Chapter Thirty-Nine
Matlock
The moment we stepped out of the courtroom, the congratulations started.
Simon’s mother pulled him into a tight hug, tears streaming down her face. His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression a mixture of relief and exhaustion. My club brothers crowded around, offering handshakes and back slaps.
I stood off to the side, watching Simon accept their congratulations with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He was still pale, still shaken from Rosalind’s threat.
I could see it in the way his shoulders were tense, the way his gaze kept drifting toward the courthouse doors like he expected her to come back.
King approached me, his expression unreadable. “Good work, counselor.”
“Thanks,” I said, though my mind was still on Rosalind’s parting words.
This isn’t over.
What the fuck did that mean?
“Hey,” King said, pulling my attention back. “We’re heading to the diner to celebrate.”
I nodded absently, my gaze drifting back to Simon. He was talking to his mother now, her hands cupping his face as she said something that made him nod.
“Matlock,” King said, his voice dropping lower. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m good.”
King studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. See you at the diner.”
He walked away, and I moved toward Simon, weaving through the crowd. When I reached him, I placed a hand on his lower back, just for a moment, just long enough to let him know I was there.
He turned, his eyes meeting mine, and I saw the question in them.
Are we okay?
I didn’t know how to answer that. So instead, I said, “We need to stop by and get that ankle monitor off.”
Simon blinked, then glanced down at his ankle like he’d forgotten it was there. “Right. Yeah.”
“We’ll meet you all at the diner,” I called to King, who nodded in acknowledgment.
Simon’s parents exchanged a look, and his mother said, “We’ll see you there, sweetheart.”
Simon nodded, and we started toward the courthouse exit. The crowd was thinning now, people filing out into the bright afternoon sunlight. I kept my hand on Simon’s back, guiding him through the press of bodies.
We were almost at the doors when I heard it.
“Billy, I said back off!”
I turned, and so did Simon. Sadie was standing near the far wall, her face flushed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Keys stood beside her, his expression a mixture of frustration and anger.
“I’m just trying to help,” Keys said, his voice tight.
“I don’t need your help!” Sadie snapped. “I don’t need you hovering over me like I’m some fragile fucking doll that’s going to break!”
“Sadie—”
“No!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway. “Just leave me alone, Billy. I mean it.”
She turned and stormed off, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Keys stood there for a moment, his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. Then he turned and walked in the opposite direction, his shoulders rigid with barely contained rage.
Simon took a step forward, his instinct to follow his sister written all over his face.
“Simon,” his father said, catching his arm. “Let her go.”
“Dad—”
“She needs time,” David said firmly. “She’s safe now. Let her have some space.”
“I tried that last time,” Simon said, his voice rising. “I gave her space, and look what happened. She ended up—”
“Alan can’t hurt her anymore,” David interrupted. “She’s safe. She’s here. And she needs to process this on her own terms.”
Simon looked torn, his gaze darting between his father and the direction Sadie had gone. I could see the war playing out in his mind, the need to protect her, the fear that something would happen if he let her out of his sight.
I stepped closer, my hand finding his shoulder. “Your dad’s right,” I said quietly. “She’s safe. And she knows where to find you if she needs you.”
Simon’s eyes met mine, and I saw the doubt there. The fear.
What if Rosalind goes after her?
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. Rosalind’s threat had been vague, but the implication was clear. She wasn’t done with this. She wasn’t done with any of us.
But I couldn’t tell Simon that. Not here. Not now.
“I’ll call Keys,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’ll make sure he keeps an eye on her. Okay?”
Simon hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Good,” I said. “Now let’s go get that monitor off so we can celebrate.”
Simon nodded again, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. He was still worried. Still afraid.
And I couldn’t blame him.
We made our way through the courthouse hallways toward the clerk’s office.
The administrative area was quieter than the main courtroom, with fluorescent lights humming overhead and the faint sound of phones ringing in distant offices.
A few people passed us, but mostly it was empty, the only sound the echo of our footsteps on the tile floor.
Freddie was waiting near the office door, a small room adjacent to the clerk’s desk. He looked up when he saw us, his face lighting up the moment he saw Simon.
“Well, well, well,” Freddie said, leaning against the doorframe. “If it isn’t the man of the hour. Heard the charges got dropped. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Simon replied, his smile polite but distant.
“Let’s get that monitor off you,” Freddie said, gesturing us into the small office. “Can’t have you walking around with that thing now that you’re a free man.”
He gestured for Simon to sit in one of the plastic chairs near the wall, and Simon complied. I stood off to the side, my arms crossed over my chest, watching.
Freddie knelt down in front of Simon, his hands reaching for the monitor around Simon’s ankle. “This won’t take long,” he said, his fingers brushing against Simon’s skin as he worked.
My jaw clenched.
“So,” Freddie said, glancing up at Simon with a grin. “Now that you’re free, maybe we could grab a drink sometime. Celebrate properly.”
Simon laughed, actually fucking laughed, and said, “Maybe.”
Maybe?
The muscles in my arms flexed against my chest.
Freddie’s grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.” His fingers lingered on Simon’s ankle, tracing the line where the monitor had been. “You’ve got great skin, you know that? Smooth.”
Simon’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head. “Thanks.”
I wanted to kill him.
I wanted to grab Freddie by the back of his neck and slam his face into the wall until he stopped fucking touching what was mine.
But I couldn’t.
Because Simon wasn’t mine. Not publicly. Not in a way that mattered.
Freddie finally removed the monitor, setting it aside on the desk. But instead of standing up, he stayed kneeling in front of Simon, his hand resting on Simon’s calf.
“You know,” Freddie said, his voice dropping lower, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since the last time I saw you.”
Simon’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Freddie. “Have you?”
“Yeah,” Freddie said, his thumb rubbing small circles against Simon’s leg. “You’re hard to forget.”
A low growl rumbled in my chest before I could stop it.
Freddie glanced over at me, his expression innocent. “Something wrong, counselor?”
“Get your fucking hands off him,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
Freddie raised his hands in mock surrender, standing up. “Relax, man. I was just being friendly.”
“Be friendly somewhere else,” I snapped.
Simon stood, his expression unreadable. “Thanks for taking the monitor off, Freddie.”
“Anytime,” Freddie said, his gaze lingering on Simon. “And seriously, think about that drink.”
Simon smiled and said, “I will.”
I grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him toward the door, my grip tight enough to make him stumble.
“Tony—”
“Not here,” I growled.
We stepped out into the hallway, and I didn’t let go of him until we reached the exit. I pushed through the courthouse doors and pulled him toward my SUV. I yanked the passenger door open and practically shoved him inside.
“What the hell is your problem?” Simon demanded as I slammed the door shut and rounded the vehicle to the driver’s side.
I climbed in, slamming my own door hard enough to make the SUV shake. “My problem?” I said, my voice rising. “My problem is that you were flirting with that asshole in there.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” Simon said, though his tone was defensive.
“Bullshit,” I snapped. “You were laughing at his jokes, blushing like a fucking schoolgirl, and you told him you’d think about going out with him.”
“I was being polite,” Simon said.
“You were being a fucking tease,” I shot back. “And he was touching you. His hands were all over you, and you just sat there and let him.”
Simon’s eyes flashed with anger. “What was I supposed to do, Tony? Tell him to stop? Make a scene?”
“Yes!” I roared. “You were supposed to tell him to back the fuck off because you’re with someone.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and loaded.
Simon stared at me, his expression shifting from anger to something colder. “Am I?” he asked quietly. “Am I with someone?”
My chest tightened. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Simon said, his voice steady, “that house arrest is over. The ankle monitor is gone. There’s no legal reason for you to be seen with me anymore.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“So what?” I said, my voice rough. “You think I’m just going to walk away now?”
“Isn’t that what you always do?” Simon asked, his gaze holding mine.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know.
For weeks, I’d had an excuse. A legitimate reason to be with Simon, to be seen with him, to touch him in public. The house arrest had given me cover, a way to justify our proximity without anyone questioning it.
But now that was gone.
And I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do.
Simon’s jaw tightened, and he turned to look out the window. “That’s what I thought.”
“Simon—”
“Just drive,” he said, his voice flat. “Everyone’s waiting for us at the diner.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t going to walk away, that I...
But the words wouldn’t come.
So I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, the silence between us heavy and suffocating.
The drive to the diner felt like it took hours, even though it was only ten minutes.
Simon didn’t say a word. He just stared out the window, his jaw tight, his hands clenched in his lap.
I wanted to reach over and touch him. Wanted to pull over and kiss him until he understood that I wasn’t going anywhere.
But I couldn’t.
Because the truth was, I still didn’t know if I could give him what he needed.
I didn’t know if I could be the man he deserved.
When we pulled into the diner’s parking lot, I could see my brothers’ bikes lined up near the entrance. The place was packed, the windows glowing with warm light.
I parked and killed the engine, but neither of us moved.
“Simon,” I said finally, my voice rough.
He didn’t look at me. “What?”
“I—” I stopped, the words catching in my throat.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know how to do this.
But I didn’t say any of it.
Simon waited for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”
He opened the door and climbed out, slamming it shut behind him.
I sat there for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my chest tight.
Then I followed him inside, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me like a fucking avalanche.