Chapter 11
Aron
I wake up confused and disoriented, in unfamiliar surroundings.
Where’s Emily? Why am I not at home? Why is Matt spooning me?
As I stare at the heavily tattooed arms around me in the late morning light, my mind slowly processes the events of the previous evening.
Emily’s death. Matt saving me, trying to save her …
Matt confessing his love for me.
I shift my weight, trying to get more comfortable, and my ass brushes against Matt’s morning wood. He still snores lightly behind me, so I know he’s not trying anything, but it’s a bit awkward.
With as much care as I can muster, I untangle myself from Matt’s arms and slide out of bed, heading for the bathroom. I have to pee like crazy.
Matt finds me there a few moments later while I drain. I guess I wasn’t as slick as I thought I was when I got up.
“You were gone,” he says.
“Had to pee.”
Then I look over, and the expression on his face rips a hole in my heart.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You were gone.” He steps into the bathroom and embraces me from behind. I freeze, uncertain what to do with this. I just got up to pee for fuck’s sake. Is he really this upset because I left the bed while he was asleep?
“Matt, dude, can I finish before you start this?”
“I’m not starting anything,” he says, but his lips brush the back of my neck. “You scared me. I wasn’t expecting to wake up in an empty bed. That’s a worse nightmare than anything my subconscious could dream up.”
Shit. If there’s one thing I never expected, it’s for Matt to get emotional like this. His life dictates control and hardness; he can’t be vulnerable.
Except here, I guess. It’s just the two of us, with no one else to witness his weakness.
I give myself a couple of shakes then stuff the lizard back in my sweats. To my relief, Matt doesn’t offer to help with anything. That could make the awkwardness even worse.
Once everything’s back where it belongs, I turn around in Matt’s arms and return the hug.
Hugging Matt has always been natural, but now it seems a bit strained.
I still don’t know what to do now that we’re being open with each other.
Do I kiss him? Stroke his back? What does he want out of this embrace?
“I made it weird, didn’t I?”
I chuckle and give Matt a squeeze and a few pats on the back before letting go. “A little. But it’s okay. You also caught me before my coffee, so to be fair, I’m not functioning on all cylinders just yet.”
“Coffee!” Matt releases me and whips around. “To the kitchen!”
Ten minutes later, I meet Matt in the kitchen. We’re both dressed in jeans and tees, clothes that were already stocked in the panic … mansion?
Eggs and bacon sizzle in separate pans on the stove, and the oven timer dings, indicating even more food is ready. Matt pulls out a cookie sheet filled with hash browns, and my mouth waters.
“You realize you’re only cooking for two here, Matt? That’s enough food to feed the entire Syndicate.”
I realize my gaffe a second too late. Matt stiffens, but when he turns away from the stove, his face is set with a pleasant smile. “I could make two bagels and have enough food to feed the entire remaining Syndicate, Aron. Let me have some fun. Cooking is a safe place for me.”
“You don’t know that, Matt. There could be more survivors out there. Others who made it to safety. You said yourself that you only saw a few Syndicate locations explode.” I take the coffee mug he offers and drink it black, burning my throat on the bitter liquid.
With caffeine coursing through my system, I’m more awake, and sadly, more aware of the events of the previous night, events that cycle through my mind on a horrendous loop.
“So … What do we do now?”
Matt grunts and takes a sip. “I don’t know.
I mean, I know the protocols, the safeguards Dad put in place before he—before this.
But what I don’t know is how the remaining Syndicate members will accept me taking over.
Dad had a pretty solid hold on things, but I’m sure some of the survivors will defect, and some will want to fill the power vacuum on their own. ”
I gesture with my half-empty mug. “You’ve got two more days before those protocols kick in. There’s time to plan, time to set things in motion. We can start rebuilding before our people even check in.”
“Yeah … Two more days. I can still hear Dad’s voice, drilling that into my head. ‘Vacate. Find a safehouse. Wait three days, then report.’ Except no one can report to us now, because I’m hiding here. Like the coward I am.”
“You’re not a coward, Matt. You’re smart. Right now, hiding is the smart thing to do.” I frown. “But are you saying there’s no way to check messages? How are we going to find out who, if anyone, is left alive after last night? Where could everyone be?”
He taps the cup to his chin. “Hm. Good point. Where would you have gone?”
That’s a dumb question. “Wherever you went, like always.”
Predictably, Matt rolls his eyes. “Where would you have gone if I hadn’t kidnapped you while you were in shock?”
“My answer’s not going to change, Matt, no matter how many different ways you ask.”
“Oh, please!” He snorts and slams down his cup. “You didn’t even know I was in danger until seconds before your own house blew up. How were you going to follow me here if you didn’t know ‘here’ existed?”
I’m up so fast that my chair turns over with a loud clatter. “I knew something was wrong! Fuck, I was about to disobey the don by calling you before you showed up on my lawn.”
“You were going to call me against Dad’s wishes?”
I expect him to praise me for my loyalty to him, but instead, Matt seethes, turning red and raising his voice.
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed, you fucking idiot!”
Shocked by his anger, I fire back the only way I know how: I shout right back.
“Better me dead than you, dummy! I had to know Tito didn’t fucking murder you.”
The coffee cup crashes against the wall behind me, releasing the acrid scent of liquor as it splashes its contents. Matt Irished up his coffee this morning. No wonder he’s on edge. My gaze flits to the nearly empty pot, and I realize he’s already had more than just one cup.
“Dad wouldn’t kill me, and you know it. Beat the shit out of me, sure, but kill his only son and heir? He’d sooner commit suicide, and you know that’s a fucking mortal sin.”
Tears stream from my eyes as I remember how easily Emily distracted me from the task of contacting Matt.
I’d brought her to the store with me, so I never got the burner phone I was planning to buy.
This argument is kind of pointless. Feeling deflated and defeated, I drop my shoulders into a slouch and lean back against the wet wall.
“Murder is a sin, too, but that never stopped Tito.”
“You’re staining your shirt,” Matt grumbles, and I know that the fight is essentially over. I give him a few minutes of contemplation before I speak again.
“What was that about, Matt?”
He sighs and gets a fresh cup out of the cupboard, pouring half the last of the coffee and, sure enough, adding some liquor from a flask in his pocket.
“Denial? Anger? One of the stages of grief, I guess.” The coffee disappears down his throat. “Dad would have gotten here by now if he survived the attacks. Would have shown up to scream at us for sleeping in the same bed.”
Ah. So that’s his problem. “I’m sorry, Matt. I know Tito loved you, even if his last act was to beat you.”
“He warned me, actually,” Matt whispers into his next cup of alcoholic coffee. “He had time to make one phone call, and he used his last breath to call me and warn me. He’s the reason I’m alive.”
“See? He loved you. Hold onto that, man. Don’t let yourself forget that part.”
“He loved what I represented. A future for the Syndicate, for his legacy. If he really loved me, he would have accepted me as I am.”
I push away from the wall and walk over to Matt, laying a hand on his shoulder. “He did, in the end. He knew his life was over, but he saved you as his final act.”
When that has no immediate effect on his melancholy, I draw him into an embrace, holding his head to my chest. Within seconds, Matt breaks down in blubbering sobs.
I engulf him in my arms, like I can somehow protect him from this intangible emotion the way I’ve always protected him from bullets and blades.
“It’s all gone,” he sobs. “Everything Dad built from the fucking ground up … It’s gone. All of it.”
“You don’t know that. It might not be as bad as you think.
Even so, you’ll rebuild it,” I say, stroking his soft, dark hair.
“You have the knowledge. Tito taught you everything he knew. Give yourself time to grieve, then we’ll go out there and show the world that you don’t fuck with the Royal Syndicate. ”
After about twenty minutes, the sobs turn to sniffles, and Matt straightens.
“You should finish your breakfast. It’s probably cold by now.”
“And you—” I say, taking the flask from his pocket “—should probably get some food in your stomach, too. I’d wager you’ve had enough of this on empty.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Yep, that’s me: the original wet blanket. Now, eat.”
Even lukewarm, the food is delicious. We scarf it down, and I take care of the dishes for Matt since he did the cooking. It’s a strangely idyllic scene, one that shouldn’t happen for people in our line of work.
After breakfast, we head to the gym, an amenity that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Matt and Tito could never let something as minor as the implosion of their criminal organization keep them from their daily workout.
Matt even informs me that the panic room, which is more of a panic suite of rooms, has its own gym equipment.
The workout isn’t without its difficulties. We grunt and groan, both recovering from various injuries. A few exercises have to be modified to accommodate those wounds, and it becomes almost comical.
Showers after, with some hesitant petting on my part.
Matt’s all-in, but I’m still uncertain, still new to this.
We stroke each other, we make out, and Matt sucks my cock while the water runs over us.
For the first time in years, my vision doesn’t flicker.
Matt stays Matt, and something about that is more comforting than I could describe.
This is where I was meant to be. This is who I was meant to be with.