Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
MATTHEW
“Trouble.”
My fingers squeeze her shoulders, my skin burning from the simple touch. My throat feels tight, mouth dry, as I just stare at her, unable to believe this is real.
That she’s real.
Jessica Richards is even more gorgeous now than when we were teenagers.
Her light-brown hair is streaked with gold.
It’s pulled into a ponytail, a few strands falling in waves around her face.
A soft layer of freckles is still scattered over her nose and cheeks, reminding me of once upon a time when I’d spend hours staring at her, trying to count the small dots on her face.
It was something she hated, but I relished it.
Relished her natural beauty. Relished the fact that my attention made the color spread over her cheeks.
But now she’s pale, those big amber eyes wide.
The coffee cup falls from her hand and spills on the floor. The hot brown liquid splashes over my feet and jeans.
Fucking hell.
“Are you—”
“I—” She shakes her head, taking a step back. My hands fall by my sides, fingers curling and uncurling. “I’m s-sorry.”
With that, she walks around me and slips outside. I turn around, my lips parting, but no words come out. I watch her all but run across the street, as if the devil’s at her heels, and slide into a white SUV, not once looking back.
Cursing under my breath, I drag my hand over my face and then slip it through my hair before letting it fall.
Jessica Richards is still here.
In Bluebonnet Creek.
Still hauntingly beautiful.
Equally unreachable.
And yet, I’m unable to look away from the spot she was in only moments ago, her image still vivid in my mind.
A loud clatter snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn just in time for another body to slam into me, but this time, arms wrap around my neck, squeezing tightly as the familiar scent of roses hits me. Memories of my childhood come flooding back.
“You’re home.”
My body tenses at my sister’s words.
Home.
This place hasn’t been my home in so long.
That’s because you chose for it to be that way, the little voice at the back of my head taunts, but I push it back along with all the other insecurities that have been swirling inside me since the moment I decided to pull the trigger and come back to Bluebonnet Creek.
It’s the last place I wanted to go.
The place I swore I’d never step foot into. Not again. And yet, when Becky called me and told me that Chase was shot, I couldn’t not come.
Becoming a police officer wasn’t just so I could atone for what I’ve done, but also so I could protect the people I love. There is no way for me to do that if I’m not here.
I put in a request for a transfer the same day, and considering how desperately they need more law enforcement in small towns, it didn’t take long for it to be approved.
So here I am.
Back in my hometown.
Of my own free will, no less.
“You’re standing in the pool of coffee.” I push the words out through the knot lodged in my throat.
“I don’t care,” Becky whispers.
Stubborn woman.
Sighing, I tighten my hold on her, squishing her body closer to mine. I let myself bury my head in the crook of her shoulder and inhale deeply. Although it’s been years, she’s still the same. Headstrong, overbearing, infuriating. My biggest supporter, and the only constant in my life.
Becky pulls back, and for a second, I catch a misty hue over her brownish-green irises before she blinks it away. My chest squeezes as I lower her down to the floor, away from the mess I created, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her watchful gaze.
I didn’t know what to expect when I came back here, which was part of the reason I didn’t tell anybody I was coming in the first place.
Anger and resentment, probably. Nagging about staying away, definitely.
But this… the relief, the love, on my sister’s face?
Yeah, I didn’t see that coming. Not after everything I’ve put her through over the last few years.
Guilt slams into me, making panic clasp at my insides, but just as it’s about to take hold of me, Becky slaps me over the head before crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze throwing daggers at me.
It’s her bossiest don’t-you-dare-mess-with-me look.
I saw it one too many times during my teenage years when Becky was more like a mother to me.
“Matthew James Williams!”
I wince at the use of my full name. When my older sister pulls the middle name card, you know shit’s hit the fan.
“What the hell was that?” she grinds out.
Fuck.
She’s not asking about me being here, that’s for damn sure. Nothing escapes Becky’s attention. I suppose you could say it was a run-in with my past… friend? Is that what we were? Ex-classmate? Fuck if I know.
Then again, I couldn’t have exactly known that I’d collide into her the moment I stepped foot into this town. Or at all. I didn’t expect her to be so… her. I didn’t expect her. Period.
“I’ll help clean it up.”
Becky harrumphs. “That’s not an answer.”
Maybe not, but it’s the only answer I’m willing to give her.
“I’ve got it covered.”
I shift my gaze over my sister’s shoulder to find a short-haired brunette coming our way with a bucket and a mop. She flashes me a soft smile, and I narrow my gaze as I try to put a name to the familiar face.
“It’s fine, Rose, he can do it.”
Rose?
As in Rose Hathaway?
The same Rose who Becky used to curse at all the time, swearing she’s her archnemesis?
My sister takes the mop from her and shoves it into my hand. “He should get used to cleaning up his messes; apparently, he’s going to need it.”
Ouch.
“So much for the warm welcome,” I mutter as I take the mop. Crouching down, I grab the fallen cup, the stupefied expression on Jessica’s face coming back to the forefront of my mind once again.
“Considering you didn’t deem it important enough to let anyone know you were coming home, you can’t blame us for not giving you a better welcome.”
Shaking my head, I push to my feet and toss it into the garbage. “I guess there is that.”
Becky’s arm slips around my waist. “I’m glad you’re home, though. How long are you staying? I hope you’ll at least be here for Jackson’s birthday.” She gives me a pointed look. “He would love to meet his uncle.”
“He’s one. I don’t think he even knows what an uncle is.”
“Maybe not.” She pokes me on the side. “But he understands love. And I want my son to know his family.”
Family.
Bile rises in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
Would she still look at me the same way if she knew the truth? Want me to be near her son? Her son, who is named after our father. A man who will never get a chance to meet him. Because of me.
“So how long do we get you for?”
“Actually…” I clear my throat and brace myself for her reaction. In hindsight, I should have probably figured this out earlier, but I was always more of a do-it-and-see-what-happens kind of guy. “I’m back for good.”