Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Matt’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket, hoping for one stupid moment that it was Owen.
Except Owen won’t have time to send messages. He has a house full of guests.
The party would be in full swing by now. Matt had been trying not to give it head space, but he’d been stuck on a train since nine-thirty that morning. Two changes and almost eight hours of not looking at his book, not watching anything on his tablet, not doing anything except think.
Then he remembered his phone.
Eric: Sorry. Got held up. I’ll be there in ten minutes, maybe fifteen.
He sighed, but didn’t put the phone back into his pocket.
Stirling station was airy, its walls covered in white brick tiles, the ceiling high, allowing what light there was to pour in. People moved around him with bags and cases, heading towards trains or away from them, each person apparently certain about where they were going next.
Matt envied them.
He glanced at the screen. Six o’clock. His parents would be at Owen’s by now, probably somewhere in the middle of a crowd. He opened his dad’s contact. He wasn’t really sure why.
I should probably leave him alone.
He pressed call.
His dad answered after three rings. “Hey, mate.”
“Hey.” There was a burst of background noise on the other end, followed by his father moving somewhere quieter.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Eric’s just been delayed. He won’t be long though.”
“Where are you?”
“Stirling. Still at the station.”
“Ah. Not far now, then.”
“No.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Matt could hear the faint hum of voices, the occasional clink of something in the background.
“How’s the party?”
“Loud. I’ve met people who worked in the hotel business with Owen, some going back years. The man has a lot of friends.”
Yeah, he does. “Is Owen coping?”
“I think so. He’s roped Callum into helping. Cyn too, by the look of it.” Dad chuckled. “I heard her asking if he was going to pay her at the end of the night.”
“Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah. It’s great. Your mum brought enough food to feed the whole county.”
“That sounds like Mum.”
There was a pause. “You okay, Matt?”
He stared at the glass door of the waiting room. “Yeah.” He swallowed.
Lying again. He was so far from okay he didn’t know what okay looked like anymore.
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
Matt swallowed again. “I just…” He stopped, unsure how to continue.
Dad waited.
That was one of the things Matt loved about him. He could be irritating and nosy and spectacularly embarrassing, but when it mattered, he knew when to shut up.
And sometimes, somehow, he knew exactly the right thing to say.
“Dad… Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Matt stared at his shoes. “Have you ever…” He stopped and started again. “Have you ever thought you really mattered to someone, and then realised you’d got it wrong?”
“What’s happened?” Dad’s voice was low.
“Nothing.”
“Matt.”
He closed his eyes. “It’s about someone I met this summer.”
There was another pause, but this one felt different, as though Dad was listening carefully now.
“Someone important?”
Matt nodded even though his dad couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to tell me about him?”
The word caught Matt completely off guard.
He opened his eyes. “‘Him’?”
There was the faintest hesitation on the other end of the phone.
“You said someone,” Dad replied. “I figured I could either wait for you to tell me or make you say it.”
Despite the ache in his chest, Matt smiled. “There isn’t really anything to tell.”
“That isn’t how this sounds.”
He stared through the waiting room windows. People moved around the station, coming and going, carrying bags, checking phones, living ordinary Saturday evenings while his entire world seemed to have narrowed to one man standing somewhere far away.
He took a breath. “But you were right the first time.”
“About?”
“That it’s a him.”
“Okay.”
Matt blinked. “That’s all I get? Okay?”
“I’ll save my dramatic reaction until I’ve heard the rest.”
Matt laughed.
“But just so we’re clear? I don’t have a problem with him being a him.”
Warmth spread through Matt’s chest. “I know.”
“No, you don’t, not for certain. You might know your old man well enough to guess, but I’d rather you heard me say it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Another silence settled between them. This one felt easier. “So what happened to make you think you got things wrong?”
Matt closed his eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me everything.” Dad’s voice was gentle. “But you can.”
He opened his eyes and swallowed. “He matters to me. And I thought…” He paused to take a breath. “I thought I mattered to him too, until… something changed.”
“You don’t have to tell me his name.”
Matt laughed shakily. “I get the feeling you already know.”
There was a pause. “Owen.”
He stopped breathing.
“You can only be talking about Owen.”
Matt wiped away the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
He laughed through the tears. “You keep saying that.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“It is.” Dad paused. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not worried about his age.”
Matt’s chest tightened. “You’re not?”
“No. What concerns me more is that you’re hurting.” A moment’s pause. “This change you mentioned… did Owen initiate it?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you ask him what was going on?”
“I couldn’t. I was too frightened I’d got it wrong.”
Dad let that sit for a moment. “Matt, you can’t build a relationship out of guessing what someone else feels. You have to ask.”
Matt swallowed. “But what if I’m afraid of the answer?” Breathing felt so fucking difficult. “If he tells me I’m wrong, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You’ll survive it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
Matt closed his eyes. “I love him.” The words were barely more than a whisper.
Dad didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was very gentle. “And does he love you back?”
Matt’s throat closed. “I don’t know.”
Dad sighed. “Then perhaps that’s the question you need answered.”
Matt stared through the glass.
Somewhere inside him, beneath all the fear and hurt and the certainty he’d somehow misunderstood everything, there was still one stubborn little piece of hope that one day he’d end up with Owen.
The safest place he’d ever found and also the person most capable of breaking his heart.
Matt rubbed his thumb against the edge of his phone. “I keep thinking I must have done something.”
Dad’s breathing caught. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I pushed too far. Maybe I thought something meant more than it did. Maybe I got too comfortable.”
“Matt.”
“I’m trying not to make it a thing.”
“What thing?”
“This.” He gestured helplessly at the station, as though his dad could see the mess inside his head. “I don’t even know what I’m asking for. He never promised me anything. That’s the worst part. I can’t even be angry with him.” His voice broke on the last word.
His father said nothing.
Matt took a breath. “I miss him. I miss him all the time. And I don’t know how you’re supposed to stop missing someone when you haven’t actually lost them.” His eyes burned. “And I keep thinking maybe if I’d done something differently…”
“No.” The word was immediate. “Don’t do that to yourself.” Dad’s voice held something fierce beneath the softness now. “You don’t get to decide everything that’s gone wrong must somehow be your fault.”
Matt inhaled slowly. “I just wish I knew what happened. I think that’s why it hurts so much.”
Movement caught his eye. He turned his head to find Eric standing in the doorway.
“Dad, I have to go.”
“I’m sorry.” Dad’s voice was so quiet.
Matt’s eyes filled again, and he swiped at them. “Me too. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.” The call ended.
Matt slid the phone into his pocket, then stood to accept the hug he knew Eric had for him. Matt held on longer than he intended.
“Let everything go for a while, okay?” Eric whispered. “Even if it’s just a night.” He stepped back and studied him. “Can you do that?”
For a few seconds, he let himself breathe. “Yeah, I can try.”
Eric picked up one of Matt’s bags. “Come on. Garth’s cooked enough curry to feed a football team.”
Matt forced out a hollow laugh. “Maybe you should’ve warned him I wasn’t particularly hungry.”
Eric gave him a sideways glance, but said nothing.
Matt followed him out to the car, his head still replaying the conversation with his dad.
I know why I haven’t asked Owen where I stand. Because I’m frightened the answer will be exactly what he said all along.
What if he did ask, and Owen said, ‘This was always meant to end’?
Whatever hope he’d been quietly building would die in a heartbeat.
That made things easier.
Matt would choose uncertainty over confirmation any day.
Owen should have been enjoying himself, but some small, stubborn part of him kept expecting Matt to appear through the side gate. Every time it opened, Owen glanced across.
Every time, it was someone else.
He stood near the edge of the patio with a drink in his hand and watched his guests, feeling as though he were observing his own party from somewhere outside himself. Every time someone addressed him, Owen smiled automatically, not hearing a word they said.
His mind was in Scotland.
For two weeks I did exactly what I’d told myself I would do.
He’d been careful. He’d stopped asking Matt to come over.
He’d stopped finding reasons for him to stay.
He’d replaced kisses with brief touches of affection that could be explained away as friendship, and whenever Matt had gazed at him with that uncertainty in his eyes—yes, and hurt—Owen had smiled and pretended not to notice.
I was kind.
That was the word he’d used to justify it. The trouble was, kindness wasn’t supposed to feel this much like cruelty.
Owen took a drink and glanced towards the house where he’d stood and watched Matt retreat slowly over those two weeks. Matt hadn’t confronted him or demanded an explanation. He hadn’t even asked whether something was wrong.