Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
MATT
Eight Weeks Until the Guardianship Hearing
Morning, bud. Jordan and I are leaving Switzerland soon. See you at five.
Cole won’t see my text for hours, but I didn’t want to forget once we’re rushing out the door.
I’ve been awake for a while. Long enough that the room’s gone from dark to gray to morning. I’ve spent most of that time staring at Jordan, lost in thought, somewhere between relief, fear, and acceptance.
She stirs beside me, pulling the sheet up higher beneath her chin.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I’ve been trying not to wake her. Trying not to touch her.
But I’m hard as hell, and the longer I lie here looking at her, the closer I’m getting to failing at both.
Last night was…
Christ. Last night was incredible. Completely unexpected, which somehow made it even better.
She told me she loved me. That she’s always loved me. That she’s tired of running.
But she also said she was scared. And those words sit in my mind like poison. One wrong move, one negative headline, one moment of doubt, and Jordan could run.
I don’t know if things will be different this time, but I want them to be. I want to believe we’re not the same two people we were back then. That we’ve been through enough to finally know what’s worth staying for when things get hard.
I guess I’ve always known she loves me. And I hope to God she knows I love her back.
I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Jordan.
Not even close.
I’d jump in front of a train, take a bullet—every cliché thing a hero says he’d do. I’d do all of it without thinking.
And if this is all I ever get? Moments, days, weeks… maybe a few years before she slips through my fingers again?
Then that’s my story.
Because I already know I’ll only ever love one woman.
And it’s Jordan Demetriou.
She grips the sheet tight in her hand and rolls to her other side, taking the sheet over me with her.
I chuckle to myself. She’s always been a blanket hog. She’s a wild sleeper, messy and chaotic, like a toddler.
Yeah, I’m done waiting for her to wake up. Plus, I want my sheet back.
I scoot in close behind her, sneaking my hand underneath the sheet and around her waist, pulling her close to me.
My fingers drift across her stomach while I press long, soft kisses along her back, neck, and shoulders.
She hums. “I could get used to this,” she says, voice groggy with sleep. She angles her head so I have access to her neck and jaw. “This is way better than an alarm.”
She finally opens her eyes, squinting from the one stream of light slicing through the curtains.
“How’d you sleep?” she asks.
“Good.” I keep kissing her, turned on and hard as hell. “I wanna fuck,” I murmur. I don’t bother pretending otherwise. Not with her.
She laughs softly, pressing her ass against me. “Just no mouth kissing. I need to brush my teeth.”
“Don’t need your mouth, babe.” I glide my hand to her breast, kneading gently before sweeping my thumb across her peaked nipple and pinching it.
She gasps, pressing harder into me, and before I know it my hand’s between her thighs and she’s moaning my name, begging for me.
I fucking love when she begs for my cock.
I slide into her from behind, spooning, savoring the way her pussy squeezes me tight in this position.
My hand circles her clit while I drive into her in short, powerful thrusts.
Her eyes shut tight, her bottom lip catching between her teeth.
She’s getting close. I know her cues.
I also know how to make her come faster.
I flick my tongue against her neck, then drag it up the side, kissing along her jaw until I’m at her ear. I suck on her lobe, then whisper everything I’m thinking and feeling, giving her a play-by-play.
“Christ, you feel so fucking good.” My mouth is right against her ear, breath hot, voice low. “I love the way you take me. All the sounds you make.”
“Oh my God,” she breathes. Her stomach tightens against my forearm. “I’m so close.”
“Yeah? You gonna come for me?”
She nods, jaw dropping, eyes squeezing tighter, whimpering.
Jesus. Just watching her has me right there, teetering on the edge.
“Come for me, babe. Squeeze my cock with that tight pussy. I wanna feel you.”
I thrust harder, and she lets out a long, strangled cry.
My orgasm rips through me, and I smother my groan against Jordan’s neck.
She goes soft in my arms, her body melting into me and the mattress. I pull out fast, avoiding friction against the sensitive tip as much as possible. I reach across the bed for the disposable “bedtime” wipes on the nightstand.
I hand two packets to Jordan.
“Thank you,” she says, tearing one open.
I press kisses to her shoulder blade while she cleans herself up. Then she holds the wipes out for me with a grin. “Here you go.”
She laughs when I take them and toss them blindly toward the nightstand.
I fold my body around hers, my lips brushing the warm skin of her neck. Her laughter fades into something quiet and comfortable.
“Last night was… really great,” she says softly.
I grunt in agreement.
She laces her fingers through mine and tucks our hands to her chest. “Should we go eat?”
“Only one thing I’m hungry for,” I mumble against her skin.
She grins. “Still?”
“Babe, that was the longest I’ve gone without sex in twenty years. I’ve gotta play catch up.”
I roll her onto her back. “I’ve been craving you. I’m only getting started.”
I drag my mouth down her chest, hands parting her thighs.
“Now be a good girl,” I murmur, “and spread your legs for me.”
I’m deep in work mid-flight when I get a text from Cece.
Cece
Hey. I don’t want to alarm you, but we had an issue with Cole today at school. He won’t talk to the counselor or the principal. Says he’ll only talk to you.
Oh, fuck.
I type back quickly.
What happened? Is he okay?
Cece
Physically, he’s fine. He was caught skipping class. The friend he was with had marijuana. They don’t think Cole knew about it, but he won’t say a word. I can go into details later if you’d like... I just didn’t want to say anything in front of him when you pick him up tonight.
I let out a heavy breath, glancing at Jordan. She’s passed out next to me on the bed, bundled in blankets, lips slightly parted. She started to fall asleep in her seat until I reminded her of the kinked neck she got last time she did that.
She made me come back here with her. Made might not be the right word—she coerced me. With her hands, her mouth, and a promise to christen the plane. She passed out five minutes after we finished.
I debate waking her up, but decide against it. I can tell her later.
Nothing I can do now, anyway.
Alright. Hopefully he’ll open up to me this weekend. Thanks for letting me know. I really appreciate it.
She likes the message.
I set my laptop aside and scoot down the bed, lying beside Jordan. I stare at the ceiling, thinking about the best way to handle this. It’s not like he did anything crazy. Hell, I’m not sure I even discourage ditching class if it’s only done occasionally. Every kid has to try it. Right?
Shit. I’m not going to be a good dad.
Cece tells me something like this and my first thought is, Big fucking deal? The only thing that actually concerns me is how out of character it is for him. It’s not about what he did. It’s why. That’s what has me worried.
I wonder if Cece has him in therapy. The guardian ad litem suggested it. Maybe I should see if Leo knows someone.
I did therapy for a long time. I started freshman year and went all through high school.
I never told anyone, not even Jordan. When her dad went to prison, she started seeing a therapist at the same office, and she never knew I was doing the same thing.
I’d take her to her appointments, start mine five minutes late and end five minutes early, and the staff treated me like a stranger every time she was there. They fucking loved me.
Maybe I could take Cole to do something fun. Nothing big. I don’t want it to feel like a reward, just time together.
I turn and scoot close to Jordan, close my eyes, and let the hum of the engine quiet my thoughts.
Cole takes a large swig of his lemonade. Who drinks lemonade with a burger? I can’t think of a worse combo.
I’m sitting in a booth at the first In-N-Out to open in Chicago—sleeves rolled up, a double-double and fries in front of me, and Christ… it’s fucking good.
Fast food isn’t part of my lifestyle. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I sat inside a fast-food joint. And right now? I’m loving every minute of it.
Cole’s got sauce dripping down his hand, chill as can be.
Jordan and I picked him up an hour after we landed.
I talked to her about Cole on the flight after she woke up.
We both agreed it would be best if I took him out alone.
I dropped her off at home, and now here I am, a jet-lagged, tired-as-shit thirty-five-year-old eating burgers and fries with my godson on a plastic seat.
“So,” I say after swallowing a bite. “How’s your grandma’s?”
Starting small. Trying to keep it normal.
His happy expression falls, and he shrugs. “It’s fine, I guess.”
I frown. “Just fine?”
“Yeah.”
Jesus, I forget kids suck at conversations.
I pivot to open-ended questions and try to steer things in a positive direction.
“What’s something fun you’ve done with your grandma since you’ve been there?”
He thinks for a minute. “We did a paint night together, watching a YouTube video.”
I don’t know what the hell that means.
“That sounds interesting. Tell me more about that,” I say.
“Grandma set up the family room like an art studio. We each had our own table with paint stuff. She made snacks, and then her and Bill and I watched a YouTube class on how to paint a bird.” He takes a big bite of his burger, and I watch in slow motion as more sauce drips down his hand and onto his shirtsleeve.
“I thought it would be lame, but it was fun,” he says with a mouthful of food. “I liked it.”
I can’t help but smile. “That’s cool, buddy. Sounds like something Jordan and I will have to check out.” I hesitate, then ask cautiously. “And school’s still good?” I try to sound casual, like I’m not poking around. “You still crushing on Abby?”
“I guess.”
Damn.
I debate asking him straight out, but I don’t want to throw Cece under the bus, and I most definitely don’t want him to feel like shit. I know I have to be the parent, but I’m trying to put myself in his shoes here.
I’ve just decided to sit on it a bit longer, talk it out with Jordan, when he takes another bite and asks, “Matt—did you ever ditch class?”
Cool. He came to me.
Shit. He’s asking me.
I’m not one to bullshit, so I answer truthfully. “Sure did, bud. Not a lot, but… yeah. Occasionally. I really hated my English class in high school. Sometimes I’d slip out with Jordan to go hang out. Why?” I ask. “Have you?”
He takes a sip of his lemonade. “Yep. Just once, though.”
“Yeah?” I stay neutral. “What class?”
“English.” His gaze drops to the table, silence following.
I sense there’s more he wants to say, so I wait it out.
Finally, he sniffs and says, “We’re supposed to be writing about our hero…”
He trails off, wiping at his cheeks, staring at his food.
My stomach drops. Fuck.
Nate.
He folds, burying his face in his arms, and lets out a sob.
I’m in the booth beside him in a matter of seconds, hand rubbing his back, tears stinging behind my eyes.
“Fuck, bud.” I know I shouldn’t say fuck.
But holy fuck.
“You’re writing about your dad?” I ask quietly.
He nods, and my chest squeezes tight.
Suddenly, I’ve never felt more like a parent. Because my heart just fucking broke in the middle of a goddamn In-N-Out, watching a kid I love fall apart.
And I haven’t a clue what to say or do to make it better.
Cole’s shoulders shake as he cries.
I sit patiently with him, stabbing a napkin into the corners of my eyes to keep it together.
Part of me wants to tell him it’s okay. Don’t do the assignment. Don’t go to class. It’s fine.
But the other part—the part that missed having a father in these moments, someone to guide me or give words of advice—that part wants to do better for Cole.
He stills, then finally sits up, swiping at his cheeks.
“Hey,” I say. “Why don’t you gather up your food. We’ll go sit in the car and finish.”
We grab the rest of our dinner and head to the Porsche.
Once inside, we eat in silence, aside from the occasional sniffle from Cole. I stare out the windshield, my mind scrambling for some kind of wisdom, anything that might actually help him navigate his grief instead of suppressing it and pretending it isn’t there.
“You know,” I start, not even sure where I’m going.
“Life sucks sometimes. It’s unfair. It’s hard.
” I glance at him. “And there’s nothing we can do about that.
” I swallow. “And your dad dying?” The words catch, and I take a second to breathe through it.
“Shit, Cole… that sucks. It really fucking sucks. It’s not fair. Not even a little.”
His eyes shine, and I keep going before I lose my nerve.
“It’s okay to be mad. Or sad. Or both. Life took the most important person in your world from you.” I turn toward him. “Your hero.”
He nods, sniffing hard.
The silence hangs thick in the air while I gather my composure.
My chin quivers, and I take a slow breath. “He was my hero, too,” I say quietly.
He looks up at me, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“But do you know what life can’t take from you?”
“What?” he whispers.
“How you remember him. How you carry him with you.” I pause. “Every day, you get to decide what his name means moving forward.”
He brings the inside of his collar to his nose and wipes.
“Look, you don’t have to write about your dad for this assignment.
Not if you don’t want to.” I meet his eyes.
“But if you do? I can’t think of a better way to honor him than telling people why he was your hero.
” I nod methodically. “It’s going to be tough as hell.
But if anyone can do it, it’s you.” I hesitate, then add, “I’ll help…
if you want. And I’m always here. No matter what. ”
He takes a moment before he says anything. Then, finally, he says so quiet I barely hear him, “Thanks, Matt.”
“Anytime, bud.” I reach across the console and pat his back. “Now eat up. There’s a spot on your sleeve that’s still dry, and it’s begging to try that sauce.”
He huffs out a sound that’s halfway to a laugh, followed by a small smile.
I don’t know if what I said matters, or if it helped. But I feel closer to Cole than I did five minutes ago, and that’s something I never felt with my dad, growing up.
I watch as he takes a big sloppy bite, and for the first time since Nate died, I think I might actually be able to figure this whole parenting thing out.