Chapter 10
ELIAS
I’m trying really hard to focus on Matty’s proposal, but when he’s standing there with those bare, toned legs on full display with my shirt just barely—barely—hanging over his ass, I can hardly remember to breathe, let alone think.
“Lee?”
I shake the haze away, or at least away from the forefront of my mind, and swing my legs off the couch. It’s probably best if I keep the chub to myself.
The ghost of Matty’s fingers still prickles over my skin, and I smooth my palms over my thighs to distract myself.
“I’d never turn down a date with you, fake or otherwise.”
That makes him smile, and even if I didn’t make it out of tonight with a sort-of date with him, that would be enough for me.
“I’m going to make us some cocoa,” he says. “Want anything from the kitchen?”
“No, I’m good.” But when he turns to walk away, a bitter tasting feeling nags in my gut, and I thrust my hand out to grab onto his wrist. “Matty.”
He tilts his head, eyes landing on me quizzically. My throat itches with a mountain of words ranging from appreciation to depreciation, but when I swallow them down, there’s only two words that remain.
“I’m sorry.” His skin is soft beneath my fingertips, and I bury my focus in the sensation.
“I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to try so hard.
I want this to be home for you, even if it’s only temporary.
That means if you need to turn it all off …
we’ll support you. If you need to switch to ASL for a while …
I’ll figure it out. You aren’t just a guest, Matty.
I want you here as long as you want to be here. ”
That was too much. It had to be. Tonight has made me feel like we’ve cut my chest open. That all of these swirling emotions need an outlet, and as much as I know these are thoughts I should keep to myself, I don’t want to.
Matty is always so much more put together than I am, so much more in control of himself, that it’s like a complete shock to my system when he drops to his knees in front of me.
His eyes are wet, but before I can ask him what’s wrong, his arms are around my neck and his face is pressed to the base of my throat.
“Don’t talk,” he says with a wet laugh. “Just hold me, silly.”
I do. Because he asked. Because I want to. My arms go around his middle and hold in a matching tightness to his own grip.
We don’t talk. For several minutes. I count each breath he makes, starting over when he sniffles. I run my fingers over the outline of his braid, gently pulling apart the strands in my exploration. The elastic in his hair slips free, and I sink my hand into his hair with a content sigh.
Once his tears have settled, Matty pulls back and knocks his forehead to mine. He doesn’t speak, though. He breathes, eyes closed, arms around me like a fortress. I’m willing to let him stay here as long as he wants, as long as he needs, because I meant it.
I want this to be home. I want him to be happy and comfortable, and I’ll do anything to give that to him.
How have I fallen so fast for him?
“I’m going to make that cocoa,” he says with his voice barely above a whisper, the words a raw rumble.
Then, he extricates himself, using my shoulders as leverage to get to his feet.
I don’t want to let him go. I want to tighten my hold and press my face to his stomach, just breathe him in, because I’m already this far gone tonight.
But I don’t. Because the line is as blurry as ever, and if I don’t let him step away now, I might ask him to stay.
Not just for this moment.
Or for tonight.
I know better, but every time we touch, all rationale goes out the window. All that exists is rampant desire and a bottle of barely contained adoration.
Matty walks away, and I slump back on the cushion, squeezing my eyes shut tight.
My sister will be all too thrilled to see Matty and I all coupled up at her wedding, but a part of me wishes he had declined. Because if he had told me no, I would have accepted it. No questions asked. Just like I’ll take every touch, every kind word, all at face value.
Would it be such a bad thing? To see where this could take us? Cal has already taken a liking to him. Matty adores Cal. Using my son’s potential feelings as a scapegoat isn’t fair. If I was really worried about his possible attachment, I never should have moved Matty in.
“I care about fostering a relationship with you.”
But then I remember Matty crouched on the floor. Wiping away tears in hopes I wouldn’t see. Clinging to me as they tracked down his cheeks.
That was after one mild meltdown.
He hasn’t seen the worst of us yet. Not just Cal—but of me. Matty thinks I’m some great parent when in reality it’s taken a lot of trial and error for me to get on the same wavelength as Cal, and sometimes I still slip.
Signing on to being with me is signing up for all of the baggage I come with.
I’ll take what I can get from Matty, but I can’t give him too much. Not without risking his heart.
The smell of the hot chocolate permeates through the room, and I strain my neck to see the progress in the kitchen. All I can see is Matty’s back as he stands by the stove, a pot of boiling milk and chocolate powder on the eye.
Distance would be a good thing for us both.
So why are my feet moving? Why am I standing in the threshold between the living room and kitchen clutching the frame for support?
Matty throws a look over his shoulder, smiling when he sees me.
I really like his smile.
The way it reaches his eyes.
I'm not in control of my body, I don’t think. Padding across the kitchen, stopping to stir the chocolate milk concoction and checking Matty out in the process.
He’s leaning against the counter on his elbows, scrolling through something on his phone. My fingers twitch at my side.
Matty spoiled me tonight—from the moment I got home, we've been in near constant contact. I don't need it to be anything sexual. Or romantic even.
I just need to have my hands on him. To settle the worry warring with the exhaustion and the bundle of feelings I'm trying to keep under wraps.
I can't even bring myself to say his name. Everything in my head feels so heavy, like a weighted blanket thrown on top of a pillow fort.
I slide my fingers over his waist, just a graze while I wait for a response. It's instantaneous. He threads the fingers of his free hand through mine and hums.
I tighten my grip and step fully behind him, letting the heaviness weigh me down. My forehead drops to his shoulder.
“Maybe you should head to bed.”
My throat aches with a groan, and all I can do is tug us closer, his back to my chest.
“You're wearing my clothes.” I know I sound indignant, like a whining toddler.
Matty snickers, and a slow glide of fingers through my hair only makes the pouting worse.
“You offered, silly.”
Silly. That's what I am. Silly, silly Elias who thought he could get closer to the boy with chocolate colored eyes and voice like a sunshine sky without losing his heart in the process.
“I didn't think it'd affect me this much, if I'm honest,” I mumble as he scratches his nails over my scalp.
Even though I can't see it, the smile in his voice is evident. “You're weak for me, Elias Lee.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
I trail my nose up the side of his neck, pressing my lips to his hairline. He shudders but doesn't seem bothered.
“You tease me, but I am.”
So fucking weak.
His fingers grip onto my hair when I mouth along his skin, not sensual in nature, simply seeking.
Seeking what?
His breathing quickens and stutters, and my hands go from perched on his waist to wrapped around his stomach.
I want to hold him.
“Lee,” he whispers, a hint of humor still clinging to the fragile tremble of his voice.
When did he start calling me that? When did I start liking it?
He throws an arm out, and my body goes still in response. Except he doesn't push me away. There's a click—Ah! The stove!—and then liquid sloshing about.
“Lee,” he says again, voice fuller, more firm. He struggles to turn in my arms, chuckling softly until I loosen my grip.
I leave one arm around his waist and lift my other hand to push the hair away from his eyes once he’s facing me. His fingers curl in my shirt, hesitation and anticipation written all over his face.
“I just want to hold you,” I rasp, making sure his gaze is on my mouth.
He swallows and nods. “Okay.”
Okay.
Okay.
The pressure in my chest squeezes so tight that my vision blurs, that the air in my lungs stutters.
“Lee.” Warm fingers brush the back of my neck.
My eyes water, and when those fingers tug me down, I let them guide me to the crook of Matty’s neck.
In.
Out.
Tears leak out no matter how tightly I screw my eyes shut.
What am I crying for?
“I’ve got you,” he says like a prayer into my ear.
That’s my line. But my voice doesn’t work enough to say it back.
“You’ve been my safe place, troublemaker. Let me be yours for a while.” His fingers play with the short strands of my hair, and I wish I could say I was enjoying it, but it takes everything in me just to focus on the sound of his voice.
“Princess,” I choke out, but that’s as far as I get before he’s shushing me.
“You said you wanted to hold me. So, hold me. We can figure everything else out tomorrow.”
I want to protest, but there’s no fight left in me. There’s no drive to do anything other than breathe in the mix of Matty’s skin and my t-shirt. Breathe and let the weariness seep into my bones. Let him hold me up. Hold me together.
Matty’s right. I am tired.
It feels like I could fall asleep right here in his arms—and I have no doubt he’d let me—but a little pitter patter of feet sends a shock to my nervous system.
“Daddy shark.”
Matty’s hands slowly fall away as I straighten, but he swipes his fingers across my cheeks before I step back.
“Right here, buddy,” I say, turning to see Cal standing in the living room with his sea creature blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the cooling hot chocolate sitting on the stove top.
“Drink your hot chocolate, Princess,” I mumble with a small smile, though I can’t bring myself to look at him and read his reaction. “I’ll probably be with Cal the rest of the night.”
His choked chuckle makes my smile widen. “Go play hero, Daddy.”
I make a face, and this time his laugh is clear as day. “Goodnight, Matty.”
As soon as I fully turn away, his fingers brush up against mine. A quick touch. Here and then gone.
“Goodnight, Lee.”
I spend the rest of the night in and out of sleep, dozing when Cal nods off or gets real quiet, and each little shift of sleep is filled with the same three things:
Matty’s eyes filled with humor and promise.
Matty’s hands as they wrap around me: a warmth in the swirl of cold.
And Matty’s soft, oath-swearing voice saying my name.
“Lee.”