Truth & Tenderness (18 page)

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Authors: Tere Michaels

BOOK: Truth & Tenderness
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Evan’s hands clenched. His gaze was pleading, but Matt drew the line between them. He had to.

“I said I was sorry.”

“You think the flowers work like that?”

“I just thought—”

Matt kicked the bottom of the cabinets, spinning around to block Evan’s face from his view. “You thought ‘I’m sorry’ and some flowers and what? A nice fuck and everything goes back to normal?” Matt slammed the beer down on the counter. “Your old bullshit patterns are not my problem.”

“What about yours?” Evan asked, low and dark.

Matt turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

“Running to—”

Matt put up both hands. “Say it and I pack my bags.”

Evan shut down like a robot with a switch flipped to Off. He sagged in the chair and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh fuck.” He was shaking his head when he sat back up; he got out of the chair slowly. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going the way I wanted it to.”

Matt didn’t say anything. He held his ground, hands flat against the countertop.

“This isn’t about Sherri or you being her replacement. This is my shit that I dragged you into,” Evan said, hands up like he was approaching a skittish perp.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Matt muttered. “That’s on me.”

Evan relaxed. He stopped a few feet from where Matt stood.

“Because it hurt the kids, and that’s never my intent,” he finished. “I’m realizing that I can’t punish you without doing the same to them, and that is bullshit. It’s what my parents did, and I won’t do it with ours.”

The words slipped into his speech so naturally that he felt each one in his chest.

Ours
.

Evan’s face crumpled. “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, and throw the flowers away,” Matt sighed. “I’m going to bed.”

 

 

M
ATT
SHOWERED
for an inordinate amount of time, standing under the blistering-hot water until it ran cold. And then he stood there for a little bit more.

The bathroom smelled like them, the bed just beyond the wall calling him to sleep but not promising him any rest. A hundred years ago, Matt Haight would have packed his shit up and been gone. No—no, he’d never have been here in the first place, putting down roots so deep he didn’t know how to be away and angry or even protect himself. “Not here” felt like a punishment, even if being back in the house was a punch in the gut.

He toweled off, rubbing his face over and over until his eyes stopped leaking.

When Matt opened the bathroom door, he found the bedroom dark, the air-conditioning whirring. Normal, like any other night, Evan a lump on his side of the bed.

Matt had half a mind to storm downstairs, but he couldn’t do it. He imagined the kids waking up to him on the couch, and somehow that hurt ten times as much as getting into bed with Evan.

And when had that ever been an issue?

Matt threw the towel into the hamper, then made the short trek to the bed. Evan didn’t move as Matt slid under the covers. Didn’t speak while Matt thumped his pillows until he found a comfortable groove.

“I’m turning in my resignation tomorrow,” Evan said suddenly.

Matt shut his eyes. “No, you’re not.”

“Not compromising my family for this job—not you, not the kids.”

“Evan.”

“I ruined Sherri’s life and there’s nothing I can do about it,” he murmured. “Not doing it to you.”

Matt willed himself not to move, willed his muscles to stay locked and unyielding, but he had no willpower, no way to stop his hand from sliding across the bed to touch Evan’s hip. “Taking away our careers isn’t going to solve the problem,” Matt said sadly. “We’ll find other ways to hurt each other. That’s what happens.”

Evan sighed; Matt heard him hit the mattress with his fist.

“Whatever I have to do, I will,” Evan said finally, and Matt squeezed his hip in response.

You can’t change who you are
, Matt thought.
And neither can I.

Chapter 19

 

T
HE
NEXT
morning Matt made pancakes. The children looked lighter, happier, with him there. Evan drank his coffee quietly, soaking up the conversation. He didn’t participate, but he kept his eyes on Matt’s every movement.

Matt insisted he not resign, but every passing second pushed Evan to do something. If he looked at his career right now, what was he doing? Was he making a difference? Was he a public relations device with no future except to have his picture taken and his name brought up when someone accused the NYPD of a lack of diversity?

He hadn’t wanted to be a poster child when they first came to him, and yet what was he if not that?

There were three texts on his phone, all from Casper. News outlets wanted to speak to Evan today to discuss his appearance on the news last night. His initiatives and plans for the Midtown Precinct. Evan knew the question they’d all ask, and it had nothing to do with a mugging.

What’s it like being the NYPD’s first out gay captain?

Like being a straight one, except I come home to someone of the same gender
was not the answer they wanted.

Faintly sick, Evan finished his coffee. “I’ll take them to school,” he told Matt at the stove. The kids were in the living room gathering their backpacks, so they had a second of privacy. “It’s going to be a busy day, but I’ll try to call.”

Matt nodded.

Evan didn’t want to leave like this. He touched Matt’s face, stroked two fingers against his jaw before leaning into his personal space. Everything was slow—the lean, the tilt of his head, the wait for Matt to stop him—but their lips touched and Evan felt grounded to the earth again.

Matt slid his arms around Evan’s waist; he kept him close but not tightly held, trailing his palms down Evan’s back.

The kiss felt like a homecoming—a slow flick of Evan’s tongue, the scrape of teeth against the bottom of Matt’s lip. Evan pulled away, searching Matt’s face for something—anything—that told him he could walk out the door right now and still come home to this. Them.

“Come have lunch with me. After one,” Evan said suddenly. The fear poked at him, provoked a breathless request.

Matt closed his eyes, ducked his head to rest their foreheads together. “Yeah.”

 

 

S
O
WHAT

S
it like to be the NYPD’s first out gay captain?

Three interviews, three questions, the exact same wording. Evan gave a politely terse “I’m honored to serve the public,” and Casper pushed for the next question. Evan managed not to quit on the spot.

All morning and afternoon, he thought about Matt. Everything from their first meeting until this morning, every little stupid thing from the bad and terrifying to the beautiful and perfect. The thought that he might lose that like he had once before filled him with a fear he had not experienced for a long time.

And he was a man who had existed in a place of fear most of his life.

I love you.

He texted it once an hour until they were scheduled to meet for lunch.

 

 

“G
OOD
DAY
,”
Casper said as they made it back to Evan’s office. He slid off his jacket, making himself at home in Evan’s visitor chair. “Some of those interviews weren’t entirely hideous.”

“I hate it. I don’t understand how you work with these people all the time,” Evan muttered, going through the stack of messages on his desk. His phone sat front and center, though, capturing a glance from him at least once a minute.

“They’re just doing their job, Evan. Some of them are even convinced their words make a difference.”

“They should write about how people in this neighborhood have it easy.”

“God, please don’t ever give quotes that I don’t preapprove.” Casper looked at his watch. “You want to get lunch?”

“No—thank you, but Matt’s coming and we’re going out.” Evan sorted the stack of papers into two piles: Later and Much Later.

“Oh.”

Evan heard the flat tone and looked up. “What?”

“Nothing. I just thought you two….” Casper looked uncomfortable. “Never mind.”

“You thought what?”

Casper shrugged. The easygoing mood broken, he got up and reached for his jacket. “I should get back to my office. I’ll send you copies of the interviews once they’re up.”

Evan didn’t have time for Casper’s moodiness or his bitterness about his breakup with Tony. He was more interested in saving his relationship than going over the postmortem of someone else’s.

The nasty thought made him flinch a second later. He grimaced. “Casper—thank you for today. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Casper paused in the open doorway, seemingly interested in saying something else, but nothing came out. “See you tomorrow,” he said eventually, then turned—directly into Matt’s path.

The two exchanged muttered greetings Evan couldn’t hear from his desk. He watched Casper hurry away and then Matt walking into his office with a frown.

“Is he always here?” Matt asked.

“He works here.” Evan kept his voice even as he got up. “But he’s gone now. Where do you want to go?”

Matt lifted a bag from Evan’s favorite deli back in Brooklyn. “Let’s eat in.”

They set up their food on Evan’s desk. It was a touching gesture, one that gave Evan hope even as he felt like even more of an asshole because of the flowers.

No thought, automatic.

“Extra pickles,” Matt said, unwrapping Evan’s sandwich.

“Thank you. For this and for coming down to have lunch.”

Matt didn’t look at him, just fussed with the salads and forks, tiny plastic containers of mayo. “Napkin?”

“Matt.”

Their gazes met over the desk, and Evan poured every ounce of sincerity into his smile. “Thank you.”

“Gotta eat,” Matt answered, but Evan felt like maybe they were making progress.

Eventually they settled into the rhythm of them—talking about the kids, Matt updating Evan on everything regarding Bennett and Daisy. Evan shook his head through the entire story, dropping the rest of his uneaten sandwich onto the paper.

“I would never imagine he could do that,” Evan said softly. “He seemed so focused on her, so happy when we were together last summer.”

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The fact that it was a guy—I don’t know. It just pissed me off more. Like, everyone shoves that stereotype in your face if you’ve been with women and men. What if you change your mind? And you tell people that’s bullshit, but….”

Evan heard the note of concern. He felt it himself.

“What Bennett did wasn’t about his sexuality, though. It was a choice to cheat and break his vows.”

“So the hottest woman in the world gives you a lap dance, all you feel is….”

“Embarrassed, because at my last job, I would have had to arrest her.”

Matt laughed. “What about the hottest man in the world?”

“Same answer. I’d hate to have to arrest you,” he said lightly, holding a breath to see how Matt would react to the flirting.

He got an eyebrow raise. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll give you my brownie.”

Evan shrugged, eyeing the small white bag on the edge of their lunch mess. “Brownie for a lap dance?”

“Now you’re just yanking my chain, Cerelli.”

They shared a smile—a secret one. Evan knew what it meant when Matt’s smile curled a certain way, when his eyes took on a mischievous shine. The best part for Evan, though, was that they were in a public place. They were definitely flirting. Playing for a moment’s respite.

Nothing was solved, but God, Evan needed that smile right now.

“Brownie for a lap dance—and then you’ll have to cuff me.” The words didn’t flow in any sort of sexy way. Evan sputtered a little on the word
cuff
and he could feel his cheeks getting warm. He had to look away when Matt hooted quietly.

“You are just the literal worst at sex talk.”

Evan frowned. “I was good at phone… thing.”

“See, when you have to call it a thing….”

They laughed again and Evan felt something settle in his bones.

 

 

“S
EE
YOU
at home,” Evan said when the ringing phone became a constant interruption. It wasn’t a question.

Matt nodded as he gathered up their lunch remains—and stole Evan’s brownie in the process. “I have calls to make when I get back, so I hope you have strong positive feelings about Greek food.”

“That’s fine.” Evan took a breath as he delivered the next bit of news. “It might be late. Eight, eight thirty.”

The bag of garbage dropped into the can next to his desk. Matt’s expression stayed neutral. “Like I said, I have calls. Things to catch up on. I’ll be in my office.”

Evan walked him to the door. The squad room seemed to turn and look in unison before going back to their work. In his head, Evan balanced on a line between public Evan and private Evan—all while trying to make sure his boyfriend was at their home later tonight.

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