Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
JESSE
He wasn’t jealous. Matt had a pack to run. Bryce was his beta. Of course they’d be off doing pack stuff. And Jesse wasn’t a member of the pack, so it was none of his business.
But it wasn’t that which was nagging at Jesse. It was the way Bryce and Matt had seemed to have a whole conversation just with their eyes. It was a level of closeness that Jesse, who had touched almost every inch of Matt’s body, didn’t have with him.
There was nothing in Matt’s gaze that was just for Jesse.
He was as sincere with every member of his pack.
And the heat in his eyes? That was about nothing more than a quick fuck.
Jesse had forgotten the reality and lost himself in fantasy during an afternoon that might as well have been wrenched from some fairy tale.
He emerged from the mudroom on Tristan’s heels, having washed up after dealing with the horses.
Bryce was in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
Perking up at the realization Matt and Bryce must have finished their conversation, Jesse looked around, but Matt wasn’t there. Just Jason, Tristan and Bryce.
“Jesse.” Bryce’s voice, but deeper than usual. Something new thrummed through it.
Jesse was tense, ready to do whatever the moment was going to call for. Fight or flee—or maybe Bryce was simply about to tell him to set the table.
But Bryce said nothing further. He stood looking at Jesse, eyes taking in every single part of him before returning to his face. And it was like his gaze was digging into Jesse, looking for something.
Jesse wasn’t the only one to think Bryce was acting weird. Tristan was watching him closely, too.
Bryce put down his glass and walked right over to Jesse, looming into his space.
No way was Jesse going to give ground, but he thought punching Bryce might not go down too well with the rest of his pack.
His heart rate kicked up a gear, his palms grew damp, and he tried desperately not to move as Bryce stared into his eyes.
“If you’re lookin’ for a bug to put under your microscope, there’s plenty in the barn,” he said, shifting his weight slightly, ready to cut and run.
Uncomprehending, he watched Bryce’s lips twitch slightly before he sighed, long and low. “Makes sense,” he said, but seemingly was talking to himself. Then he leaned forward, his voice very low and close to Jesse’s ear. “Matt’s going to need you. Go to him.”
Jesse was already moving before he’d fully processed the words. Matt had to be in his den—that was where he and Bryce had headed earlier. Not that Jesse had been watching them or anything.
As he walked down the long, familiar hallway, Bryce’s words burrowed into Jesse. Not wants you, but needs you. Jesse didn’t know what he was walking into, but his feet carried him forward before his brain could catch up.
He pushed open the door and found Matt, hands outstretched on the mantel, arms rigid, like they were the only things holding him up. His head hung low, staring at the empty fireplace as if it held the answer to something.
The body language was completely unlike Matt. It smacked of defeat. Jesse stared for an instant before coming in and pushing the door closed behind him.
“Out.” Matt sounded wrecked. His voice, usually so deep and rich, was like sandpaper.
Jesse had no idea what the hell had happened, but he knew one thing—he wasn’t leaving. Not when it looked like Matt was one wrong move from breaking apart. He perched on an armchair and waited to find out what was going on.
“I said, get out.” Matt’s voice had a lethal edge to it—cold and utterly terrifying.
Jesse curled up in the chair, making himself comfortable. His whole life, he’d known when to walk away. It had kept him alive. But this was Matt, and for some reason, he was beginning to matter to Jesse.
“You’re goin’ to have to throw me out,” he said conversationally.
Matt drew in a breath that sounded horrifyingly like a sob, and Jesse froze. This was way outside his experience.
He wanted to—hell, he didn’t even know. Say something? Put a hand on Matt’s shoulder? Fuck that. Matt wouldn’t want that. But Jesse was still desperate to help somehow, to take away whatever was wrong.
And then Matt turned to face him, and his face…
Ravaged was the only word that came to Jesse’s mind.
Like centuries of pain had been carved into marble that was now cracking, gaping open, revealing yet more pain underneath.
He looked old and haggard, and his eyes…
It physically hurt to hold his gaze, with the heaviness of sorrow in them.
“Matt.” Jesse kept his voice low, steady. If he spoke too loud, Matt might shatter.
After the longest moment of Jesse’s life, Matt half-turned from him, rubbed his hands over his face and left them there a while. Then he turned back to Jesse, painful question in his eyes. “You ever carry a weight so long that, when it’s taken away, it feels wrong to be without it?”
“Can’t honestly say I have, but I do know what it’s like to carry a weight.” Jesse’s lips twisted without his permission. “It’s exhausting, eatin’ up everything you are.”
“And everything you could be.” Matt closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Just—give me a minute.”
Jesse would give him however long he needed.
Because Matt wasn’t running, like he had last night.
He wasn’t shutting Jesse out, even if he hadn’t told him what was going on.
Whatever it was, it had to be something terrible to leave a mark like this on a man like Matt Urban.
And then, Jesse remembered their earlier conversation, about people dying.
Seemed like maybe Matt had been carrying a soul-crushing weight for a long time.
Jesse sat quietly, and Matt didn’t tell him to leave.
That shouldn’t have mattered so much. But it did.
MATT
He breathed, deep and slow. It was all he could do. Lindsey had broken something open inside him, and the shards were still rearranging themselves back into something—not whole. He’d never be whole again, not the way he had been. But something that no longer sliced him every time he breathed.
Of them all, Lindsey had the most reason to hate him, to blame him for ruining her life. But the only people to blame, she’d said, were those who’d attacked them. There’d been no lie in her voice. And Lindsey always said what she meant.
She’d said she missed him, too. She was careful to say nothing that could be interpreted as blaming Weaver for the fact he’d left, but she was sorry he’d gone.
Matt had been reeling when he ended the call. The guilt that had threatened to crush him wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t the only truth anymore. And then Jesse had come to him, refusing to let Matt drive him away.
He finally looked over at Jesse, whose blue eyes were warm and soft.
Matt scrubbed his hand down his face. “Come to bed with me?”
Jesse blinked, and his lips parted, as if he were waiting for Matt to say something more. Something suggestive, with more heat.
But Matt didn’t want that, not tonight. He wanted not to be alone, but more than that—he wanted to be with Jesse.
Jesse untangled himself from the pretzel he’d twisted himself into and got to his feet. And it was like he knew that what Matt needed was simply his quiet presence. He headed for the door, and looked back, his fingers around the handle.
“You comin’?” he asked.
The last of the tension in Matt eased. Yeah, he was.