Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
TANDY
A fter a hectic couple of weeks, I’m fairly settled at Matthew’s. The cats still spend large chunks of the day slinking around, mapping out the house. They’ve gotten lots of extra treats the last few days.
Matthew is on the phone with his son, so I carry my tea out to the back porch to give him some privacy.
The old metal chair creaks as I sit, but thankfully, it doesn’t collapse underneath me. The summer heat is clinging to my skin long after the sun has sunk below the horizon. I think Mother Nature is angry at Texas because it feels like she’s trying to cook us to death.
The door opens, and Matthew steps behind me and massages my shoulders. “You don’t have to leave, you know?”
“Leave? I just came out because… You aren’t going to buy that I wanted to enjoy the evening, are you?”
“Nope. Come on inside.” He takes my tea, knowing I’ll spill it if I try holding it while I stand up. “I found a guy to take care of chores. He starts tomorrow, and we’ll try it for a week. That gives him time to see how he feels about the work, and me time to see how I feel about his work. But I’m hopeful he’ll be good.”
“And you’re going to finally tell your family about Mario leaving?”
“Zach and Eli know, so I’m guessing news has spread by now. Or maybe not. They were out to ride horses the other day. You were at your place packing. And they asked where Mario was. No point in keeping it a secret.”
“So I’m no longer sworn to silence?”
“Nope. I meant to tell you, but I forgot. Sorry about that.” He sets my cup on the counter, then makes himself some tea. “And they offered to come out and help, but you could see that they were trying to figure out how to make that work. They have families and full-time jobs. I won’t burden them with stuff I can handle.”
I rub his back. “I doubt they think of this place as a burden.”
“I know, but they don’t have time to take on these chores. For that reason, I’m glad I found someone. Hopefully, it works out. Because I’m not going to be here forever.”
I swat his arm. “Don’t talk that way.”
“I didn’t mean dead. I meant not in this place. This house.” He pulls me close. “I like having you here, but when you move into your house, I’ll probably look at downsizing. This is too much house for one old guy.”
It’s only been a few days since I moved in, but sharing a house with Matthew feels comfortable. And while I might never be ready to share more than that, I have to bite my tongue to keep from suggesting that he might want to live on my ranch. With me. In one of the extra bedrooms of course.
“I’m sure it’ll all work out, sweetheart.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Can I talk you into going on a horseback ride with me next week? We can ride over and check on the other house.”
“No.” I’m usually up for anything, but even I have my limits.
“What about going out in the mule?”
“A mule? If I won’t get on a horse, what makes you think I’ll ride a mule? No rides on farm animals. Or ranch animals or whatever you want to call them.”
He clasps my hand and walks through the kitchen, then opens the garage and points at a golf cart type thing. “That’s the mule. It has wheels, not legs.”
“Why didn’t you say it was a golf cart?”
He taps the body panel where the word MULE is painted in bright white. “Because it’s a mule. Multi-use Light Equipment.”
I make sure he sees my eye roll. “I’ll ride with you in that.”
He laughs, then stops and his entire body tenses. It’s obvious the man is in pain. My mind jumps to the absolute worst conclusion. He’s been working too hard, not getting enough sleep, and it’s affecting his heart.
“What’s wrong?”
After a minute, he unclenches his jaw. “I’m fine. Just a bit of pain.”
“You should go see your doctor if you are having pain, Matthew. Don’t ignore it.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Now who’s being stubborn?”
We go back inside and make fresh cups of tea before settling in the living room. Side by side on the sofa, he listens to one of his fishing podcasts, and I read. He has his earbuds in, so I don’t have to share in the joy of fishing. I’m not even sure how anyone would have enough to say about fishing that they’d have a weekly podcast. But not everyone thinks the same way. Shocking as it is, some people don’t like to read romance novels. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand that one.
When he starts dozing, I nudge him. “I’m going to bed.”
“I think I was asleep.”
“You were.” I give him a kiss. “Good night.”
Before I can walk away, he clasps my hand. “It’s nice having you here.”
“I like being here.” I hurry away before he has a chance to say anything else because I’m already thinking about asking him to move into my guest room when my house is finished. But I’m not ready to talk about that. Not yet.
We’re bumping along the dirt roads, and Matthew points to my left. “Remember that tree?”
“Not really.”
“Picture it smaller and me next to it with a broken pocketknife.”
I turned to look back at the massive oak. “You carved our initials. Mostly. You only managed the MG, the plus, and the T before your knife snapped.”
“That was one crummy pocketknife.”
Memories flood back as his childhood home comes into view. He and I spent hours on the porch swing, talking. Then we’d sneak off just far enough away that we couldn’t be seen. But close enough that he could hear if his mom called out. And we’d kiss. I remember like it was yesterday.
“Seems like a lifetime ago.” Matthew rolls to a stop, then shifts into neutral and engages the clutch.
“It was, Matthew. You’ve had a whole life since I was here last, and so did I. And they were good.”
“They were very good. Come on. I’ll show you around inside.”
As we’re walking hand in hand, he clenches his jaw, and despite his efforts to fake a smile, I can tell he’s in pain.
“Hurting?”
“Huh?” He can pretend like he has no idea what I mean, but I’m not going to give up so easily. I’ll give him a reprieve and bother him about it again later.
The interior is very different from when Matthew lived here. When we get to his old bedroom, he nods toward the door. “Want to go in this way? Or should I dig out my ladder?”
“You aren’t funny.” I push open the door. Nothing looks the same, but I vividly remember how I felt that day, which is a reminder of why Matthew and I can share a house but nothing more. It’s not like I haven’t been vulnerable with others, but something about Matthew is different. His opinion matters to me, even after all these years. And right now, he likes me. I want it to stay that way.
“While you walk down memory lane, I’m going to step into the bathroom.” Matthew taps the doorframe, his jaw set. Pain is etched on his face. “I’ll be back.”
I continue walking through the house, and a half hour later, I tap on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” His voice betrays his lie.
“Matthew, let me call a doctor.”
“No. I’ll meet you outside soon.” There is an edge to his voice I’ve never heard before.
Worried, I settle into the swing on the back porch. After more than an hour, he steps outside. He’s quiet. There is no twinkle in his eye, and he won’t make eye contact. Something is very wrong. But I’m not going to press him right now. Matthew is a big boy, and he’ll talk when he’s ready. Hopefully. Because my curiosity will consume me while I wait for him to share what’s bothering him.
The silence continues all the way back to the house.
“I need to run into town. Do you want to come with me?” If I ask a direct question, he might finally use his words.
“No, thanks. But I’ll see you later.” He kisses my forehead, then walks to his truck. “I’m going over to Matchmaker Ranch.”
That evening, I have meatloaf, potatoes, and green beans hot and ready when Matthew returns. “Smells good. Thanks for cooking.” He’s still not himself, but at least he’s talking.
“How are things at the ranch?”
“Coming along nicely.” He gets out dishes and sets two places at the table. “Was your day good?”
“It was. I met Lilith, Ava, and Joji at the donut shop. Then we shopped at Delaney’s store.”
“Good.” That’s all he says. No mention of Delaney and Eli. No questions about how Lilith, Ava, and Joji are doing. And most telling, no comments about lingerie.
I set the platter of food in the middle of the table. “I bought a couple of things.”
“Great.” He pulls out my chair like always, then heaps food onto his plate. “This smells good.”
And now he’s repeating himself. This isn’t like Matthew at all.
We eat in silence, and the quiet is only shattered when I ask a question. He responds, but our exchanges are far from conversational.
When he’s finished eating, I squeeze his hand. “I’ve got the kitchen. Go relax.”
“Thank you. You won’t be mad if I skip tea and go straight to bed, will you?”
I shake my head but rest a hand on his arm. “When you’re ready to talk, come find me.”
He pulls me in for a hug and holds me to his chest.
I love this man, and seeing him withdrawn and upset has my stomach in knots.