38. Xed
Chapter thirty-eight
G rease sizzles and pops in the pan, landing on my skin as I scoop pieces of bacon onto a plate. It’s late morning, nearly noon, and Matty’s still asleep. He lost a game yesterday and flew across the country for me, so he’s probably super burned out.
Cracking a few eggs into the pan, I watch the yolk bubble, letting my mind wander. He really shouldn’t have come. I wish he hadn’t. Shit feels so complicated.
Pearl dying means nothing to me. It’s been years since I last saw her anyway, but the ache of unresolved answers festers in my chest. All of the things I’ll never get to know now run through my head, like what part of the Philippines is my birth mother from? Who was my father? Was there ever a moment where she truly loved me, or was I just her meal ticket for collecting state checks?
How many fucking licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? The world may never know.
Feet shuffle on the carpet behind me as I’m dishing up the eggs, and I turn to see Matty standing behind me. His hair is disheveled, sticking up as he rubs his eyes, the sight so adorable that my heart twists painfully.
“Did you make the eggs sunny-side up?” He mumbles, blinking at me groggily, and I have to turn away before I throw myself at him. He’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts.
“Of course I did. You won’t eat them any other way.”
Since there’s no table, we settle into camping chairs, balancing our plates on our lap as we eat silently. He devours his breakfast, licking his plate clean like the massive football player he is, and I automatically hand over the rest of mine when he reaches for it. Like we’ve done nearly every morning for the last twelve years.
It’s so…familiar. Domestic. Makes me want things he’s clearly not ready to give.
Minutes go by before he realizes I’m staring, and he pauses with the fork half to his lips, sky-blue eyes widening. “Is there something on my face?”
“Yeah.” Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I touch his cheek, pretending to wipe some ketchup away. “Got it.”
“Thanks,” he grins, handing me our plates as he gazes around the room. “So…this place is, uh, nice?”
With a snort, I stand to take our dishes to the sink. “This place is a dump. Half the electrical outlets don’t work, and the hot water is practically non-existent.”
He’s quiet, but I sense him behind me, all of my nerve endings attuned to his movements. “Our townhome had hot water for days.”
“Yeah.”
His chest warms my back, and I close my eyes, my body going rigid despite the way I crave his touch. “And all the outlets worked.”
His lips brush my neck as his arms wrap around my waist, and I fight the urge to melt into him .
“What’s your point, Matthew?”
“You don’t have to stay here,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on the side of my neck. It sends goosebumps over my skin. When his hands slip beneath my shirt, rubbing along my abdomen, I give in, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.
“I like it here. Salem likes it here. It’s trash, but it’s our trash.”
Humming into my hair, his face brushes mine, our cheeks rubbing together gently. “You could come to Arizona with me. I have more than enough space.”
My stomach drops, breath catching as I try to move away, but he tightens his grip. “And how would we live? What would we be to each other? Just roommates?”
“I…” He trails off, freezing in place.
When almost a full minute goes by without an answer, I sigh heavily, pressing my palms into my eyes. “Matty, our friendship, it’s…this state we’re in isn’t healthy.”
His head tilts to the side. “Utah?”
“ No, asshole." I throw him an irritated glance over my shoulder. “The state of our relationship. Codependency, denial, lies. We’re almost as toxic as Huck and Taylor.”
Almost. Don’t even get me started on that shit show.
He inhales sharply against my back. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I know what I want. But you don’t. So maybe we shouldn’t—"
“ No .“ His arms tighten around me hard enough that my ribs scream in protest.
Wheezing, I shift around his hold to breathe, no stranger to the way he can’t control his strength. “You didn’t even let me finish. ”
“Because I don’t want to hear what you were about to say,” he says, voice shaking. “I want you, Ducky, like we used to be. In my life, by my side, raising Hannah.”
“What we used to be isn’t enough.” Turning my head to meet his gaze, my heart breaks when I see the tears on his cheeks. “I need more than that this time.”
We stare at each other silently for a long moment, seconds ticking by. His fingers begin to rub along my happy trail, and the atmosphere in the room changes. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as the strong column of his throat flexes with a swallow. It isn’t until he presses his hips into me that I feel his hardness against my ass.
“Let me show you,” he murmurs, dipping his head so our lips barely brush. “Please, let me show you how much you mean to me.”
The desperation in his voice has my cock twitching, warmth flooding my groin for the first time in months.
I shouldn’t. There are still so many questions unanswered between us, things that he needs to figure out, but it’s been so long, and I’m sick of being lonely. A piece of my soul was torn away, and now here he is, holding me tightly as if his arms could squeeze me back together.
I don’t want to be the strong one right now. I want to give in.
Leaning up on my toes, I kiss him gently, sweetly, our mouths moving together in perfect sync. It doesn’t take long before it turns heated, his tongue lapping at mine like he’s starving.
I’m pinned against the counter, the pressure making me hard, and I groan into his mouth when he scrapes a nail over my nipple. “Fuck, I missed you doing that. ”
“I love how you get when I do it,” he moans, palms sliding down to cup my dick. “Missed you so much. I’ve been thinking about that night when you fucked me, how you said we could try it both ways…”
My breath catches as I push back against him. “You wanna fuck me, Matty? Feel my ass around your cock?”
A filthy whine escapes his lips. “Please. I need to be inside you.”
Fuck. We shouldn’t. He’s still so confused and dealing with all this custody bullshit. But he’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m dying, and only his touch can save my soul.
Eyeing the cooking oil above the sink, I grab it and thrust the bottle into his hands before dropping my jeans. “Get me ready, big guy.”