27. Matthias
27
MATTHIAS
AGE EIGHTEEN
This summer is the start of my future. A future with Wyatt at my side. Not quite in the way I’d like him to be. Katie may be a figure of the past, but she was quickly replaced by Megan. Then Chloe. Then another girl whose name I can’t remember.
But I can live with that. Wy may never look at me how I look at him, but I don’t care.
All I care about is keeping him at my side. Living together, waking up and seeing him in the kitchen we’ll share. All of it. I’m looking forward to all of it.
With high school over, we’re both headed to Yale. Father was pissed when he discovered I hadn’t even applied to his alma mater, but by the time he found out about it, it was too late for him to interfere.
The verbal beating he gave me had been worth it, I endured it with straight shoulders and a blank face. He doesn’t use his fists these days. Not now that I’ve gotten big enough to hit him back.
It hasn’t happened yet, but I suspect it’s only a matter of time.
I think he believes that too.
He has no idea why I changed my college plans. Wyatt is my secret, one I’ve closely guarded.
And that’s the way it’s going to stay. Father has managed to taint everything in my life. But not this. I won’t let him ruin what I have with Wy. He’s my best friend. My rock. The reason I get up in the morning and remind myself to breathe.
Now, I’ll get to see him all the time. No longer will I be crossing off the days on a calendar, wishing for summer break. No more late-into-the-night phone calls.
We won’t need them. We’ll be together.
Deep down, I suspect this isn’t going to be as wonderful as I think it is. Not in terms of protecting my heart. But I gave up trying to fight my feelings for Wy a long time ago.
There’s no point. I can no more stop breathing than I can stop being in love with him.
I just got back from spending the day with him and I don’t want to shower, selfishly wanting to keep the casual touches he gave me on my skin just a little longer. But given we’d been swimming in the lake, it’s kind of a necessity. The last thing I want is to set Father off. I spend my days trying to slip past his notice.
It’s the only way to survive.
The only times I purposefully attract his notice is when his anger falls on Dalton or Harley. I keep them safe as much as I can, trying to shield them from his temper.
I’m not always successful, but I try. Better me than them. They’re young, they don’t need his shit in their lives. I’m used to it. I can take it.
Stepping out of the shower into my massive bedroom, I look around the space through someone else’s eyes. It’s honestly ridiculous. I haven’t seen Wy’s trailer up close, but I’m sure you could fit it in here. Every time I think about it, I feel embarrassed. I have so much, and Wy has so little.
I fucking hate it. I’d give him everything in my bank account if I thought he’d take it.
At least at college, I’ll be able to help him out more without him realizing. We’re going to rent somewhere together…at least, that’s what Wy thinks. In reality, I’m using my trust fund that I’ve just come into to buy a place. Then I’ll charge Wy a nominal amount for rent, hoping he’ll never question it.
I’ll keep the fridge and cupboards stocked so he never has to miss a meal again. When I haven’t been with Wy this summer, I’ve been in the kitchen with our chef. She’s been teaching me how to cook for two. That way, I can claim I’ve always made too much and then guilt Wy into eating half so it doesn’t go to waste.
All of this is probably crossing a line, but I don’t give a fuck. Not if it keeps a roof over Wy’s head and food in his belly. I’m sick of seeing him at the start of summer and immediately noticing how much weight he’s lost. I make sure he packs it back on in the months I spend with him, turning up with food every day and giving him puppy eyes until he eats it.
He always does. I don’t think he can say no to me any more than I can to him.
He’s working now at the local burger joint, but his money goes to buying food and essentials for Jackson. Despite his initial misgivings about having a sibling, Wyatt has taken to caring for Jackson like he’s his own.
Sometimes I want to scream at him that it’s not his responsibility. That he should put himself first for once.
But he won’t. That’s not the kind of man he’s growing into. He’s selfless, beautiful, perfect inside and out.
That’s what’s made me vow to always put him first. If he won’t look after himself, then I’ll do it for him.
I can’t think of a greater purpose for my life.
I whistle as I roughly towel my hair, feeling slightly elated. This summer is the start of everything.
And I can’t fucking wait.
I beeline over to where I left my phone to charge. I’m not expecting any messages from Wy. He has a morning shift tomorrow so he was planning on an early night. I can’t help but check though. It’s an obsession. I never want to miss a moment with him.
As my gaze lands on the empty nightstand, I freeze, the charging cable hanging loose.
My phone’s not there.
Huh. Trepidation starts to unwind in my gut but I tamp it down. Maybe I just left it in the bathroom. Or in the pocket of my jeans.
A quick check confirms it’s not there. I frantically search the rest of my room but it’s nowhere to be found.
Please let it be Dalton or Harley who took it.
But then there’s a rap on my door and the voice I hate so much rumbles through. “Matthias. My office. Now.”
Everything in me turns to ice. His footsteps are already pounding away, but they continue thundering in my ears.
No. That’s my heartbeat. I can’t breathe. Oh fuck.
Grabbing a pair of sweats, I shove my legs into them hastily. I’m sure it’s fine. There’s nothing incriminating on your phone.
Except every conversation I’ve had with Wyatt.
Thousands of photos.
Videos.
You’re just friends, I tell myself. Father’s a homophobic prick, but he can’t stop you from being friends with Wyatt.
Why can’t I make myself believe that?
I remind myself that I’m an adult now as I walk into his office. An adult with his own trust fund and who’s bigger than the man on the other side of the desk.
Even if I don’t feel like it. Something about him always makes my insides shrivel. I try to hide it, but my knees are shaking.
Father is sitting in his leather chair, but it still feels like he’s towering over me. He has that power, to look down his nose at you despite being shorter.
My eyes flick to the phone sitting in front of him.
I stop in front of the desk, my mind refusing to let me sit. No, I’ll stand for this.
“Why do you have my phone?” I ask, hating that my voice cracks.
“I’ll be asking the questions here, Matthias.” He taps the screen, lighting it up. My heart sinks at the background. It’s a close-up photo of Wy laughing, a dot of ice cream on the end of his nose. I snapped it last summer and it’s been my favorite ever since.
“I wondered why you’ve been so secretive about your phone,” Father muses. “At first, I put it down to usual teen nonsense. That was until I glimpsed this photo a few days ago.”
He spins the phone so it’s facing me. “Want to tell me who this is?”
I grit my teeth and stay silent. Fuck. Him. I’m not telling him a single thing about Wy. He’s mine. I’m not letting this life taint him.
Father’s lips quirk. It almost looks like amusement, but I don’t think he’s ever been amused in his entire life. At least, not since Mom died. “Fine. Let’s do it the hard way. Wyatt Cameron Malone. Eighteen years old, birthday is the twenty-fifth of January. Address is 4132 North West Road,” his lips curl, “which I believe is a trailer park of all places.”
Fury wars with fear inside me. How dare he look into Wyatt. And how fucking dare he judge him.
“The boy lives with his mother, Sadie Marie Malone, and his four-year-old brother, Jackson Liam Malone. His father, one Brian Mark Malone, lives there sporadically. Wyatt is the only one who works. He is contracted for fifteen hours a week at Burger Shack, and picks up any overtime offered.”
He’s not reading this from anywhere, meaning he’s memorized it. Fucker. What’s his endgame here?
“The boy appears to not lack intelligence. Graduated top of his class and has a full ride to Yale.” Father cocks his head sardonically. “Suddenly your insistence to attend there over Duke makes more sense.”
That drags a response from me. “I’m allowed to have friends, am I not?”
There’s a gleam in Father’s eye that has me shifting on my feet. “Friends, yes. Boyfriends, absolutely not.”
My hands ball into fists. There it is. I knew it, but that’s a fight for another time. I’ve never come out to my father, but I suspect he knows all the same. I’m not even the only one of my brothers who’s not straight. Cade came out a couple of years ago.
I’m just the only one currently living under his roof—the only one he can attempt to influence into his own societal mold of the perfect Buckingham man.
“Wyatt is my friend ,” I say. “Nothing more.”
Father sits back in his seat and smirks. “But you’d like it to be more, yes? You care for this boy as more than a friend.”
It’s not a question, but the words are on the tip of my tongue to deny it anyway. They won’t come though.
I can’t say it. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t feel the same way, I can’t pretend he’s not important to me.
“I see,” Father says eventually. “What I found on your phone is clear evidence that what I’m saying is true. At least you recognize when you’ve lost an argument before it starts. We’ll make a fine lawyer of you yet.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t even want to be a lawyer. I’m only following my father’s chosen career path for me because it’s what Wyatt wants to do. If it means being at his side as much as possible, I’ll do whatever it takes.
“Your association with this boy is at an end.” My head snaps up in horror as my father continues. “You will go to Duke as previously agreed, and you’ll never contact him again.”
“Why do you care? What the fuck does it matter to you?”
Father gets to his feet, leaning on his knuckles as he glares at me. “It matters because you are a Buckingham. I won’t have you following the same depraved path as Cade.”
My vision turns red. “So you’re saying that falling in love with someone is depraved? Just because they are a man?”
“He’s not just a man,” Father counters hotly. “He’s trailer trash. Uncouth. His parents are both addicts. If you think for a second that I’ll let them tarnish the Buckingham name then you truly have taken leave of your senses.”
I give a disbelieving laugh. “You seem to be forgetting that I’m an adult now. You can’t tell me what to do.”
The smile he delivers is pure evil. “Matthias, you seem to be forgetting who you’re dealing with. You don’t have a choice in this matter. I’ve already set a plan into motion to ensure this is dealt with.”
All the blood drains from my face. “What have you done?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, sitting back down. I go to snatch my phone, but he’s too quick. It’s gone and inside a drawer in a flash. “I’ll be keeping hold of this.”
I’m over the desk and hauling my father up by his collar. Spittle flies from my mouth as I roar at him. “What have you done ?”
Cool steel presses against my neck, and I freeze.
“Careful, boy.” There’s no sentiment in my father’s eyes, just cold calculation. “Walk any further down this path and I won’t just ruin Wyatt’s life, I’ll end it.”
I release him instantly, recoiling in horror as I stare at him. Who is this man? I don’t recognize him, but I don’t doubt what he says.
He will have Wyatt killed.
Or, judging by the casual way he returns the dagger to a hidden sheath at his waist, just do it himself. “You have a lot to learn, Matthias. Let this be lesson number one—the Buckinghams rule St. Dismas, but I rule the Buckinghams.”
A yawning pit opens under me, but I don’t let it drag me in. I can’t. Not until I know Wyatt is okay.
What am I even doing here, arguing with my father? He said whatever is done has already started…
With that, I spin on my heels.
And I’m running.
It usually takes thirty minutes to get to Wyatt’s trailer.
Tonight it takes me twelve.
I’ve never knocked on the door of the trailer before. But I do now. I hammer my fists against it, roaring Wyatt’s name until a light flickers on inside.
“What the fuck d’ya want?” Wyatt’s dad blinks blearily through the door at me, lifting his stained tank top and scratching at his emaciated belly. “Fuck you think you’re doing, banging on the door like that?”
“Where’s Wyatt?” I say, desperately trying to peek around him. “Wyatt? Wy ?”
A hand shoves me back several paces. His dad gives me a semi-toothless leer. “He’s not ’ere. Went running out a half-hour ago. You’ll fuck off too if you know what’s good for you.”
The door slams in my face and I tug at my hair. “Fuck. Fuck. ”
What has my dad done? And where the fuck is Wyatt?
Terror grips me so hard that I fight the urge to vomit. I don’t have time. I need to find him, and I need to find him now.
I take off running again, this time into the woods. My muscles are protesting, my lungs screaming for me to slow. But I just push harder. Faster. I have to find him.
I have to find my Wyatt.
Time passes but I have no idea how much. I keep running, searching for anything. I check everywhere we usually spend time. The lake. The meadow under the stars. Even the abandoned shelter. I search for the tiniest glimpse of where he might be.
When it comes, it’s not from the direction I’m expecting.
In the distance, I can see flashing red lights. Police lights. They’re in a parking lot up ahead, one that backs onto the main street.
My stomach drops.
No. No. No.
I bolt toward the lot, arriving just in time to see the final car pulling out.
Wyatt’s in the back, head between his hands.
I chase after the cars, waving and hollering, but they don’t stop. They don’t turn back. Neither does he. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t even turn my way.
I run and run until they’re nothing more than specks in the distance. Disappearing. Just like I know he will too.
The realization of it has me falling to my knees.
It’s over.
My father will make sure of it.
* * *
“You have to let me see him.”
The overweight cop behind the desk sighs. “Kid, I ain’t gotta do shit. You’re not his family. You’re not his lawyer. Now fuck off back home before I throw you in a cell too.”
That’s not a bad idea. At least that way I’ll be with Wyatt.
The cop narrows his beady eyes. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll be housed in a cell on the opposite side of the jail as your little friend.”
My shoulders slump. “He doesn’t have any family,” I lie between my teeth. Although, is it a lie if his parents don’t give a fuck about where Wy is right now? “Only me. Please. Just tell me what he’s been charged with.”
“Nope.” The cop clicks around on the computer. “Sorry, kid. Best you get home now.”
I grit my teeth, hating what I’m about to do. Cade, Dalton, and Harley might have no issue throwing around our family name to get their way, but I’ve never done it. Just the thought brings a sour taste into my mouth.
But if it might help Wyatt, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes.
“If you don’t assist me with this, I’ll be forced to call my father.”
The cop gives a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s your father?”
“Buckingham,” I grind out. “Phillip Buckingham.”
If I wasn’t so stressed about Wyatt, it might be comical how fast the cop pales. “You’re a Buckingham?”
The name grates, just as it always does. It means nothing other than tying me to the monster who’s caused all of this. “Yes. Now can I see Wyatt?”
The cop bobs back and forth in his chair a moment before standing. “Just a moment, please.”
It’s the most courteous he’s been since I stepped in here and I hate it. I hate that the fucking sound of my father’s name has people behaving differently.
He returns after a few minutes, face still pale but grimly set.
“Well,” I demand when he doesn’t speak. “Can I see him now?”
“No,” he says curtly. “I called your father. He’s given us explicit instructions to not allow you access to the delinquent.”
Delinquent. That’s Father’s word, not the cop’s.
“You called him?”
“What, you think I was just going to take your word for it?” the cop asks mockingly, before seeming to remember who he’s speaking to. The family I belong to. “Anyway, nothing to worry about. He’s sending a car for you now to take you home. Can I get you a coffee in the meantime?”
I don’t answer him. I’m already striding for the exit, ignoring his shouts behind me. He curses as he struggles to get the gate beside his desk unlocked.
But he’s wasting his time. I’m already gone. My legs carry me into the night before he can catch up to me. I don’t stop moving until my knees force me to, my lungs burning with the effort of tugging in breath after breath.
I collapse, my stomach emptying itself onto the street. I heave until there’s nothing left, falling back on my heels and turning my face to the sky.
What trumped-up charges has Father had Wyatt arrested on? Will he go to prison? That can’t happen. We have plans. We’re going to college…
It hits me then—Wyatt’s dreams of becoming a lawyer.
He can’t do that if he has a criminal record.
No. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. We’re on the cusp of our future, of finally breaking free of the constraints that have held us, as different as diamonds and rope, but constraints all the same.
It’s supposed to be our time.
Wyatt is supposed to be safe at home right now. Sleeping in his bed, dreaming of the day in a few months’ time when he’ll finally be free. Free to live the life he’s always dreamed of.
And it’s being taken away.
Because of me.
Because I dared to love him.
This is all my fault.
Wyatt has done nothing to deserve this. Nothing.
It’s. All. My. Fault.
I roar my frustration at the heavens, spit flying from my mouth, my voice cracking from the intensity of it. Tears leak down my cheeks as I fist my palms against my eyes. When I pull them away, in the periphery of my vision, I see a bird take flight.
Not just any bird. A raven. My family crest.
My gaze follows it as it swoops from the tree to land on the crumbling tower of the old church of St. Dismas.
A church that’s very famous in this town. Not for any religious reason. No, what this particular church symbolizes is very different. It’s a sanctuary for the desperate, a place for fools to bargain.
I can almost hear Wyatt’s voice echoing in my ears, repeating what he’d said the day of the storm. “ A group of people making wishes come true for a price? Please.”
At the time, I’d agreed with him. It was a myth. A fairy tale. A stupid decision to ask for something without knowing the cost upfront.
But exactly as I’d known back then, I know now that I’ll do it for him.
I’ll do anything to save Wyatt. The Firm, if they’re real, can ask me for anything and I’ll gladly pay it.
Even if my own life is the cost. I don’t care. I don’t want to be alive knowing I’ve cost Wyatt his dreams, his future.
I stumble to my feet, limping into the churchyard. I ignore the graves as I hurry past, heading straight for the eastern wall. It’s strange, everyone says The Firm is a myth, but how to contact them is common knowledge. That has to be a good sign, right? People don’t give specific instructions on how to reach those who don’t exist.
I count carefully, doing it twice to make sure it’s the right brick. Seventh from the bottom, sixteenth from the left.
It comes loose in my hand easily and I freeze. Shit. I don’t have anything to write with.
I peer into the hole, half afraid I’ll see someone staring back at me. There’s no one, but there is a piece of paper and a pencil.
Grabbing it, I crouch down and lean against the brick I pulled from the wall. Thankful for the clear night, I jot my request by the light of the moon.
I want any charges against Wyatt Malone dropped and wiped from his record. I want him to go to Yale on a full scholarship.
I think hard, trying to cover any other bullshit my father might pull when he finds his plans have failed.
What if he manages to find a way to keep us apart?
I have to make sure Wyatt is protected in that case.
I don’t want any harm to come to Wyatt. I want him to have enough money to live comfortably at college. This should be given as part of his scholarship and he’s not to know why he has extra funds.
I exhale slowly, rereading the note carefully. I don’t worry about if what I’m asking for is too much.
Nothing is too much for Wyatt. I would go to the ends of the Earth for him.
Anything for him.
With trembling hands, I put the note carefully inside before replacing the brick.
Now all I can do is hope for a miracle. To hope Wyatt is wrong.
That The Firm is real.
And they can save him.