Chapter 21 MATTY
MATTY
Irode Junebug hard across the land, the wind slashing my face, biting into my skin like it wanted to tear me apart.
My grip on the reins was tight, almost painful, but it was the only thing grounding me, the only thing that kept my mind from spiraling.
Every pounding hoofbeat beneath me felt like a strike against the chaos in my chest, like I could outrun all of it, just the rhythm of the ride and the power of the horse.
Junebug moved effortlessly, her muscles rippling under me, but I pushed her harder.
She loved it, lengthening her gait as I gave her free rein.
We were flying, the world around us a blur of green and brown, the earth beneath us swallowing up the seconds as we sped forward.
It didn’t matter where we were going. The land was endless.
But no matter how fast I pushed, no matter how hard I leaned into the ride, the storm inside me wouldn’t quiet. The frustration, the anger, the ache in my chest wouldn’t go away. I was too damn frustrated. And I didn’t know what to do with it.
As we neared the lake, I slowed Junebug to a stop. I dismounted, almost stumbling, and took a moment to breathe.
I walked to the edge of the lake, my boots sinking slightly into the wet earth. My chest was tight, and my throat felt like it was closing. I loathed every hateful thing I’d said to my mother, but meant it at the same time. How was that possible?
I turned to Junebug, who was standing patiently, her dark eyes watching me. I moved toward her, not saying a word. I wrapped my arms around her broad neck and buried my face in her mane of coal.
“Just need a minute, girl.”
The familiar heat of tears welled up behind my eyes. The horse stood still, letting me hold on. Junebug whinnied, then nuzzled me gently, resting her head against my shoulder as though she could feel the weight I was carrying.
My whole world felt like one big lie. On top of that, now I had to find a way to break the news to Hudson that he’d never been married.
The sound of hooves broke the moment, and I straightened, quickly wiping my eyes. I wasn’t ready for anyone to see me like this.
“Matty?”
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
My heart pounded as Dad dismounted from his horse and walked toward me, his brow furrowed in concern. I must have been a sight, standing there by the lake, my shoulders slumped like I couldn’t hold myself together anymore.
“What’s wrong, son?” His voice was gentle, but it hit me like a wave.
I opened my mouth to speak, to brush it off, but nothing came out. My chest felt hollow, like everything I’d been holding in for days was finally breaking through. And I couldn’t stop it.
Dad opened his arms, and I didn’t even think. I stepped forward and fell into him like I was a kid again, like I was looking for something I couldn’t find in myself. And I cried.
I cried for the past, the parts of me I couldn’t undo, for the teenage boy who had loved with an intensity that felt eternal, only to lose everything in a matter of months.
I cried for the present, mourning the complexities of a mother’s love that I couldn’t quite grasp, for the pieces of her that I still longed to understand.
I cried for the future, the uncertainty of what lay ahead, the weight of blind trust I was asked to give again. I gave it with trembling hands, hoping against hope that the man I had placed my faith in wouldn’t betray me again. But it wasn’t easy.
“Ah, Matty.” Dad stroked my hair, pressing me even closer to him. His voice sounded hoarse, like he was close to tears. “I’m sorry you’re hurtin’, son.”
In his arms, the world didn’t seem so big, so hard. It wasn’t just the comfort of being held; it was the feeling of being small again, of shedding the weight of the world, if only for a moment.
When I was younger, I went to Dad for everything, especially when I was upset.
That time I came home with a black eye, too proud to admit I lost control, he didn’t shout or ask why.
He pulled me close, his hand steady on the back of my neck, like he could protect me from whatever the world threw my way.
But as I grew older, I stopped going to him. I saw myself as a man, a rancher who had to be tough. And ranchers didn’t need comforting. Like Dad, who’d never shown a tear in his life.
After everything blew up with Hudson, all I wanted was one of those hugs again, but for the first time, I had to face something so big alone. Slowly, my relationship with Dad had shifted into something more distant, more like coworkers who got along. Lately, not even that.
And now I realized what I needed all along was his hug.
“Let it out, Matty,” he murmured. “It’s okay. You don’t have to carry it all on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”
His steady hand was on my back, rubbing in slow circles, soothing the frantic tremor in my chest. The tightness that had been in my throat finally loosened as I leaned into him more, letting the weight of my emotions ease.
Dad didn’t say anything but held me and let me calm down in the warmth of his embrace.
After a long moment of silence, he guided me gently to sit beside him on the edge of the lake.
He didn’t let go of me but wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close so that I could rest my head against him.
I didn’t fight it. I leaned into him, into the comforting weight of his arm, the solid presence that had always been my safe place, even when I hadn’t realized it.
He sighed, a low sound, filled with heaviness.
“It’s been forever since you’ve let me hold you like this, Matty.
You grow up, you get bigger, and you start pushing me away.
It’s tough, you know? Watching your kid grow, watching them hurt…
and having to keep your distance, waiting until they need you enough to let you in. I don’t think that ever gets easier.”
I snorted softly, wiping the last of my tears away. “You should tell that to your wife,” I muttered. “She doesn’t have any problem interfering when it’s not wanted.”
“Your mother.” Dad sighed. “Gertie told me you two had a big row. She wouldn’t tell me what about, though. Said if I wanted to know, I should go be a father. So here I am.”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Typical Gertie.” I quieted, a strange lump forming in my throat again.
“I remember how much I couldn’t wait to grow up.
I thought it would be… easier, you know?
Like there’d be some freedom, some… clarity.
But the older I get, the more I realize that grown-up feelings are so damn complicated. ”
Dad didn’t say anything. Instead, he tightened his arm around me and pulled me a little closer, as though offering some silent reassurance. His hand found its way back to my hair, gently brushing through it again. It was soothing.
“I get it,” he said after a long pause, his voice soft.
“I get that it feels like everything should make sense as you get older. But the truth is, the older you get, the more you start realizing how much of it is out of your hands. You can try to control it, to make it easier, but it doesn’t always work like that. ”
I let his words sink in. A part of me had always wanted to be in control, always wanted to have answers, to have things figured out. But in that moment, I was learning something I didn’t want to admit. I didn’t have to have everything figured out. And it was okay to not know.
“How did you stand being married to her?”
“Matty—”
“She’s nothing like you. She’s so shallow.”
“But she loves you.”
“Does she? Or does she love the idea of having handsome gay sons she can parade in front of her friends?”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Dad, I want you to be honest with me.” I plucked a blade of grass. “Did you know Hudson and I were involved that summer?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t hard to figure out who you were with on Friday nights.”
“But you never tried to stop me.”
“Why should I?”
“Didn’t our age difference bother you?”
“I can’t say I wouldn’t have preferred him to be younger, but the gap wasn’t that much.
” He huffed out a laugh. “Look at me and Ozzie. Now that’s an age gap.
Plus, you were nineteen going on twenty that year.
Not exactly a kid. You could have eloped and married that man if you wanted to, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done about it.
Not to mention, you were a very mature nineteen-year-old with a good head on your shoulders.
Hudson might have been older, but he seemed a lot less grounded than you.
I know you, Matty, and trusted you that you would know whether you were being taken advantage of, and it didn’t seem that way. ”
“You were livid when you caught me with your foreman.”
He stiffened. “You were seventeen, and he was pushing forty. I’m not even getting into it with you again why that was wrong.”
“I hit on him, you know.”
“I didn’t care then, and I still don’t care. He should have told you no. Should have shot his dick off before I sent him packing.”
My heart fluttered, and I swallowed hard. I clenched my hand into a fist. He could never find out about Grant.
“Your mistakes are yours to make, Matty, and that summer, if Hudson was going to be a mistake, I hoped you would have at least learned from it.”
I shifted, my back going ramrod straight. “I didn’t make a mistake.”
“I didn’t mean to imply Hudson was a mistake. Just that it worried me how quickly you fell for him, but then when you left for college and he married Heather, I figured I was wrong and you two were fooling around that summer.”
“He was my everything, Dad.” My stomach ached admitting it out loud. “He made me happier than I’d ever been. Being with him was easy. I loved him so much back then.”
“And now?”
“I still love him, even after everything.”
Dad nodded slowly. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t worry me that he’s hurt you in the past.”