A Better Man (The Men of Halfway House) (18 page)

"I'm sorry," he said as he raced out the door into the night.

Chapter 14

Matt stared out the window and waited. He'd lost track of how much time he'd stood there, hoping Julian's truck would drive up. It was late Christmas Eve, most places were closed, and yet, Julian still hadn't returned home. The drizzle had picked up to a steady rainfall, making the already dark night seem even more depressing.

Hindsight was, in fact, twenty-twenty. Matt thought back to the first few days, the day when Julian mentioned the bed and breakfast excuse. That would have been the perfect opportunity to have been honest. Julian knew he had lied, and still, he accepted the job and stayed. Matt closed his eyes and bumped his head a few times against the edge of the window. He should have just told him the truth.
Shit
.

He knew why he hadn't. Telling him about the halfway house would trigger the next question—how'd you get that idea? His fear of Julian walking out on the job had evolved into his fear of Julian walking out on him and their budding relationship. After so many months, the non-truth just became easier to hide.

"Hello, I'm Matt. I did time for embezzlement and insider trading but it wasn't really me. I lied so my brother wouldn't do time," he said aloud in a mocking tone. A lie was the reason he had done time and another lie was the reason he was standing by the window, waiting and hoping Julian would come back home and still want him.

The real Julian, the man he loved, was not the same smart-ass who came to that job interview. The guarded one, the one who didn't let things get to him. That was the Julian everyone else saw and knew. The real Julian was understanding, tender, and non-judgmental. Either version would have listened to Matt and not held his past against him.

Yeah, hindsight was twenty-twenty.
Hindsight is a bitch
.

Thunder began to rumble and Matt had to step away from the window. He couldn't bear the thought of Julian out there in this weather in his distraught state. Julian was the one in the relationship with the unwavering strength, and Matt had broken him. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to not dwell on how much pain he may have caused. He'd have to make it right. Julian would have to come back home and Matt would stop him from leaving, even if he had to strap the man down and lock him away.

He crossed his arms as he paced the first floor, absently tugging his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger as he thought of Julian's words. Julian knew all too well the pain of loss. And the thought of Julian losing his brother on the streets just as Matt had lost Liam was too much. Matt let out a shaky breath and knelt on the floor. He buried his head in his hands.

The scars.

Not one scar across his wrist, there were several. As if his father had zigzagged or sawed at his son's wrist. How could someone do that to their child? Had he done it to torture him and leave him scarred for life? Matt pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. He felt sick as a vision of a young Julian gripping his bleeding wrist raced through his mind. Matt's parents may be social climbers with poison in their words, but they wouldn't physically hurt their kids.

He didn't know what he could possibly say to right things. They both had secrets and both seemed to keep them quiet for different reasons—fear, trust, he wasn't sure anymore. He should have given Julian the benefit of the doubt. Should have taken the opportunity to come clean, tell him the entire truth. If he couldn't be honest with him, then how could he think they could actually have a future together? Instead of coming clean, he had managed to reopen a wound for Julian he probably tried with every fiber of his being to keep closed. It was obvious to Matt that Julian tried to open up to him.

"Fuck," Matt yelled out. Christmas Eve wasn't supposed to be like this.

He walked purposefully into their room. He spotted Julian's wallet still sitting on the small table. The same wallet that had triggered his return when he heard the phone call would cause him to return again. It had to. He needed Julian to come home so he could fix things, right whatever had broken between them.

He clutched the wallet tightly against his chest and sat at the foot of the stairs so he could see both the front and back door. Julian would come back, he had to. He would have to deal with his mother for missing Christmas lunch tomorrow, but Julian and salvaging this thing between them was more important. With Julian by his side, he'd be able to deal with anything.

His chest tightened at the thought of Julian's absence. No, he'd come back. He couldn't lose him. He gasped for air and clutched the wallet tighter. He'd tell him anything, everything he'd want to know if he'd just stay.

He sat at the foot of the stairs and slowly rocked back and forth. He hadn't ever believed in Christmas miracles.

Tonight, he prayed for one.

* * * *

Julian parked his truck off on the side service street and made his way to the entrance. The rain fell harder and thunder rumbled in the distance. He wasn't sure why, but he had only one place he felt he could go. When he arrived at the gate, the entrance was locked. He rattled the iron door even though it was pointless.

"We're closed," he heard a voice say.

Julian looked for the source of the voice but the darkness and the rain made it difficult to see and hear clearly.

"Please, just for a few minutes," was all he managed to say past the tightness in his throat. His body shook. He didn't know if it was from the cool breeze that blew over his wet skin or if he was falling further and further into the darkness.

A man appeared from the side of the entrance. "We closed a few hours ago, you can come back after Christmas," the older man said, coming up to the gate.

Julian shook even more. He couldn't wait that long. He couldn't go back home, couldn't face Matt. He didn't know what to do or what to say. He had fucked things up so badly, there was no turning back. He was alone, more alone than he'd ever been in his entire miserable life.

"Please," he said in the last bit of voice that escaped his clogged throat. He couldn't breathe, he tried to take a breath and felt the effort in his entire body, thankful for the grip on the gate that held him up.

The man assessed him. "I'm going to do the rounds one last time, then I'm leaving," the man said as he unlocked and opened the gate. "You've got until then. Understood?"

Julian quickly nodded then sprinted to his only place of solace. Even though it was dark and raining, he knew exactly how far he needed to run before each turn. He finally arrived and dropped to his knees, not caring that the ground was saturated from the rain.

"I fucked up," he whispered as he buried his face in his hands. Emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in so long finally came along in waves, weakening him. "I fucked up," he croaked and finally looked up. He extended his hand and touched the cold, wet stone, softly caressing the etched name, "Marie."

A rush of memories filled his mind. The way his mother sat with him to help with his homework when he didn't understand, how she would explain why the other children's cruel words weren't true, or how he could grow to be a smart, strong, good man regardless of the hurtful words his father spoke. She would explain in that special way of hers that always seemed to get through to him when no one else could. Her endless patience, compassion, and caring nature always made sure he could understand the things he missed.

He needed that now more than ever.

He felt lost.

A surge of grief overtook him, the loss of his brother, his mother, and now Matt. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and didn't want to. He'd dealt with loss before. At the age of fourteen, when his mother died, a piece of himself had died with her. She was the person who tethered him to this world, protected him, guided him, made sure he stayed strong, made him feel safe, appreciated, loved. When she died, that died with her.

He had felt a void until Matt came along and filled the part of his soul that had been vacant for far too long.

And now he was gone too.

He didn't know what else to do, where to go, and he blindly reached for the lifeline he had, even though he knew she was gone. He was so cold. He wasn't sure if it was the rain hitting his skin, the wet clothes, or simply this feeling of losing himself that caused him to tremble and his teeth to chatter. He huddled closer, pressed his cheek to the gravestone. At least he felt something, even if it was cold and hard.

He was still here, in this world.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember as he trembled until the darkness took over.

Everything happens for a reason.
Julian heard his mother's words.

Her words, not her voice. He opened his eyes and realized it was dark, and he was wet, in a fetal position at his mother's grave.

"Hey, kid, I've got to close up."

Julian looked around for a few seconds, gathering his bearings. He remembered getting here, the rain, the desperation. He didn't know how much time had passed. He looked up to see the look of concern in the man's eyes. The rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared, allowing the moon to cast some light in the night. He sat up against the headstone, making that last bit of contact.

"Did you say something?" he asked, still a bit dazed.

"Yeah, I've got to close up," the man repeated.

"No, before that," Julian wearily corrected.

The man ran his hands through his hair in the same manner Matt did when he was nervous or frustrated. That caught Julian's attention.

"I thought you were asleep or passed out," the man started. "I said however bad it was, everything happens for a reason, but sometimes, we just can't see it at that moment."

Julian looked off to the side, sorting his thoughts. His mother's words,
everything happens for a reason
. He never understood why she held on so tightly to that principle, but she did, even when she was getting beaten by that sonofabitch who had fathered him. She always said it was that bastard who gave her two children she loved more than her own life. She had found the positive in that clusterfuck of a marriage. His mother's words coupled with seeing the man run his fingers through his hair just like Matt unsettled him.

"C'mon, kid." The man's words broke into Julian's thoughts. The groundskeeper extended a hand to him.

Julian looked over to the stone with his mother's name on it.

Everything happens for a reason
.

He knew his mother had stayed because of him and his brother; she had tried to get away once, what happened after…she swore she'd never try it again. He never understood why he'd had to deal with so much as a child. His mother didn't have an answer for it. She had only promised him that one day he would understand why she stayed and hoped he would find it in his heart to forgive her. She called him her strength and reassured him that one day, when he was older, Julian Capeletti would become a strong and compassionate man in spite of his father.

He looked back over to the man's outstretched hand and took it to help himself stand. He stretched his cramped muscles, realizing he must have been huddled in that position for a while.

"C'mon, kid, time to go home. Christmas is in a few hours," the man said as he started to walk back toward his service truck parked on the narrow road a few steps away. "I'm sure there's got to be someone who's thinking about you right now," he yelled over his shoulders.

Julian turned one last time, kissed his index and middle finger then touched his mother's name. "I love you, Mom," he said quietly before making his way to the path to leave.

Someone either had a really sick twisted sense of humor, or maybe there was some reason he was still here. If everything did in fact happen for a reason, then there was somewhere he needed to be and try to make things right.

* * * *

Julian drove up to the house and sat in his truck for a few minutes, not really knowing what to expect after what had happened earlier. He figured Matt would be asleep by now—if he was still home—and wouldn't want to see him or hear anything he had to say. He couldn't stand the thought of Matt having any regrets about hiring him or being with him. He rubbed his clammy hands together to try and warm them as he felt a chill travel his body. He gripped the steering wheel and rested his head on his hands as he debated what he should say or do.

He'd have to talk about his past at some point if he planned on having any sort of relationship with Matt, but it was just too tough. If he had any doubt, tonight had cemented that idea. He was a private person, but that was a preservation instinct. If people would fuck off and mind their own business, he was fine. Keeping everyone at arm's length allowed him to push the memories aside and go about his business, never getting close enough to anyone to merit opening up. Matt was different. His instincts told him he could make this work with Matt if he tried, but the thought of seeing pain or pity looking back at him just stung.