Chapter 9
Aron
Since both of us are filthy, Matt and I take showers after he patches me up.
He gets me set up in the master shower first, and when I get out, there’s a pile of fresh clothing on the counter.
Sweatpants, socks, a t-shirt, and even a new, unopened package of boxers, all in my size, all with the tags still on.
After getting dressed, I venture out in search of Matt, who disappeared while I was showering.
The house is practically a labyrinth, but I finally find him in the kitchen.
His hair’s wet, slicked back and still dripping, and he’s wearing a similar outfit to mine.
The white tee is damp, plastered to his toned muscles, and his glutes in those sweats …
I’ve watched him work out, seen him naked, but I’ve never noticed how tight they are.
One thing that shocks me is the existence of loungewear in the house to begin with.
I guess Tito figured comfort was allowed if the Syndicate came under attack, though I find it surprising.
I never saw the don in anything but impeccably tailored suits.
I didn’t even realize he knew sweatpants existed.
I lean against the door frame and watch Matt for a few minutes before alerting him to my presence. There’s something oddly peaceful about the scene, despite the chaos of the night. Just Matt making pasta, like his whole world hadn’t just ended in a series of devastating explosions.
“What’s the sauce tonight?”
Matt turns and smiles at me before going back to the meal. “Just a simple alfredo. There wasn’t much else in the way of ingredients. I think Dad forgot we need meat on hand, too.”
“Who kept the food fresh if no one knew this place was here?”
“Me and Dad. We’d sneak away every so often and restock.
Nights that you and your dad were off duty.
With the other guards, it was easy enough to slip their watch and come out here really quick.
” He chuckles and turns off the stove. “Not with you two, though. Fuck, I don’t think I ever gave you the slip in all the years we’ve known each other. ”
“Nope.” I push off the wall and start opening cabinets in search of dishes to set the table while Matt finishes up.
“Yeah. Good times.”
As soon as I have two plates put down, Matt serves dinner.
Fuck, I’d almost forgotten what an amazing cook Matt is. Since his dad insisted on paid staff for just about everything, Matt never got much of a chance to make his own meals. Everything was prepped and cooked for him, often before he even got home.
“This is delicious, Matt. How have you been keeping your skills up? Tito didn’t let you cook, did he?”
“Not really, but it’s kind of like riding a bike, I guess. You just get back on and go.”
That makes sense. If I’d paid attention in home ec, I might’ve gained the same skills, but I was too busy watching over Matt.
Fuck, I missed out on a lot in school by watching over him.
I guess I never realized how much of my life revolves around him until tonight.
Everything I know or don’t know is related to keeping Matt safe.
Can I learn how to make him happy, too?
We eat in silence for a few minutes while I contemplate the future. While I’ve always loved Matt—maybe not the same way he loves me, but I love him—I never thought about what that meant. He was always out of reach, someone I served. How do you go from that to … more?
I guess the best way to figure things out, and to take my mind off Emily, is to talk about it.
“So … patron saint of horny tops, huh?”
Matt chokes on his food, coughing and sputtering at my sudden question. “I thought I was the saint of brothers to you,” he says once he’s recovered enough to speak. His tone is a strange mix of shock and sarcasm.
Shit. That probably stung when I said it. I wasn’t thinking at the time.
“Well, that might have been some leftover brain damage from the explosion talking. I mean, yeah, we grew up together, but we’re not actual brothers.”
Reaching across the table, Matt pats my hand gently. “Nice try. You meant what you said.”
“Doesn’t mean I was thinking straight when I said it.”
“Oh, you were thinking straight, all right.” He leans back in his chair, tipping it up on its rear legs.
Was that a slight wince when he did that?
“It’s okay if you’re not feeling what I feel, Aron.
You’ve had a shit night, and you’ve got a lot of trauma to process.
I shouldn’t have even said what I said. That’s too much pressure to put on you right now. ”
“This isn’t a case of peer pressure. It’s … fuck, I don’t know what it is. New opportunity? You’ve been one hundred percent off limits my entire life. I never let myself think that way. What would’ve been the point? I’d just be pining for something I can’t have. Can you imagine?”
His lips twist into a wry grin. “Gee, what would that be like?”
Oh. Right. I suppose if anyone knows about pining, it’d be Matt.
“Okay, point made. But seriously, between losing Emily and the baby and now this … I don’t even know how I feel. About their deaths, about Tito and Dad being gone, about you. Everything is all jumbled in my head.”
Matt raises a brow. “Is it jumbled anywhere else?”
“What do you mean?”
He stands up and moves a few steps to the side, so the table isn’t blocking my view. “What do you feel when you look at me? Not emotionally. Physically.”
Oh, Jesus. I can’t believe he’s asking that.
I avert my eyes away from the obvious without thinking, avoiding the bulge in his sweats.
Have I seen Matt’s cock before? Of course.
He’s not exactly shy. But I’ve never considered how the sight of it makes me feel, how my body wants to react to it. Does my body want to react to it?
I risk a peek at Matt, and the answer is not only immediate but also blatantly obvious in these damn pants.
Matt glances down at my lap and nods. “Okay, so that question is out of the way. Whether or not you’re too deep in mourning to pursue this is something else, but at least we know this much.”
At least he didn’t laugh at me.
“I thought the grey sweatpants thing only worked on chicks,” I mutter, turning back to my plate and stuffing another bite of pasta in my mouth.
His charming grin only makes things worse. “Oh, the grey sweatpants work on everyone, if they’re so inclined.”
“If that’s the case,” I wave my fork in his direction, “why aren’t you sporting a boner?”
Laughter fills the kitchen as Matt nearly doubles over. “Aron, I’ve been hiding boners around you my whole life. I’m more practiced at this than you are.”
“Valid point.”
Silence drags on a bit as Matt sits back down, and we continue the meal.
My mind races with a hodgepodge of conflicting and unrelated thoughts.
In addition to exploring my newly admitted feelings for him, we’ve also got to figure out what to do about tonight’s attack on the Syndicate.
From what Matt tells me, it seems like several homes and hideouts were hit tonight, which doesn’t bode well.
The whole thing reeks of an inside job, but I can’t for the life of me think of who could pull it off.
Tito keeps—kept—a tight leash on his empire.
Then a disturbing thought occurs to me, one that makes my blood run cold.
Besides Matt, only one man in the Syndicate would know enough and potentially have the resources for this kind of endeavor. One man at the heart of it all, closer to the don than anyone except Matt.
Dad.