Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
MATT
Standing on the doorstep of my aunt’s house, my pulse pounds hard, a stupid reminder that I’m still here while my cousin isn’t.
That this is his mother’s house.
That she lost her son.
That his son lost his dad.
And I lost one of my closest friends.
I swallow the nerves jammed in my throat. I ran through a dozen scenarios on the drive over, things Cece might say, things I could say back to keep shit from blowing up. I haven’t seen her in years, and while I understand why she hated me back then, she doesn’t have a reason anymore.
Truth is, I deserved every ounce of it. I was the nephew who came into town and stirred up trouble. And I dragged Nate into the middle of it.
Trouble.
Understatement of the damn century.
I was ruthless as a teenager. Full of anger and unresolved issues, and an ego big enough to match any asshole on Wall Street.
I had resentment toward my father, disappointment in my mom, and I let it out the only way I knew how: drugs, alcohol, and sex.
I was wild, reckless, and Nate, Jensen, and Jordan got caught in the crossfire more than once.
I came to Chicago with my mom for Cece’s wedding when I was seventeen. Nate was a mess. His dad had only been gone a little over a year, and his soon-to-be stepfather was already trying to take over. He was pissed, and rightfully so.
Enter me.
Nate was good by nature. Straight A’s. Honest. Never touched booze. Never touched a girl.
We ducked out of the rehearsal dinner early and hit a house party because the girl he liked was going to be there. Why wouldn’t we?
I encouraged him to drink.
And drink.
And drink.
Later, we got in his car and drove. He made it half a mile before plowing into a neighbor’s house.
Nobody got hurt, thank God. But Nate was about to get a DUI and his ass handed to him by his mom and her fiancé. His life would’ve been hell.
I made him switch seats. Told the cops I was driving; it was my fault anyway. He never would’ve had a drink in his hand if it weren’t for me.
I knew my father would throw money at the problem, make it go away. He always did. He’d do anything to protect his image, even at my expense.
Cece never let me forget it. I was the reason her son got drunk. The reason the car was totaled. The asshole nephew who put her son in danger and wound up with a DUI.
It was worth it, though. Nate got his first kiss, even copped a feel. Jordan and I were together at the time, so I was strictly on wingman duty.
When I got back to New York, my father made the DUI disappear, right after telling me what a useless piece of shit he thought I was.
Nothing new there.
Cole pulls open the door.
“Hey, Matt.” His voice is quiet and raw, full of ache and something broken.
His eyes fill and he looks away, face crumpling. I step forward and wrap my arms around him. He folds into me, and it’s not a hug. It’s survival. The way someone leans into another when they’ve seen death up close and don’t know where else to put it.
A kid leaning into the one person he feels safe enough to let go with.
I pull him in tight and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, my voice cracking. I’m this close to losing it.
I let out a sigh of relief. Pure gratitude. Not because he’s okay. He’s not. I’m not. But because I needed this. Needed to see him. To hold him. Even if just for a second.
I can’t explain it, but being here with him makes it all feel… bearable. Like if I can take even one ounce of pain from him—just hold it, make it lighter—I’ll sleep better knowing that I made today a little easier for him.
Cole’s shoulders start to shake and he sniffs hard. Fuck it. I blink and let the sting behind my eyes fall. Even the bravest, strongest men cry when they lose a soldier.
And we lost a good one this morning.
Fuck. We lost a good one.
“It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.” What am I saying? Why the fuck am I saying that?
Cece appears in the doorway, her eyes red, grief carved in her expression.
“Hi, Cece.” My voice feels like gravel. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
I don’t bother trying to smile or pretend I’m happy to see her. I’m not. Nothing about this day is good. It can go to hell.
“Hello, Matthew.” She steps aside and waves me in. “Come in. The living room’s open.”
Cole pulls away and heads inside, and I follow behind him, my shirt damp from his tears. He sinks into the sofa, and I drop down beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
Silence. Sniffles. And… I don’t know what to say.
What do you say to a kid who just lost his dad? His only parent?
Finally I settle on, “How you holding up?”
Dumb. Stupid fucking question.
He shrugs. Figures. What’s he gonna say?
I try again. “I don’t know what to say. This is—this sucks.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see what you saw last night.
Sorry you had to go through that. Sorry your dad…
” Jesus Christ. I choke on the words, jaw locking.
“Didn’t make it.” I press my fingers into my forehead and inhale a shaky breath. “Shit.”
He’s quiet. And when I steal a glance at him, my chest caves, squeezes so tight it hurts.
He swipes at his cheeks. “When do I get to go home with you? I don’t want to stay here.”
My head tips back, eyes on the ceiling like maybe there’s an answer up there. “I know.” I want to say all the right things, anything to give him hope. But the last thing I’ll ever be with him is a liar.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “I’m talking to a lawyer today. Trying to get what’s called temporary guardianship. I don’t know if I’ll get it, bud. They might give it to your grandma. But I’m gonna try. I’ll fight like hell to win if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” he whispers, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Okay,” I whisper back. “Then I’ll do whatever I have to do. But in the meantime, your grandma Cece’s going to take good care of you, alright? Be good for her. And I’m just a phone call or text away if you need me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”
Cece clears her throat from the doorway, pulling my attention. “Cole, I made you a sandwich. Why don’t you go on into the kitchen and eat?”
Cole nods and stands, but he doesn’t move right away.
He just turns toward me, eyes shining, fighting like hell to blink it back. “Please take me with you.”
His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, and he swipes at his face fast, like if he gets the tears off quickly enough they won’t count.
A goddamn cleaver rips down the center of me, scraping my chest clean open—heart exposed, aching, and I’m on my feet before I can think.
He steps forward, still not hugging me, but I pull him into me anyway. His shoulders shake, and he sniffs. Quiet. Controlled. Trying so damn hard not to be a little kid about it.
And it guts me. Completely.
“I can’t. Not yet.” My voice breaks. “But I love you. God, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he chokes out.
My eyes dart to Cece and she looks away, down at the floor, then to the wall.
Cole pulls back. “Bye.”
I ruffle his hair, forcing a smile I don’t feel. “I’ll see you soon, buddy.”
He shuffles toward the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room with Cece.
She folds her arms, voice small and worn. “I’m not trying to make things difficult, Matthew. He’s my grandson. I love him. I’m just… trying to do right by him.”
I shake my head as I move past her. “If that were true, you’d let him come home with me.”
Her breath stutters, like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Maybe it’s grief. Maybe guilt. Maybe even pride. I don’t know.
And honestly? I don’t really care.
I don’t wait for anything else. I pull the door open and step outside.