Young Truths (Young Series) (11 page)

Put like that, I suppose I can’t fault him.

“And I do realize we have another wedding portrait coming to replace the old one, but...” He shrugs his free shoulder. “It was stupid and I am sorry, and—”

I push away the oxygen mask from his face completely and kiss him deeply. After a moment, his surprise wears off and he kisses me back, twisting his fingers in my hair. It doesn’t last long before Olivia kicks and breaks the moment. Rolling my eyes, I pull away and glare down at my belly, ignoring my husband’s chuckling until it turns into a coughing fit. Panicking slightly when it doesn’t pass immediately, I reach for his oxygen mask and shove it over his face again. His face is practically the color of a stop sign before the coughing stops and he’s breathing easily again.

“I’m fine, Sam,” he chokes out.

I’m ready to start screaming the hospital down for nurses and doctors to come help him, but his color begins returning to normal and he grabs for my hand, squeezing it to assure me he really is okay. I nod and finally sit down again. “No more make-out sessions in the hospital,” I grumble. He smirks at me through his mask and closes his eyes, breathing deeply. All I want to do is sleep right now, but I don’t want to leave him. Anytime I think about what could have happened tonight, I want to put my family in a car and drive us as far from this place as possible. But I know that’s not an option for any number of reasons.

A nurse comes in to check on Matthew and he doesn’t even stir, telling me he’s just as exhausted. She says he’ll probably be out until morning and offers to have an extra bed brought in so I can get some rest of my own. I try to tell her it’s not necessary, but her eyes keep darting to my belly and I know arguing is pointless, especially in a hospital. She nods in satisfaction when I finally agree and I stand up to stretch my legs and consider calling Claire to let her know she can head home for the night. The moment I try to pull my hand from Matthew’s, his grip increases; he’s apparently not asleep as I thought.

“Don’t go,” he begs croakily.

I shake my head, smiling. “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. “I was going to tell Claire she can go home and wait for someone to bring in an extra bed. That’s all. I’m staying with you tonight, then tomorrow when you’re released, we’ll go to Claire’s.”

“No,” he responds.

I raise my eyebrow in question. “No what? No I’m not staying with you?”

“Not going to Claire’s,” he says quite clearly. “We’re going home.”

The smoke must have done some sort of damage to him if he doesn’t remember what happened to our house. And I don’t really want to be the one to remind him, especially if he’s talking while mostly asleep, which seems most likely. “Matt, don’t you remember what happened tonight?” I ask carefully.

He lifts his hand waving this off dismissively. “Apartment in town,” he tells me. “Bought it a few months ago. We’ll go there.”

My eyes widen at this news. He’s never mentioned anything of the sort, though I know now isn’t the time to question him on his apparent secret real estate purchases. Some wives might be immediately suspicious about the reasons their husbands would do such a thing, and I’m no different, though not for the obvious reasons. Then again, I can’t even begin to work out his reasons for doing the things he does sometimes. Case in point, running into a burning house for a wedding portrait.

When my bed arrives, Matthew is fast asleep again. I push it up against his, needing to be near him tonight, and climb under the blankets, curling up on my side facing my husband. Though I expect the beeping machinery to be a problem when I close my eyes, it’s only a matter of minutes before I’m fast asleep again.

“Are you as bad a patient as I always thought you’d be?” Marcus West asks as he enters my hospital room.

When I woke this morning, my entire body ached. Still does, actually, but the nurses gave me some sort of treatment through my oxygen mask that’s starting to loosen my muscles up a bit more. This treatment might be something I have to get used to for the next several weeks until I recover from the shit I inhaled last night. But I think I’ll go through any treatment they have if I get to wake up every morning to find my wife setting up trays with our breakfast. To my surprise, we haven’t discussed the fire at all, though I think that might be because she can’t handle it right now. Or maybe she thinks I can’t handle it right now. Either way is fine for me. We’ll be discussing this for months to come as it is.

I’m finishing off my pancakes when Marcus arrives and I immediately give him the finger for his comment.

“He’s worse actually,” my sweet, supportive wife quips.

I glare at both of them and steal Samantha’s last slice of bacon. “I’m a perfect patient,” I tell them. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Marcus shrugs. “Vacation ended and instead of heading back to work, I’m once again babysitting my favorite multi-millionaire,” he says easily. I beam at him; he raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m talking about you? This guy actually manages to stay out of trouble for more than a week.”

I scowl. “You love me and you know it.” He rolls his eyes. My eyes dart to Samantha. The look on Marcus’s face tells me he wants to speak to me in private, but I don’t want to ask her to leave; I’ve been doing my best to include her in things I would normally keep to myself because I don’t want her worrying. At the same time, though, I don’t think Marcus will approve of talking in front of my pregnant wife—probably because whatever he’ll have to say will involve swear words no one should have to hear.

But as always, Samantha reads the situation perfectly. Smiling, she gets up, presses a kiss to my lips, and tells us she’s going to call Claire and even offers to go get us some coffee from the nearby donut shop since the coffee in this hospital sucks. Almost the moment she’s out of the room, Marcus’s playfulness is long gone and he looks at me grimly. “Seriously, how are you feeling?” he asks quietly.

I shrug. “I’ve been better, but I’m assured I’ll make a full recovery in a week or two. Breathing too deeply makes me cough so hard I feel like I’m going to break a rib. I’m stuck in this shithole and I still have no fucking clue what the status on my home is or what caused the fire.”

“Well, I can help a little with that last one,” he informs me. “The fire was completely extinguished about half an hour after you were taken away by ambulance. Though the investigation is still ongoing and probably will be for some time, it is currently ruled as arson and began in the basement.”

This has my attention. “
In
the basement?” I repeat sharply. “Not near it outside. Not in the main area of the house.
In
the basement?”

He nods. “Yes. We’re still working to discover the ignition point. And the first people I’m looking at are the security team since they’re the only ones who should have had access to the house aside from you and Samantha. As for damage...” He grimaces sympathetically. “Well, you’re going to have one hell of a remodeling job on your hands. Half the house is destroyed from fire, another quarter from a gas generator on your property that blew up. The safety of the foundation is iffy at best and there is every possibility it’s going to be deemed unsafe. Don’t be surprised if it’s recommended that the entire place gets torn down.”

As devastating as that news is, I expected it. “That house does not get torn down until I can regain access to my office and the panic room,” I say firmly. “After that, whatever needs to happen will happen, but those are the conditions.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy, which I probably am at this point. “Did you listen to anything I just said?” he asks. “The house is unsafe, Young. That means that at any point the place could collapse and any attempt to enter or walk around could mean certain death. And I’m pretty sure you risked that already by running into that fucking house—twice, from what I hear. So let’s keep this sort of shit to a minimum, shall we?”

I shake my head. “Trust me, the office will be safe.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because when I built the house, I reinforced it. It’s fireproof, soundproof, anything else proof that you can think of. The floors are supported by steel columns on that side of the house. The stairs might be damaged, but they will hold weight. Nothing in the office will have been touched.”

Marcus stares at me. “Have I ever mentioned you’re out of your fucking mind?”

I smirk. “Once or twice, but I never tire of hearing it.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he mutters. “We’ll check on the office in a few days once everything has had a chance to settle. Not before then. Is that clear?”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that he’s warning me against visiting the house on my own. “Crystal,” I respond. Not that Samantha would allow me to go anywhere near the house right now under any circumstances. “What else have you figured out? I know you’re not here merely because my house caught fire.”

“That’s a big part of it, but you’re right, there is more. The picture of the license plate you sent me last week? I had it checked out—it’s fake, like you suspected. I am, however, looking into other leads. We put out an APB on the car and the fake plates, and a couple nearby gas stations and ATMs have been red flagged for their camera feeds. We think one of them might have a picture of our guy.”

“That is good news,” I say approvingly. “You’ll let me know when you find something?”

“Naturally.”

We talk a bit more—I tell him about the incident last night before the fire when Samantha and Tyler were ushered into the panic room. Like me, he thinks the two things are linked, though neither of us can figure out how. It’s then I find out about yet another incident yesterday morning at the bookstore when Samantha was arriving for work. Apparently she hesitated before entering and asked Dave to take a look around first. The security system had been deactivated already and though nothing was out of place, Samantha felt “odd” for most of the day. Whatever that means. I’ll be discussing it with her first chance I get and asking her why she didn’t call me or mention it last night when we went to bed. Though the answer to that could be as simple as other things took precedent over an odd feeling, I’m not taking it lightly. I think I’ll be looking into tighter security systems at the bookstore. The current ones might have worked while Bonnie owned it—she never had the same threats we do—but now things are changing.

“How’s Samantha handling all this?” Marcus asks.

I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering why he sounds like a concerned older brother. Then I remember Samantha calling Marcus when she was worried about my recent behavior and how Marcus jumped all over me for keeping things from her. “So far, she’s handling it better than I am. She seems to have everything planned and under control, and it’s hardly phasing her that we don’t have a home to go to.”

“She’s a strong girl,” Marcus reminds me. “But she’s also a lot like you from what I’ve seen. She can pretend everything is fine and dandy, but it’s only a matter of time. For both of you. Decide right now whether you’re going to be the strong one in all this. You just lost your home, Matt. Don’t pretend it means nothing to you.”

“I’m not,” I respond sharply. “Believe me, it means something. The memories I’ve made in that house, most of which revolve solely around my wife and son, the work I did on it when it was being built to make it perfect. Marcus, we were supposed to see our children grow up in that house. My daughter’s nursery... we
just
put the finishing touches on it.”

“I know it’s rough. But what’s important is that you and your family got out safely. The rest of it...” He shrugs. “It’s stuff. Once all this clears up, maybe you and Sam can build a new house, one you work on together.”

Can’t say I’ve thought about rebuilding yet, but that does have merit. Maybe that’s something to look forward to. “In the meantime, we’ll be staying in town. The security team is doing a sweep today to make sure it’s clear. But this way, we’ll be closer to the bookstore and I can work from home if I need to. Sam’s only got a few weeks before the baby comes, so I want to be nearby just in case.”

He nods. “I’ll do my own sweeps of the apartment and bookstore. Can’t be too careful, right?”

I’m trying to hide my amusement over Marcus’s newfound protection of my family, not that I’m complaining. It doesn’t hurt to have another set of vigilant eyes. “Definitely not,” I agree.

A few minutes later, Samantha returns with coffee and we spend time just talking until my doctor arrives to check on me. Apparently I’m making very good progress so she informs me I’ll be released within a few hours. I have to have another breathing treatment before I go and those will need to be continued for the next few weeks, but there shouldn’t be any real concerns. I’m grateful to be leaving; aside from not liking hospitals, I’m not a fan of sleeping without Samantha pressed right against me and last night was my idea of hell. While I’d much rather sleep in my own bed in my own bedroom in my own house, for the time being, Marcus is right: we’re all alive and safe, and that is what matters.

Since we left the hospital, Matthew has been quiet. There is no doubt in my mind that it’s because of whatever he and Marcus were discussing before I returned—the moment I walked into the room, I could feel the tension rolling off both men and knew better than to immediately ask what was going on. Not long after Marcus left, the doctor arrived with Matthew’s discharge papers, leaving him with prescriptions for inhalers and instructions to take it easy for the next few days that I know without a doubt he’ll ignore if I don’t enforce it. On the way to the car, which security brought from the house so we’d have transportation, I called Claire and asked her to meet us in town where the apartment is located to drop off Tyler. I’m still not sure why Matthew bought an apartment or even where it’s located—right now he is giving me turn by turn directions and they are the only words he’s spoken since we got into the car.