5. Wyatt
5
WYATT
The whole way home, I wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to explain all of this to Jackson. I can’t tell him about The Firm, he’ll kill me. And I get it—if I found out he asked them for something, I’d be beyond pissed.
No one should have to sink that low.
But I’ve done this for him. To help give him the life he deserves.
Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be enough to save me from his fury if he learns the truth.
I rehearse what I’m going to say as I walk up the stairs to the apartment. Jackson, you’ve qualified for a rehab program we can afford—isn’t that great? Oh, and I’m getting married to a dude and we’ll both be moving in with him.
Yeah. I can’t see any of that going down without Jackson having several questions.
Maybe I don’t have to tell him any of that. I mean, the rehab stuff, obviously. That’s easier to lie about than the other stuff though. I’ll just let him go off for treatment, and then break the news to him while he’s there. I can start with maybe running into Matthias somewhere. He knows we share a past. Not the details, but that we were friends.
Once.
Perhaps I can gradually sell it to Jackson. He’s going to be in rehab for three months. That’s a more realistic time frame to sell a whirlwind romance. It’s not like I’ve been into men before…I’m still not. But hopefully Jackson will buy it if I’m convincing enough.
You’re going to have to learn to be convincing—remember? Matthias expects you to be a loving and doting husband.
Fuck.
I’ll figure it out. It’s not like he’s asking me to do it in private.
Except for sharing his bed.
The less I think about that the better.
My plans fall by the wayside as I step onto our floor and notice our door is wide open. Alarm spikes suddenly. “Jackson? You okay?”
“Yeah.” All he says is that one word, and I know he’s pissed.
As I step into the apartment, I see why. “What the fuck?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you,” Jackson says grimly from the sofa. He gestures at the countless packing boxes covering every surface, along with various other packing paraphernalia. “Wanna explain what the fuck that is?”
I follow his finger in the direction he’s pointing. “Is that a new wheelchair?”
“Apparently so,” Jackson crosses his arms over his chest. “I think you need to explain what’s going on because, last time I checked, we can’t afford ramen, let alone a top-of-the-line wheelchair.”
“Fuck.” I drop into the chair. “I’m not even sure where it came from.”
That’s not a lie. Was this the work of The Firm? Or Matthias?
My phone vibrates with a text message, clearing up at least part of it.
Unknown
Let me know if you need more packing supplies.
My temper hits flashpoint immediately as I type a reply.
Wyatt
Are you fucking kidding me? There’s enough stuff to pack up a six bedroom house.
There’s a long pause without a response. I use the time to save his contact in my phone as Fuckface . I must’ve had his number once upon a time, but I deleted it once my life went to shit.
Fuckface
I’ve been inside your home before, your old one at least. You have a lot of stuff.
Had. Past tense. Well, if Matthias doesn’t know the lows I’ve stooped to, I’m not about to enlighten him. He must have some idea, given the state I turned up in today. Using The Firm obviously isn’t enough to imply a total collapse of one’s life, given that Matthias was using them. Unlike me, he didn’t look worse for wear.
No, the fucker was just as put-together as he always was.
I’m about to put my phone away to give Jackson my full attention, but another message comes through before I can do so.
Fuckface
Another delivery is arriving in approximately one minute.
“Fucking interfering fucker,” I curse.
Jackson gives me a pointed look. “And you tell me off for swearing.”
“This is warranted,” I say, getting to my feet as someone knocks at the door. A delivery guy is there, hands laden with bags. My stomach rumbles as the scent hits me. Spice, coconut, pork. Saliva fills my mouth but I swallow it down.
I won’t eat this. I won’t.
I’ll flush it down the toilet with glee.
“Oh my god,” Jackson groans from behind me as I rummage in my pocket for a tip. “Is that Thai food?”
“Sorry,” I’m blushing as I pull out a handful of coins. “Umm…”
“No, sir.” The guy takes a few steps back, shaking his head. “Mr. Buckingham sorted everything. Please just enjoy.”
He’s gone before I can say anything else.
Mr. Buckingham. Just the name has my teeth on edge.
Oh my god, is he going to expect me to take his name?
I kick the door closed with a scowl. Of course he fucking is. I don’t know a lot about the adult Matthias, but I doubt he’s changed that much. He will absolutely expect me to take his name. To wear his ring.
To sleep in his bed.
“Okay, now I know something is going on,” Jackson says. “We haven’t had Thai food since…”
Since before the accident. Even then, Jackson spent more time at my place than at our parents’, much to Jen’s chagrin. Thai food was what we’d order, the spicier the better. That Matthias had coincidentally chosen it for tonight didn’t get him a place in my good books.
“It is,” I say curtly. “Let me plate it up, then I’ll tell you everything.”
I was going to have to. This was too big of a lie to conceal from Jackson. He’s too smart to fall for my bullshit. And now that he’s seen the evidence, there’s no hiding it from him.
Disappearing around the corner, I pull out my phone.
Wyatt
Why the fuck are you sending us food?
Fuckface
You need to eat, Wy.
Wyatt
Something I’ve managed very well without your interference.
Fuckface
Really? Might want to tell your ribs that. I could count them through your shirt earlier.
I grip the phone so hard it makes an ominous cracking noise.
Wyatt
My health and well-being are not your responsibility. Kindly butt the fuck out.
Matthias’s response flashes up so fast it’s like he knew exactly what I was going to say.
Fuckface
That’s where you’re wrong, Wy. Everything about you is now my concern.
And it’ll continue to be the whole time you’re mine.
Mine. A sour taste fills my mouth as the edges of my vision turn red.
Wyatt
I’ll never be yours. Ever.
Fuckface
Now, now. We both know that’s not true.
I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow.
Where you’ll sign your life over to me.
Making you mine.
My hands are shaking from the fury rolling through me, but I type out the response nonetheless.
Wyatt
For one year.
There’s a pause.
Fuckface
We’ll see.
* * *
A year ago, I expected to be married. But I didn’t think Matthias Buckingham would be the one meeting me at the end of the aisle. If you could call it an aisle. We’re in a courtroom in downtown St. Dismas; a young judge is here to oversee the vows and watch us sign the license.
There’s no fanfare. No family. Even the witnesses aren’t familiar.
Well, one of them is. Mr. Flanders is in the back row, watching us with those beady little eyes. No doubt making sure I follow through with what The Firm asked.
As if I wouldn’t. I’m not that stupid. Besides, I’m not going to let Matthias, of all people, scare me away. I can be married to the fucker for an entire year.
Without killing him.
I’m sure I can do it.
Opening up to Jackson last night had been easier than I’d thought. Not his reaction, that’d been just as bad as I expected. He called me every name under the sun, surprising me with some of the language he knew. It was only when I turned it around, asking if he’d do it for me, that he stopped.
Then he switched to trying to think of a way out for me.
But, at the end of it, he knew just as I did—I have to do this.
This is what happens when you go to The Firm. That’s why it’s the reserve of the desperate or greedy.
Jackson swore to keep my secret. Not that he has anyone to tell. His friends disappeared as fast as mine did when his accident happened and our lives tumbled down the drain.
Fuckers.
It was only when I was getting ready this morning that I realized I had nothing to wear. Part of me was tempted to just go in my sweats. To show Matthias what I really think about this so-called marriage.
But my ego wouldn’t let me. It would only let Matthias know how much he’s gotten to me.
A knock on my door solved that problem. Along with the movers, there was another delivery man. This one had a suit bag over his arm.
Matthias must’ve suspected I might try to show him up and decided to step in before I could.
I hate how the navy blue suit fits. How perfectly it hugs my withered chest and skinny biceps. How it flatters me, even though I’m a shadow of my former self.
He’s dressed as sharply as I am, his suit all black. I pretend not to notice. I don’t let myself even acknowledge him when I join him at the altar.
I don’t meet his eyes, but he looks at me intently, slipping that ring on my finger with a whispered promise to always protect me.
A promise he made to me once, long ago, and broke.
I barely hear his words, just look at the silver ring that sits against me like a weight, pulling me under. A physical representation of the freedom I’m giving up.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
Matthias’s hand appears in my line of vision and a ring is held up beside me. I grasp it with nervous fingers, fumbling it before slipping it on him. Our skin brushes and I feel a tingle move through me. It spreads across my palm and up my arm, zinging straight to my heart.
I repeat the words the judge says, not taking in a single one of them in. It’s like there’s a different Wyatt speaking, who’s exchanging binding vows.
It’s not me. It can’t be.
I must be dying , I think as I stare down at our matching bands.
I am dying. I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
My chest constricts and my lungs refuse to pull in air. Tingling starts in my hands as the edges of my vision begin to darken. I’m going to pass out. I need to lie down. Someone is speaking, but I can’t hear them.
I can’t hear them.
Oh god, why is it so hot in here? I yank at my tie, but it doesn’t shift. I need it to. It’s strangling me. Fuck, why can’t I breathe ?
Hands touch my shoulders and I’m pulled into a strong chest. It grounds me somewhat, but not enough. My fingers clutch the soft fabric instinctively, searching for an anchor.
Matthias .
“Breathe,” he whispers. “Listen to my voice. Breathe. In. Out.”
He inhales deeply, and I copy him. I can’t do anything but focus on the rise and fall of his chest. The arms holding me steady.
I have to pull myself together. I don’t want him to see me fall apart. But he already has. He knows I’m struggling, that this is affecting me more than I care to admit.
My vision grows less hazy with each prompted breath I pull in, and a few minutes later, I’m able to push away from him and stand on my own.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice wavering slightly. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m fine.”
Matthias lets me go, eyeing me warily. His fingers slide from my shoulders to drop near his sides. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to fucking look.
Husband.
I can’t believe I’m married to him.
“We need to sign the paperwork,” he says quietly, and I close my eyes. Right, paperwork. That’s all this is. Just a marriage on paper, nothing more.
If I can focus on that, maybe I’ll be able to hold it together.
My eyelids peel open and I follow Matthias to a small desk, a pen placed in my hands. And then we sign it, sealing my fate. A camera clicks, startling me. I wonder how I look in this moment. Like a deer caught in headlights, knowing death is coming for him.
This isn’t death. It’s not the worst fate The Firm could’ve dealt me. I need to remember that.
The judge claps and my heart thunders in my ears as she announces that we can kiss.
I don’t want to fucking kiss him.
I don’t want it.
Matthias steps up to me, his hands finding mine. They’re cool, strong, so assured.
“Remember,” he begins, forcing my gaze up to his with that word. “I need to have a marriage where my husband is happy.”
But I’m not happy , I think as his hand moves up to my cheek, stroking gently. Those tingles are back, spreading down my neck to my chest once more, making my heart beat frantically.
I know I’m blushing as his hand wraps around the back of my head and he pulls me closer. So close that his lips brush against mine and I let out a small breathy moan. A moan of discontent, of anger. His lips push against mine, a little more insistent and then they’re gone. He pulls away and his hands fall from me.
I’m left standing there, my eyes still closed, unable to open them for fear of what this means. The reality of it.
Married. To Matthias.
But eventually I need to open them and face my reality.
I’m doing this for Jackson.
I repeat this to myself. A reminder that as soon as I step out of this small courtroom, I can head home and take him to rehab. It’ll be worth it. All of it will be worth it for this, to see my brother heal. For him to get better.
I can do a year of this.
I can do anything. I won’t fall apart.
Matthias moves toward me, his hand falling on my lower back, and I stiffen, not telling him off like I normally would because he’s right. We need to pretend we have a happy marriage. I need to fulfill my end of the bargain. So I don’t step away, I just let him guide me out of the room and into the lobby. People are milling about, all focused on themselves, not realizing that my life has completely changed.
No one cares about this. About me.
Not even my husband. I’m just a means to an end.
He’s the same to you.
I know that. I do. It doesn’t matter anyway. All that matters is Jackson and his recovery.
“I have to get Jackson to the rehab facility by two for orientation.”
Matthias nods and leads me out of the building. It’s raining again and I forgot my umbrella. When I left this morning, I didn’t tell Jackson where I was going. He knows about the marriage, but not that it was happening so soon. I didn’t want him to know or worry. I’ll tell him later. I want him to focus on himself. Not on me.
Matthias pulls an umbrella out and opens it, pulling me into him so I don’t get wet. I don’t care if I show up at the apartment soaking wet, I just want to get there.
“Wait,” I say suddenly. “Where are you going?”
He cocks his head to the side. “With you, of course. You said Jackson has to be at the rehab facility at two.”
“I said I have to get him there,” I narrow my eyes, unsure of what his play is. “I don’t need you to come with us, Matthias. More than that, I don’t want you to.”
He steps closer, crowding me backward. I plant my feet, refusing to let him see any weakness. “You almost fainted back there, Wy. I’m not letting you out of my sight just yet. Besides, I’m not sure that claptrap you call a car can even make the drive.”
How does he know what I drive? Has he been spying on me? “It’ll be fine.”
“No.” A gleaming town car pulls up at the curb behind Matthias, a driver stepping out. “That vehicle is not safe for either you or Jackson. You’ll travel with me.”
The thought of being in the same car as him for the four-hour round trip makes me want to vomit. Better get used to it. You’ll be living in the same house as him for the next year. We’ll be so fucking close.
“I don’t want to go with you.”
“And I don’t care,” Matthias growls, attempting to tower over me. “You’ll get in that car, Wyatt, or I’ll put you in there myself. You’re my husband now. I’ll make sure you’re safe, whether you like it or not.”
I grind my teeth together, seriously debating if I could fight him off if he follows through on his threat. The old me wouldn’t have had an issue. I’m the same height as Matthias, but not the same build. Not any longer.
“Fine,” I snarl, storming past him to the waiting car. “But not because you told me to. Because I want to.”
Matthias’s low chuckle skitters over my skin as he joins me. “Keep telling yourself that, husband.”