Young Revelations (Young Series) (37 page)

I laugh as I imagine Matthew doing just that to celebrate his son’s unexpected birth.

“And since you’ve been back, he’s been in that mood again,” Jessica goes on. “The one he was in when he first met you. It’s made for a very pleasant work environment, so thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” I say wryly. I almost want to ask her what sort of mood Matthew’s been in lately, but I probably don’t want to know. And it’s probably something I should ask Matthew himself. I pick a different subject. “Did Mark tell you he and I had lunch the other day?”

She nods. “And admittedly I wasn’t all that thrilled about it,” she admits, “but when he told me who you were, I wasn’t worried.”

“Why?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

“I’ve seen you with Matt a couple times,” she tells me quietly, leaning in a little. “And any woman who looks at her man like that isn’t interested in anyone else. It’s the same for him, that look. I think I’d do almost anything to get that look from Mark.”

We both glance over to the man himself and find him being teased by his aunt over his choice in television shows. Danny is defending their selection while Bonnie rolls her eyes at both of them. As though he knows he’s being watched, Mark looks over at us, his eyes resting briefly on me before turning to Jessica. And for the first time, I think I understand what people mean when they talk about the dopey looks Matthew and I exchange on a regular basis. It’s very cute. “I don’t think you have to wait too long for that,” I tell her.

She gives me a grateful smile. “What I was actually trying to say and probably ended up seeming like a stalker or something is that
I
don’t know what’s going on with you and Matt right now, though it’s obvious something isn’t right, I really hope it works out for both of you,” she says sincerely.

I look over her shoulder as Matthew himself returns to the living room and gives me
that
smile, the one Jessica was just talking about. “I really hope so too,” I reply.

––––-o––––-

Now that the activity in the house has died down considerably, I go in search of Samantha. This entire day has been an exercise in self-control—to keep myself from pressing Samantha against the nearest wall and kissing her to the point neither of us can think straight; to not beat the living shit out of Mark Reilly for merely having the audacity to be in the same vicinity as Samantha; to try and play happy family when my love life is in absolute shambles. It hasn’t escaped my notice that Samantha hasn’t allowed us to be alone together for more than a minute or so at a time and I have to admit, that hurts a little. I’ve also noticed that she seems to have spent most of today staring at me when she thinks I’m not looking. That takes off the painful edge slightly…

I glance into the kitchen, wondering if she’s already gone to bed despite agreeing to talk with me. But I see movement on the back deck and I smile, knowing I’ve found her. Grabbing my jacket, I head out into the cold night to see Samantha leaning against the deck railing on her arms. I watch her every move as I close the door behind me and see her body tense a little under her puffy coat. Without a word, I walk over and mirror her stance, both of us staring out into the backyard, keeping a few feet of space between us.

“How are you?” I ask quietly, looking out at the jungle gym.

When my eyes dart sideways, I see her shrug. “I’ve been worse,” she whispers. “You?”

“I wish I could say I’ve been worse as well, but I’ve been pretty horrible over the last few weeks,” I tell her honestly. “I miss you like crazy.”

She sighs. “I miss you too,” she says, her voice barely above a breath. “I hate that things are like this between us.”

Inwardly, I’m dancing; this is exactly what I wanted to hear. “So do I.” I turn to face her and she’s looking directly at me. “I want to fix this,” I say. “Desperately. I want to fight for you and I will do whatever it takes to win.” I try to figure out what that expression on her face means, but for once, I have no idea what she’s thinking. It surprises me how disconcerted I feel at that realization. “I know I haven’t done much to show you how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate you. I’m trying to work on that.”

“Matt, showing how much I mean to you isn’t the issue,” she says quietly. “I know you love me; I’ve never doubted that. The real issue between us is communication and trust. I’m just as guilty as you for everything we’re lacking, I admit that. But when it’s both of us not communicating or not trusting, it makes everything that much worse. I need to know when I tell you something—whether it’s life-threatening as the issues with Natalie, or every day things—you’re going to trust me and have my back. And I don’t know if it would have made a difference had you believed me about Natalie—Tyler might have still been taken—but at least I would have known that my words mattered to you.”

That hurts. And as much as I want to argue her points, to say her words matter to me above all else, I know I can’t argue. That day it took me almost until the moment I got word about Tyler to realize she was right, or at least that she is the one I should trust more than anybody else in my life.

“Can I ask you something?” she says suddenly and hesitantly. “And have you be absolutely honest with me no matter whether you think it might hurt me?”

I wonder if there is a possibility of words being more frightening than the ones she’s just spoken. “Of course,” I say quietly.

She waits for a few moments, getting her words in order, then takes a deep breath and turns to face me again. “Is any of this because of some sort of resentment towards me about leaving five years ago?”

And we’ve reached the crux of the problem, at least according to Dr. Morris. “Partly,” I say slowly, hating myself for everything that is about to come out of my mouth. “I realize how unfair that is to you, considering it was a mutual agreement between us, but lately I’ve had to face everything and figure out why I can’t seem to get past certain things.”

“You do know I wasn’t happy leaving, don’t you?” she whispers. “Those five years were miserable for me. I survived only because I had Tyler; if I hadn’t had him, I don’t know what shape I would be in right now. Leaving you affected me worse than losing my mother and that’s not an exaggeration. Somehow I got myself to the point that I could function again and fake my way through the day-to-day. I was with Tom, and I know that hurt you when you found out, but my other option was to go back to the farm, maybe get a waitressing job at Chet’s again. Given where you and I met, I couldn’t face that again. I told you before Tom took care of us; without him…” She shakes her head and shrugs. “I told you in that letter I wrote you how much it hurt that you never came after us. I still feel that way. I could tell you how upsetting it was for Claire to tell me about Natalie and all the others you dated while I was gone, but I have no right to be upset. We were both convinced that was it for us, and we had to do whatever we could to get on with our lives. I never stopped loving you, never stopped thinking about you, never stopped missing you, especially every time I looked at Tyler, and all I ever saw was you staring back at me.”

I take a deep breath. “I think what I resented most was that the tickets I paid for would have taken you and Ty to your brother. Then Leo comes home and tells me you traded them in for tickets to Omaha. It took me a while to figure out what could possibly take you there, and when I did figure it out…” I have a flashback to that reaction and all the horrible thoughts I had about Samantha. “Let’s just say I wasn’t convinced the two of you were merely friends while we were married.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and I know she’s figured out what I thought at the time. “I suppose I could see that,” she says slowly. “It certainly wasn’t the case and I had intended to stay with Tom only long enough to get myself in order, then I was going to figure out something else.”

It doesn’t escape my notice that while we started out discussing us, we’re now discussing Tom fucking Saunders. Will I ever get that prick out of my life? “When I saw you and Tyler with Tom, I couldn’t ever remember feeling so jealous in my life. I never stopped considering you and Tyler to be my family, and I had to watch another man fulfilling my role. I watched my son interacting with another man as though Tom was his father, not me. And I saw the look in Tom’s eyes when he played with Tyler or spent time with you. I wanted to stake my claim for the both of you, but I had no right to do so; we were divorced. You had a new life and it didn’t include me. I intended to send all of you back to Omaha once the danger passed and if that was to be the last time I saw you, I had to make the most of that. The day I overheard your conversation with your brother about how once the situation was over, you would be going home and never see me again, I’ve never felt more hurt. I had to distance myself from you or I probably wouldn’t have made it out in one piece. But with you, I can’t keep my distance. I’ve tried. I have an inherent need to be near you, even if you’re beyond furious with me. It’s always been that way for me, Samantha. My life isn’t worth anything without you.”

Behind us, the sliding glass door opens and we both glance over to see Claire poke her head out. “Hey, Danny and I are headed to bed for the night,” she tells us, her eyes darting to me very briefly before resting on Samantha. “You two going to be okay?”

I look over at Samantha who is looking back with an unreadable expression, then she turns to Claire again. “Yeah, we’re fine,” she says quietly. “Sleep well.”

Claire shoots me what I think might be a warning glance before retreating inside again. I roll my eyes and turn to look out over the backyard again. Samantha and I stand together quietly for several moments until the lights are out in the house and we hear the faint click of Claire’s bedroom door closing. “Do you want to go inside?” I ask quietly. “Where it’s warm…”

Samantha shoots me a ghost of a smile. “Wimp,” she mutters teasingly, bumping into my shoulder as she heads inside. “Can’t even handle a little bit of cold.”

I chuckle, heading for the fridge for the pumpkin pie and raise a questioning glance at Sam. She nods and goes about getting us plates and forks. With the pie and can of whipped cream in hand, I follow Samantha into the living room where Claire or Danny was nice enough to start a fire for us. For a moment or two, we eat our pie in silence and it hits me that for the first time in weeks, I’m completely content and at ease, and I know it’s all because of the woman sitting beside me.

“At the risk of starting an argument,” Samantha says, using her finger to wipe up a bit of the whipped cream on her plate. I watch longingly as she sucks the topping off her finger. She looks over at me as she realizes why I’m practically drooling over the ridiculous desire to be a finger and quickly uses a napkin to clean off the remaining whipped cream. “Claire says you were drinking again.”

I sigh, cutting into my pie and taking a bite. “Like I said,” I begin around my dessert, “it’s been a long, miserable few weeks.”

“Matt,” she says in exasperation.

“I know,” I say, cutting her off before she can lecture. “Though I pretty much depleted the liquor supply at both the house and work, what was left has been dumped down the drain since Claire visited. I was starting to scare myself anyway.”

“How?” she whispers.

Looking over at her, I know I need to be honest, but this isn’t something I want to share with anyone. “There were a few nights that I wondered how much it would take to drink myself to death,” I admit, unable to look away from my plate. “Or I thought about taking the boat out into the middle of the lake and just jumping in. I had other thoughts, but it’s nothing you need to hear.” I only say that because she’s looking at me with such horror in her eyes that she doesn’t even seem to realize she’s about to dump her pie on her lap. I lean over and take the plate, placing it on the coffee table. “I’m not having those thoughts anymore, if you’re wondering. I think I’ve managed to snap myself out of that.”

“Tell me this is about more than just me leaving,” she whispers, her tone begging.

“It’s everything,” I tell her, though I’m not sure how that is supposed to make her feel any better; her ragged breathing suggests she’s bordering on tears. “You’re in no way responsible for my actions, Samantha. That’s all me. Even if you had stayed, I’d still be dealing with losing Leo, and maybe it’s best that you and Tyler weren’t around for that.” Taking a deep breath, I’m determined to get this conversation back on the right path. “I wanted you to know that I’ve been seeing somebody.”

Her brow furrows as she meets my gaze and the only description for the expression currently on her face is one of disbelief and incredulity. Her mouth drops open slightly and she almost looks angry. It takes me a moment of replaying what I’ve just said to realize why she’s reacting this way.

I let out a huff of laughter, shaking my head. “No,” I say firmly. “That is not what I meant.”

She seems skeptical. “You might want to pick better words then,” she instructs me quietly.

“You’re right,” I reply, trying not to laugh at her. I think it would only make her angrier at this point. “What I meant to say is that I’ve been seeing a therapist.”

After a few moments, her expression begins to clear, though she still looks suspicious. “Is this seeing a therapist in a professional capacity or personal?”

I smirk. “Definitely professional,” I say, nodding. “Though my therapist is a woman, she scares the shit out of me.”

“Oh,” she says, turning to better look at me. “When did this start?”