maybe. But the further we get from his parents’ home, the more withdrawn and broody he’s becoming. Glancing in the back seat, I confirm Tyler is fast asleep before breaking the silence.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him quietly, reaching over to slide my hand under his on the armrest.

His gaze darts briefly to me and the quick smile I see is forced. “Yeah, of course,” he tells me, lifting my fingers to his lips to kiss them. “Did you enjoy the party?”

I nod, sighing inwardly to myself. “Better than I thought it’d be,” I admit, unwilling to let him change the subject so easily. “What did Danny want before we left?”

His fingers squeeze mine as his body stiffens, and I know I’m not wrong about something bothering him. “He just wanted to go over a few things with me. Apparently there’s a lot of paperwork when you come back from the dead.”

Deflection with humor. Normally it would work. Not today. “Matt, it’s more than that and we both know it.”

Sighing heavily, he drops my hand and runs it through his hair. “Sam, it’s nothing,” he finally tells me. “Or not nothing, but something I need to look into.”

“About the chip? The kidnapping?”

His hesitation is enough to let me know I’m right on the money with my assumption. “Like I said, something I need to look into,” he repeats. “There are still a lot of loose ends that need to be sorted. Until then, it’s better to not bother you with it.”

I want to tell him to bother me. I want to know what’s on his mind, for him to trust me enough to be able to handle whatever is going on. Though at the same time, I wonder whether I
could
handle it right now. We still don’t know the identity of the woman from the boat, nor are we any closer to finding out who orchestrated this whole mess to begin with. Matthew may not have told me in plain terms, but I know the danger hasn’t yet passed. Not completely, anyway.

Though if I expect him to trust me enough to confide in me, I have to trust that he’ll tell me in his own time and that he’ll protect us from anything that tries to harm us. And I do trust him. My fear is that he’ll be so wrapped up in keeping us safe that he’ll disregard that danger to him and end up hurt again.

By the time we arrive home, Matthew and I are both lost in a brooding silence as I get Tyler out of the backseat and take him up to his bedroom. Matthew walks with us as far as his office. “I need to make a couple phone calls,” he tells me quietly, rubbing gentle circles on Tyler’s sleeping back. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but if you’re tired, don’t wait up.”

I give him a tight smile of acquiescence and he kisses my lips before disappearing behind the double doors of his office. Sighing, I continue on to Tyler’s bedroom and go about changing him into his pajamas. He doesn’t make it easy of course; one would think changing the clothes of a sleeping six-year-old would be simple, but his limp body is more a hindrance than anything else, and it takes nearly twenty minutes to get him tucked into his bed. After dropping a kiss on his forehead, I leave the room, intending to go to my and Matthew’s bedroom, change into my pajamas, and crawl into bed to sleep. That intention is dead in the water as I walk past Matthew’s office and hear him speaking tersely to someone. I know I probably shouldn’t eavesdrop on him and his phone conversations, but something about his tone bothers me.

“It has to be a mistake,” he says in a firm whisper to whomever he’s speaking. He sighs heavily at whatever he’s being told. “No. It’s not an option, so you can stop suggesting it. Have you tracked down Frank Marone yet?”

My eyes widen and despite knowing I need to leave him to his conversation, I’m frozen in place, almost desperate to hear the answer.

“He can’t have gone far,” Matthew comments. “His passports and known aliases have been red flagged, and even if he did get out of the country, there are people all over the place looking for him.” He chuckles darkly. “The travel agency has been searched. He had cameras everywhere and let’s just say if I ever get my hands on him, he’s going to regret the placement of some of those. He had one in the ceiling, staring right down at Samantha’s desk. You can’t tell me that was a necessary view for security.”

And now I feel sick. I don’t even want to imagine the views Frank might have gotten from those cameras, nor do I want to remember some of the low-cut blouses or dresses I wore to work and the show it might have given him. Somehow I make it back to the bedroom and the wave of nausea begins to pass as I slip into the comforting, safe haven of our bed. Nothing can touch me here. It might be naïve to believe that, but it’s what I need right now, and eventually it does the trick and I fall asleep.

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

I have no idea how much time has passed since I came to bed, but I’m wakened by the warm, gentle lips pressed against the back of my neck. Sighing sleepily, I smile to myself as I feel Matthew’s hands caress my skin beneath the t-shirt I stole from his dresser.

“Can I help you?” I grumble, trying to feign annoyance.

He only chuckles and moves his lips to my earlobe. “What do you think?” he asks huskily, pressing his erection into my hip.

“I think I’m trying to sleep and you’re interrupting me.”

Before I can even wipe away the grin on my face, he’s flipped me onto my back and pushes himself up to loom over me, his messy hair hanging down around his face. “Is that so?” he asks archly, pressing his hips into mine. I stifle a gasp, but can’t keep from biting my lip. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose sleep. Perhaps another time...”

He starts to roll off me, but I quickly lock my legs around his waist to prevent such movement. He’s grinning at me. The bastard. “You’ve already woken me up,” I tell him. “Might as well finish what you’ve started.”

With a throaty laugh, he leans down and kisses me deeply, my hands easily finding their way into his hair while his slip his t-shirt over my body. “As much as I love you wearing my clothes,” he tells me, pulling away just long enough to remove the shirt completely, “I think it has to go.” I mumble some sort of agreement that probably doesn’t make sense to either of us, and he turns his attention back to me. His breathing is becoming erratic as he tears away from my lips to trail kisses down my neck, then further down my body until I’m a quivering mess. When he returns to meet my gaze, he’s removed his pajama pants and I’m struggling to catch my breath, staring at him with wide, needy eyes.

And he chooses this moment to slow down. Again, the bastard. He rests his weight on one elbow beside my head and uses his free hand to push away the hair from my face so he can see me more clearly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to the side of my face. “And you have no idea how much I love you.”

I can only gasp as he presses himself into my body, gripping his back to hold him against me. “I think I do,” I manage to articulate. “Now shut up and move.”

He laughs breathily. “So demanding,” he murmurs. A moment later neither of us could form words even if we tried as we desperately try to make the other feel what it is we’re feeling. There is no part of me that doesn’t feel just how much I mean to him and I hope he knows the reverse is true for me—I don’t ever want to let him go. Come hell or high water, I’m here until the very end.

Then my thoughts come to a sudden halt as Matthew expertly pushes me right over the edge, his eyes full of determination and his own raw need. I can’t think of anything but him or look anywhere but into his eyes
. Not that I’d really want to. I cry out and he wraps his arms around me giving me a moment before increasing his intensity, pushing into me over and over until his breath catches and he buries his face in my neck, groaning in ecstasy.

At this moment, I know this is where I belong. Nothing outside this house matters—not kidnappers or conspirators or even family members that would rather see us apart and miserable than together and happy. It’s just me and Matthew and our little family; the rest is just details.

It’s taken me five years to get back here and now that I am, I have no intention of leaving or losing everything I’ve regained ever again.

Writing has always been my "thing". It's a necessity for me and no matter my mood, it has the power to take me away from reality. Whether it be fantasy, horror, mystery, or a love story, I'm into all of it and only now am I starting to get into my stride and I'm eager to see just how much further this little hobby of mine will take me.

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The Youngs’ story continues in
Young Revelations
and
Young Truths
!