Chapter 45 – Mattie
Since returning home last night, Mattie had floated in her own world, lost in memories of Wally’s cruelty, and her near strangulation by Wally, Jr. The sexual assault was merely a blip and more mortifying because Grant saw her so exposed.
Otherwise, she’d been subjected to worse by Wally, Billy, and Eric.
Despite how Mama tried and what almost everyone believes, Mattie wasn’t closely monitored.
She was one of the MC princesses but her father was a troll, the evil king trapping Mattie and Mama in the ivory tower. Rory was his heir apparent.
Mama wasn’t protected from those two. It made sense that she thought Mattie’s ‘sisterhood’ with Rebel and Harley protected her. Unfortunately, that was the biggest flaw.
Rebel had learned to sneak and had helped Mattie to do the same.
Harley always declined Rebel’s offer to cover for her if she wanted to spread her wings.
At one time, Mattie believed Rebel assisted because she’d stopped liking Daddy long ago.
After all, Rebel never took advantage of what she could do.
Part of Rebel’s assistance in Mattie’s escapades was because of one Mr. John Peter Donovan. But she’d gotten the reason Rebel didn’t participate completely wrong when it should’ve been so clear.
It was because of Diesel. Until the day Rebel decided to sneak into the forest with Mattie, she’d resisted because of her crush on Diesel. Even her acceptance was because of Diesel.
All the experience she’d gained by helping Mattie would serve her well. Or ruin her.
Nothing good would come of Rebel’s obsession. Diesel wasn’t good. Her cousin claimed to know that, but Mattie wasn’t so sure.
Rebel refused to listen to Mattie, though. Instead, she suggested she sneak to meet Grant and try to talk sense into him.
No matter how much Mattie resisted, Rebel came up with a new argument. Her final one changed Mattie’s mind.
Rebel: I talked to Grant. Pop is giving him until Monday to come to his senses, then he’s cutting him off, throwing him out of the house, and having him banned from the property.
Grant had been a friend to her, so Mattie was determined to return the favor.
Close to ten p.m., Mattie opened her door and peeped into the hallway.
Just as it had been all day, the house was as silent as she imagined a tomb might be.
It wasn’t Mama’s day to bring the girls to school, so Mattie had eaten breakfast alone.
Rory was lost in shithead land and whoever drove the passenger van with the younger kids usually left a little earlier to make sure everyone got to the proper buildings.
If Mama wasn’t driving Mattie, Rebel, and Harley, JJ usually hopped a ride in the van.
Aunt Ophelia should’ve dropped the three of them off, but it ended up being Uncle Stretch, while Aunt Meggie picked them up. Returning home, Mattie found the house much the same—silent, depressed, even more miserable than usual.
She hadn’t even heard Blade. Scared something had happened, she’d raced to the nursery and found Ella reading a toddler’s version of A Midsummer’s Night Dream to Blade.
Her little brother’s happy scream when she walked in made Mattie laugh and she’d taken him to her room, so they could watch cartoons.
When Mama got home from work, she checked on Mattie, kissed Blade, then went to her room and never reappeared.
Mattie ate in the nursery with Blade, freeing up more time for Ella to do whatever else needed to be done.
She had homework, so she’d bid her little brother a good evening, then went to her room, ignoring Rebel’s texts until her lessons were done.
Now, Mattie raced across the hallway to the staircase, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. Usually when she snuck, it was from the clubhouse or Uncle Christopher’s house, and always with Rebel’s guidance. She wasn’t sure what she’d gotten herself into on her own.
She heaved in a breath and froze, gripping the banister. The staircase disappeared into the darkness. She could fall and break her neck.
If she was caught, she’d be grounded for life. What was she thinking? She didn’t have a father like Uncle Christopher. He might kill whoever—Diesel—and ground Rebel, but he’d never turn against her.
Her phone beeped and she cringed. This was such a bad idea.
She stepped backwards onto the landing. She’d call Grant and tell him their meeting was off and text Rebel and tell her to meet Grant herself.
But she was so lonely in her room with only bad memories to keep her company. Blade was asleep, Rory hated her, and JJ was indifferent.
Swallowing, Mattie forced herself to go down the staircase.
She was in her bare feet. Shoes were too noisy.
Somehow, she made it to the first floor without breaking her neck.
Unlike at the Caldwell house, this one was almost pitch black at night.
Aunt Meggie hated the darkness, so Uncle Christopher accommodated her by having dim lighting at the very least, 24/7.
As long as Mattie walked a straight line, she wouldn’t run into one of the hallway benches, but the darkness was so disorienting, it left her dizzy.
Jesus Christ. How did the Victorians survive? No, wasn’t gas lighting a thing back then? Mattie was almost certain it was introduced in the early 1800s in Regency London.
The phone beeped again and Mattie gritted her teeth. Either she had to use her flashlight or she was doomed for failure. Besides, she needed to check if Grant had changed his mind.
Grant: Where are you, Matt? I’m at the stream as you directed.
Grinning, Mattie’s heart fluttered. He was waiting for her.
Mattie: I’m on my way.
With a new sense of urgency, Mattie flipped on the flashlight and ran down the hallway, veering off into a little used sitting room at the end. The door creaked as she opened it, and she froze, expecting someone to come running and check the noise.
Nothing.
Closing the door as quietly as possible and cursing that stupid noise, Mattie held her phone high above her and tipped to the window. It squeaked open, in need of oiling as much as that door.
Sweat beaded her skin and she halted, lightheaded, barely able to catch her breath. Expecting to be discovered and yelled at. Berated.
Hiking up her nightgown, this one mint green, Mattie threw one leg over the sill and then the other. The cool air swept over her legs, freeing something inside her.
Giggling, she slid to the ground, landing in a pile of leaves. The drop wasn’t far, so she remained on her feet. Not wasting time, she took off running, allowing herself a wide berth to dodge the motion activated lights.
Daddy worried about anyone too close to the house. Mattie appreciated the oversight. Why he didn’t want to catch intruders before they reached the property, she didn’t know.
The cold grass against her feet jolted her, but she ran fast enough to generate heat, so the chilly night air didn’t bother her.
She didn’t see Grant until she was right up on him and her momentum sent her flying against him. She knocked him over and sprawled on top of him. Scrambling back and giggling wildly, she dusted herself off and stood.
“That was quite the entrance,” Grant said dryly, popping to his feet, none the worse for wear.
The stream was nearby and the flowing water was a gentle murmur in the tranquility of the night. With spring upon them, the forest was slowly awakening with the sounds of creatures.
“You could’ve called me to let me know you were close and I could’ve met you halfway.”
“The lights would’ve gone off,” she said, giddy from her escape. “I would’ve been caught.”
“What does that mean?”
Realizing she’d dropped her phone made her sigh. She couldn’t turn on her flashlight and see Grant’s handsome face.
“It means I snuck out.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully, then bounced up and down, and clapped her hands. “And I did it. No one caught me.”
Grant laughed. “Congratulations.”
Preening, she gave her most elaborate curtsy, though it went unappreciated because it was so dark. “Thank you, sir.”
“Since we’re on borrowed time, tell me what’s up. Are you okay? You aren’t thinking about hurting yourself, are you?”
She had been vague about why she wanted to see him, but she didn’t mean to worry him. “I should’ve told you that this wasn’t about me. It’s about you. I’m sorry if I worried you.”
His entire demeanor changed. Instead of the friendliness she’d detected, tension wafted from him. She raised her hands, all her pleasure deserting her.
“What about me?”
She couldn’t read his mood because his tone was so monotone.
Swallowing, she stepped back, wondering if she’d anger him.
But no. Grant wasn’t violent like Wally, his father, Billy, Eric, or even Bash, though last night, Bash seemed completely different than when he’d found her at Turn Creek.
His presence had momentarily frightened her.
However, he acted as if she didn’t matter one way or the other.
“What do you want to say, Matilda?” Grant snapped.
“Uh, n-nothing. Never mind. I—”
His hand landed on her shoulder and he squeezed gently. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m being an asshole. We’re friends, so tell me what you have to say.”
“It’s just, uh, d-don’t throw away your life to cook meth.”
Grant sighed. “Roxy is devastated. Unlike my dad, she has been trying to understand my reasoning.”
“Lolly would. Because of Uncle Mortician.”
“She asked me if I knew how to roll a joint.”
Mattie doubted it. She was more experienced than he was. Grant had always been a good guy and on the straight-and-narrow until he came up with this boneheaded plan. “Do you?”
“No.”
“Do you even smoke?”
“I’ve had weed before.”
“A lot of the prospects and probates use coke,” Mattie told him.
“I thought they were one and the same.”
She shrugged. “For now, but they are actually two different stages on the road to full patch. Rebel, Harley, and me researched it.”
“Even if you all won’t be able to join the club?”