Chapter 42 #2
“Well, I’ve got time,” Matt says. “And I’m not leaving here until I hear it.”
“And you deserve to,” Riley agrees with a solemn nod. “What do you say we move up and sit in the truck? It’ll take a while, so we might as well get comfortable.”
Matt agrees with a reluctant sigh, pushing ahead of us up the path.
We climb behind him in silence, Riley taking up the rear.
When we reach the truck, he drops the tailgate, then hops up ahead of us to retrieve the sleeping bags from his storage box.
He takes his time unrolling and spreading them out in the truck bed, then hops back down and assists me in climbing up into the nest he’s made.
Again, he takes his time in getting me settled, tucking one of the sleeping bags over and around me.
I know a part of him is stalling, fortifying himself to tell his tale once more, but I also recognize the care he’s taking with me, his small way of showing me comfort.
All the while Matt watches, eyes red-rimmed and full of resignation.
Some of the fight seems to have gone out of him, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
Riley settles in beside me, taking one of my hands in his, then gestures with his other for Matt to join us.
He remains, studying us for a long moment, before slowly approaching the truck and perching himself reluctantly on the edge of the open tailgate.
He turns sad, tired eyes on Riley, staring expectantly.
“Right, okay,” Riley nods. “So … the first thing you need to know is I love you.”
Matt snorts derisively.
“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” Riley continues, undeterred. “But it’s true. When I looked into your eyes that first time and just … knew you were mine, I knew then I would do anything for you. And I’ve wanted nothing more than to be in your life ever since.”
“Whatever,” Matt mumbles, but he glances at me, and I catch a glimmer of something in those eyes, so very much like his father’s, that gives me hope.
He turns away quickly, staring back down at his hands in his lap—but it was there.
This time, I’m the one who gives Riley’s hand a squeeze, offering him back some of the strength he’s given me.
“I want to be able to tell you that if I had known about you, I would’ve been here from the start, but …” Riley continues, then pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I can’t.”
Matty looks up sharply, frowning. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but Riley holds up a hand.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t have wanted to,” he clarifies. “But because I couldn’t.”
“Right, sure,” Matty says, voice disbelieving.
“It’s true,” I say quietly.
Riley drops his head forward on a sigh. I watch Matty, watching his father, skepticism and curiosity warring on his face. Riley looks up, and they lock eyes, holding each other’s gazes when he says, “I literally couldn’t for many years because I was in prison and then on probation.”
Our son rears back, eyes widening at those words. He bites his lip, leaning forward with a look of resolve.
“Okay.” He finally nods. “Tell me everything.”
At some point during Riley’s story, Matt decides to join us in the truck bed, climbing in and slowly inching closer as we talk.
We huddle under the blankets with our son as dusk falls, just as we’d done so many times before when it was only the two of us.
At one point, Matt goes so far as to take my hand in his.
I know it’s a gesture made in solidarity for the heartbreak his father put me through all those years ago, but it has my hopes soaring, nonetheless, with the belief that we might actually find our way through this.
Now, as Riley’s tale comes to its conclusion, I stare down at our joined hands—one of mine in Matty’s, and the other in Riley’s.
Silence falls on the ridge.
The breeze from earlier has stopped, and it seems even the crickets are holding their breath as we wait for a response from our son. He clears his throat, drawing my gaze. Pale eyes blink away tears, but I see in them acceptance now, and understanding.
“Do you have any questions?” Riley asks. “Or … anything you want to say to us?”
Matt’s head dips slowly in assent.
Riley and I exchange a look.
“Alright, let us have it.”
“Well, what I’m hearing is …” he trails off, his voice raw from his earlier yelling. He clears his throat again, and we both lean forward, bracing ourselves for whatever our son might have to say and ready to take it after this day of revelations.
“What I’m hearing,” he repeats, “is that Uncle Aidan is my actual uncle.”
I stare at our son, startled for a minute, his unexpected words rattling around my head in a way that makes them difficult to compute. Riley is silent beside me, and a quick glance at his furrowed brow tells me he, too, is taken aback by the comment and unsure of how to respond.
Then, ever so slowly, Matty’s lip tips up in the corner.
Riley lets out a huff of breath that’s part laughter, part annoyance, causing Matt’s mouth to curve up into an actual smile, small though it may be.
It gives me permission to let out my own whoosh of breath that turns into a giggle as I shake my head in disbelief.
It’s exactly something his father would do—has done—cracking a joke to inject some levity into a difficult moment.
“Fucking Aidan,” Riley mumbles, and Matt chuckles.
He chuckles.
Soon, we’re all laughing—wheezing for breath, and tears streaming down our faces, not because it was that funny, but because we all need the emotional release.
When I’m finally able to catch my breath, I lean back into Riley’s waiting embrace. I dig through my purse for tissues and pass them around as Riley continues to grumble about his ‘golden boy’ brother and how he’s had about enough of the Aidan hero worship.
“Don’t think this means either of you is off the hook,” Matt warns, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. “Or that we’re gonna be some … like … insta-family or anything. It’s a lot to wrap my head around. It’s gonna take time.”
I nod my understanding, and with my head resting against Riley’s shoulder, I can feel him doing the same.
“And you better believe Alex is going to make your lives miserable when he hears about this,” he continues, and I know that to be true, too. “But …” he lets out a slow breath, “we’ll get there.”
And with his final words, I feel that last bit of weight I’d been carrying for so long, the insidious part that had lingered, despite Riley’s best efforts, just … lift off …
And float away.