25. Wyatt
25
WYATT
I don’t bring up my revelation from the other night, but something seems to change between us nonetheless. Our touches become more frequent, our kisses more desperate. I catch Matthias watching me longingly on more than one occasion.
I hate to think how often he catches me doing the same.
Neither of us is saying it, but I think we both know we’ve stepped over some invisible line. I’m not even sure when we crossed it. Was it at the gala? The honeymoon? Or was it at game night, when Matt promised me I’d always be a part of his family?
This isn’t fake. Not anymore. But the unspoken past hangs between us, clogging our lungs until we choke.
We can’t move forward until we look back. I wait for him to bring it up. For me to bring it up.
I’m too much of a fucking coward though. Too selfish to rock the fragile life we’ve built.
But the real world isn’t content to wait until I’m ready.
It’s a Friday night. Matt and I are lying on the sofa, watching a movie—some action flick that’s more CGI than plot, but that suits us fine. Neither of us is really paying attention. Instead, we’re chatting or just touching each other. Not with the intent of sex. Well, not yet at least.
Just because we can.
I can run my hand down Matt’s chest, toying idly with his happy trail, feeling his cock perk up with each touch. He can tug at the hairs at the base of my skull before nuzzling my Adam’s apple, listening to the soft groans I give him.
We’re operating like we think someone’s about to snatch us apart. In reality, it’s the truth that’s going to do that. That’s why we avoid it, and talk about anything and everything else. The number of random things I’ve told him, trying like hell to avoid the elephant in the room.
Matt’s phone rings on the coffee table and he groans. “Fuck off.”
“Don’t answer it,” I say, tugging his ear lobe between my teeth. “Ignore them.”
The ringing stops, then within a second, starts again. Matt sighs. “Sorry. Shit. If it’s one of my brothers, they’ll keep calling until I pick up.”
I grumble but pull myself into a sitting position so he can get to his phone.
“I’ll keep it quick,” he promises me with a wink. He better. Though we hadn’t been working up to anything sexual, I’m still half-hard. My cock is basically Pavlov’s dog where Matthias is concerned. I just need to be near him and it’s ready.
I’m obsessed with him.
He glances down at my lap, his grin growing even as he answers the phone. “Wylder. What’s up?”
All joviality leeches from Matt’s face as he listens to his brother. It’s replaced by something darker, a cloud I haven’t seen there in a long time.
“No. I’m not supposed to be on the…” he turns from me and lowers his voice, “…schedule right now.”
Schedule? What schedule?
He gets up and marches for the door, presumably so I can’t overhear him. But like the puppet I am, I follow him.
He’s at the end of the hall, staring out the window into the pitch-dark garden. “I don’t give a fuck. Send Cade. This is more his skill set anyway.”
Matthias is tense, practically vibrating. I don’t like it. It makes me want to snatch his phone away and tell Wylder to go fuck himself. Instead, I wrap my arms around him from behind, leaning my head on his shoulder, letting him know I’m here.
He doesn’t relax back into me like he usually does. “Yes, I’m fully aware I’m capable. But this isn’t the deal we made, damnit.”
Capable of what? And what deal is he talking about? Something at work?
“Fine,” he exhales sharply. “I’ll do it, but this is the last time until March. Got it?”
I stiffen. March is the month everything is supposed to end between us. It’s too much of a coincidence to not be connected.
He hangs up without another word. His head drops forward, hanging low.
“What’s going on?” I rub between Matt’s shoulder blades. “What does Wylder want?”
“Work,” he says hollowly, turning to face me. There’s none of the man I’ve come to…know. He’s different right now, cold and unfeeling. “I’ll be out for a while. Don’t wait up.”
He pushes past me, his legs eating up the ground as he strides into our room. I practically run after him as anxiety pulses through me. “What kind of work does the law firm need from you at 11 p.m. on a Friday night for fuck’s sake?”
“This isn’t for the law firm,” Matthias says tonelessly. “This is…”, he runs a hand through his hair, “…something else.”
He stops before a cupboard, one I realize I’ve never seen opened. One that I never thought to go through. It looks like he’s trying to smile, but it comes across as a grimace. “Why don’t you go and ask Jules to make you that cocoa you like? The one with the strawberry syrup. I think he’s still up.”
My eyes narrow. “I’m not a fucking child, Matthias. Don’t treat me like one.”
“I’m not, it’s just…” He blows out a breath and tugs at his hair in frustration. Usually this would have me softening, but not now. Not when I’m fucking panicking about whatever he’s trying to hide from me. “I need you to leave the room, Wy. Please.”
“No,” I grind out. “Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”
His phone vibrates in his hand and he glances down at the screen. “Fuck. I don’t have time for this. Please. Just leave.”
I plant my feet and square my shoulders. “No.”
Another message comes through to him. He mutters another curse under his breath. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
My eyes widen as he opens a hidden panel revealing a key code. What the fuck?
A muscle jumps in his jaw as he rapidly types in a code. He tries to hide it, but I see it anyway. I recognize it immediately. Zero-one-two-five.
My birthday.
There’s a quiet beep and the cupboard swings open. My heart falters as I glimpse what’s inside. “What the fuck?”
He ignores me as he pulls out one of the three guns and methodically loads it with bullets. Along with the guns, there are several passports and a large stack of cash.
I stare at it, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. Just who is Matthias? What exactly are the Buckinghams wrapped up in? Are they assassins or some shit? My mind whirls and then in a moment of pure insanity, I wonder if he works for The Firm.
No. That’s crazy and it can’t be true. Matthias is in debt to them just as much as I am. He told me. It’s a fact. He couldn’t work for them and be indebted to them—that’s not a thing. Right?
The gun safe snaps shut, and I swallow sharply, my hand shaking as I reach up to touch him. “Hey, please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
He shrugs me off. He can’t even look at me, so he misses the devastation I know is written on my face. “I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”
His cool lips brush my cheek. Shock at what I just witnessed stops me from following him. Stops me from calling after him. Stops me from running down the stairs and lying in front of his car so he can’t go do whatever he’s about to.
What the fuck is he involved in? Why did he never tell me? What is this fucking secret he’s been keeping from me?
I don’t know, don’t understand it. All I can do is just stand there, surrounded by the shattered remnants of the bubble we’ve been living in, trying like hell to make sense of it.
The illusion we’ve been hiding in was nice while it lasted, but it’s time to wake up.
It’s time to face what I’ve been avoiding all along.
It’s time to figure this shit out.
* * *
Matt is gone for four hours and twenty-seven minutes.
I mark them all out on the floor in the hall, pacing away the seconds, phone in one hand, sanity in the other.
I fucking hate that he’s left me here. He took a gun for fuck’s sake. The situation, whatever it was, was obviously dangerous.
And I can’t even go after him. I have no idea where he’s gone. I curse myself for freezing earlier. For not chasing after him.
He’s out there now, in danger. And I’m here like the proverbial fucking mob wife, anxiously awaiting his return.
Jules tries to speak to me once, offering to bring me some cocoa. I’m curt with him, too curt when he doesn’t offer me any explanations as to why my husband is out at night with weapons.
He leaves me alone after that.
When headlights finally shine through the front door, I almost collapse with relief. I’m out of the door and running toward the car before Matthias even turns the engine off. I don’t wait for him to get out before wrenching the door open. “Where the fuck have you been…?”
My voice trails off. When I find it again, there’s a tremble that wasn’t there before. I grow faint, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Please tell me that’s not your blood.”
Matthias doesn’t acknowledge me. I’m not sure he knows I’m here. He’s staring ahead woodenly. His hands are clean, knuckles white around the steering wheel.
That’s the only part of him that is. He must’ve worn gloves.
I step back, letting the familiar numbness take over. “Get out of the car.”
My command seems to unlock something in him. His movements are jerky as he gets out of the car and marches toward the house. I see the butt of his gun peeking out from under his waistband and my stomach flips.
I follow him inside, wondering what the fuck I should do now. As a lawyer, I know what the answer is supposed to be. I should call the police. Preserve the crime scene so a prosecution can be brought.
But this is Matthias. My Matt.
I’m not letting anything or anyone hurt him. I don’t even give a fuck if he’s the one in the wrong.
During law school, I was fascinated by the wives of criminals. How did they live with the knowledge of what their husbands did? Did they feel guilt? Shame? Fear?
Suddenly, I understand what I’ve been missing. Turns out, if you love the person, you’ll turn a blind eye to pretty much anything.
I freeze, one foot in mid-air as I process that thought.
Love.
I love Matthias.
Fuck.
Talk about the worst possible time to have a revelation.
By the time I get myself moving again, Matthias is gone. I take the stairs two at a time to find him in our room. He’s standing like a mannequin in the center, eyes fixed on nothing.
I circle him slowly. “Are you injured?”
He doesn’t answer. It’s like I’m not here. Well, fuck that.
“Matt,” I snap in his face until his gaze finally fixes on mine. “Are. You. Injured?”
“No,” his voice rasps, like he’s been shouting. Or perhaps not used it at all for a while. “You’re still here.”
I roll my eyes. “Where the fuck else did you expect me to be, huh? You picked up a gun and fucking left me here.”
His gaze slips away. “I did what I had to do.”
I grind my teeth together. I need answers, but ensuring Matt’s safety takes first priority. “Strip.”
His lips twitch, a ghost of a smirk that died far too early. “Don’t think this is really the time.”
I step into his space, pulling my lips back in a snarl. “Don’t fucking test me, Matt. Not tonight. Strip. Now.”
He does as I demand, passing over his clothes into my waiting hands. “Go and shower. Make sure you don’t leave a drop of blood behind.”
He rolls his eyes. It’s like he’s coming back to the man I know with every moment in my company. “Believe it or not, I do know what I’m doing.”
I look up at him coldly from where I’m kneeling in front of the fireplace. “Right now, I don’t even know who you are.”
He flinches, stepping back like I’ve punched him. “I deserve that.”
“Shower,” I repeat, turning my attention to the tiny flames. “Then we can talk.”
He leaves without another word. While he showers, I slowly feed each item of blood-stained clothing into the flames.
Now you’re an accessory to whatever crime he’s committed.
That thought doesn’t bother me as much as it should. What’s stressing me out more is what Matthias is doing and why.
Most importantly, why the fuck he’s hidden it from me.
When he emerges in a cloud of steam, I’m ready for him. The flames are burning merrily, taking all evidence up the chimney. My own hands have been scrubbed clean in one of the other bathrooms. I’m holding a glass of whiskey as I sit on the sofa. I toyed with the idea of not bringing Matt one, but I think it’s needed.
For both of us.
He doesn’t bother to dress, sitting on the sofa beside me in just his towel. “Where’s the gun?”
“In the bathroom,” he stares at the flames. “I’ll clean it and return it to the safe later.”
“Are you going to change the code?”
His eyes meet mine wearily. “Do I need to?”
I gulp down some whiskey, relishing the burn, letting it ground me. “I should say yes. That’s the normal thing to say, right?”
The corner of Matthias’s lip curls. “When has anything about us been normal?”
I grunt. “No. You don’t need to change it.”
I finish my whiskey and put my glass on the table. With nothing to do with my hands now, I pick at some lint on my pants. “What happened tonight?”
He takes a long drink. “I told you. I went to work.”
“Doing what?”
“My other job.” He finishes his whiskey and his glass joins mine. “I don’t have much say over my schedule. The others were supposed to be covering for me but I guess shit came up.”
“Why are they covering for you?”
“So I can spend time with you.” His fingers dance close to my arm but never quite land. I’m relieved. I’m not sure I can trust myself if he touches me now. “I wanted you to get to know me without all this other…bullshit getting in the way. And I managed for longer than I’d hoped.”
I give a dark chuckle. “One might argue that not telling me about the ‘bullshit’ means I don’t know the real you.”
“But you do.” He edges closer to me. “I swear. The man you’ve spent the past few months with, that’s me. I’ve kept a lot of secrets from you, but I haven’t hidden myself.”
I grit my teeth, forcing out the next question. The one that could break us. “Do you work for The Firm?”
“No,” Matthias says softly. “I don’t work for The Firm.”
A knot in my chest eases. “Then what are you doing? What exactly are the Buckinghams mixed up in?”
He winces. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why the fuck not?” Something in me snaps and I’m on my feet. My voice rises to a bellow as I tug my hair in frustration. “We’re husbands, right? We should tell each other everything .”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I recognize the lie in them. Tell each other everything? What a joke. I’ve lost count of all the things Matthias isn’t telling me.
“Pretend husbands,” he says hollowly. “As you keep reminding me.”
The pain is sharp and acute. I have to force the words out past the agony. “Is that why you won’t tell me?”
The silence is so long I begin to think he’ll never answer. “No. It’s because you’ve only just stopped looking at me like you hate me. If I tell you where I was tonight, what I was doing, it’ll return again.”
“You left with a gun and bullets and returned home covered in blood. Do you think I’m a fool?”
“No, I don’t.”
I huff and turn my gaze toward the fire, the one that destroyed the evidence of what he did, of what could have been.
“Tell me. Please.”
“I can’t. I can’t,” his voice is wobbly now, pleading, desperate. “Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me choose between this and you.”
I freeze for a moment and swallow, realization settling in. “It’s that bad?”
“Yes,” he says, meeting my gaze. “It’s that bad. And I’m selfish enough to want to pretend a little longer. Aren’t you?”
Am I?
Fuck, it seems I am. Because I cave, I let my questions slip into that fire and go up in smoke.
Maybe that makes me foolish. Naive. Oblivious. But right now, I don’t want to give this up. Give him up.
I can’t.