Young Truths (Young Series) (12 page)

He directs me to a building not far from the bookstore that I’ve noticed a couple times but never thought much of since, as far as I know, it’s never been occupied by a business or tenants. We park in the back and when the ignition is shut off, I turn towards him, raising an eyebrow. He grins slightly. “What?” he asks, clearly already knowing what I’m about to ask.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

With a sigh, he nods. “I bought this building a few months ago,” he begins. “Since I realized you and Tyler were coming back to stay, I knew I needed to do something to make my job a little more family-friendly by taking away as many of the dangers from our lives as I can. I’ve been downsizing a lot of the military contracts, passing them between my father’s firm and others I’ve dealt with in the past. By the time I’m done, my company will have completely revamped—we’re looking to affiliate with computer and toy companies, projects where I don’t have to worry about outside threats.”

I’m staring at him in shock; there has been no indication that he was even considering something like this, but I can’t deny it’s a huge relief. Matthew is incredible in his field of expertise and I know no matter what he does, he’ll excel; the one thing that causes me to pause is that I know how much he loves the thrill of working with government and military agencies. I can only hope he doesn’t end up regretting his decision. “And where does the apartment come into play?” I ask quietly.

“Well,” he says slowly, “my intent was to move my office here so I’d be closer to home and you and the kids. The forty-five minute drive to and from work is getting a little old. I’m keeping my main building, of course, with the labs and my staff, but I’m planning to mostly operate out of this building.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise.

He raises an eyebrow. “Good oh or bad oh?” he asks uneasily.

“Definitely good,” I assure him. “It’ll be nice to have you closer to home.”

He smiles. “I thought so, too. Now, I’m glad I’ve got the place. Originally it was an apartment building and when I bought it, it was furnished. I don’t know what the intent of the place was, but it’s nice. I mean, it’s nothing like our house, but for the time being, I think it’ll serve our purposes.”

I look at the building again. It’s a simple brick structure that looks as though it’s been sitting unoccupied for years on end. Two stories high, large windows, a metal door for the back entrance, and graffiti painted along one side. Not exactly a place where I’d imagine ever living, but I trust Matthew’s judgment; he wouldn’t have brought us here if it weren’t habitable. “Can I see the inside?”

He beams. “Of course. Come on.”

He unlocks the backdoor and holds it open for me, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me inside. The moment we’re in, Matthew reaches over to a light switch and flips on the power, and I get the first look at our temporary home. My first thought is that the outside is very deceiving. The entire building is one huge apartment with an upstairs and downstairs. The floors are wooden and polished. It’s bright and open and the furniture looks brand-new and modern. We’ve entered just beside the large kitchen that so closely resembles the one from Matthew’s house that for a moment I actually forget where we are. A large television is mounted to our left in front of a pair of huge couches arranged in an L-shape. There aren’t any decorations aside from a couple potted plants I think might be fake, but I’m already planning on where I’d like our things to go. Until I remember 98% of our things have probably been burned to a crisp. Pushing that thought aside, I stray from Matthew to get a better look around. There is a ground floor bathroom that looks like it belongs in some posh five-star hotel complete with double sinks, marble counters, a massive shower, and a huge sunk-in bathtub.  

“The bathroom in the master bedroom has a Jacuzzi,” Matthew tells me. I turn around in surprise to find him leaning against the doorframe, smiling lopsidedly. “And the toilet seats are heated. I thought that was a little odd, but might be nice in the winter months.”

I nod my agreement as he leads me back out into the open living area and turns me towards a metal staircase I’m just now noticing. “Three bedrooms,” he says. “And there’s an office area I can work out of for the time being.”

“You were seriously going to use this entire space as an office?” I ask him skeptically.

He shrugs. “For a really big office, yeah,” he answers. “Eventually I’d probably move a couple of my department heads out here so I don’t have to keep running to the main building all the time. What do you think? Too much?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Practically everything you do is too much, Matt,” I remind him. He snorts a laugh. “But I like it. A lot.”

“Even though it’s a little more cramped than the house?”

“Only you would think this place is cramped. Tyler’s going to love it. Plenty of room for him to run around.”

“Come on up, I’ll show you the bedrooms...”

Twenty minutes later, we’re laid out on the king size bed in the master bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Whoever designed the inside of this building clearly had stars in their eyes; there’s no way anybody living in this town would be able to afford whatever ridiculous price my husband paid for it, nor would they be all that interested in anything so fancy. Even for us, it seems a little extravagant, but that’s Matthew...

“You know, most wives would be suspicious about the reasons why their husbands bought an apartment like this,” I say, turning my head to look at him.

He smirks. “Baby, you are most certainly not most wives,” he says amusedly.

“How would you know? You’ve only ever had one,” I remind him.

“True, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t heard horror stories from other men. You know me well enough to know I’ve got no problem turning a place like this into an office building. And that I’d never do anything to risk your wrath.”

My mouth drops open. “My wrath?” I repeat incredulously. “Seriously?”

He chuckles. “There are only three women on this planet that I’m terrified of pissing off—my mother, Claire, and you. Not necessarily in that order. I’ve had you honest to God pissed off at me and it’s not something I ever want to risk seeing again.”

“Smart man,” I mutter. “How are you feeling? Need your inhaler yet?”

Rolling his eyes, he turns on his side to face me. “I’m fine, Samantha. Really. It was just a little smoke. I’ve probably inhaled worse before.”

“I don’t think I’ll be analyzing that. But you heard the doctor; you have to take it easy this week. You need a vacation anyway.”

“Do I?” he asks, surprised.

I nod. “Definitely. How much downtime have you had since November?”

He hesitates, realizing I’m referring to Tyler’s kidnapping and Leo’s subsequent death. We both know he’s thrown himself into his work to keep his mind occupied and distracted from those thoughts. He still won’t talk to me about Leo and I’ve left him be for the most part, but I know from experience how much better you can feel after talking things out with someone. I also know he hasn’t gone through most of the grieving stages. Mostly I’m worried about what happens when everything starts to hit him all at once and afraid of him just shutting down and shutting me out. Now with the fire, I can see that happening sooner rather than later and I’m not looking forward to it.

“I understand what you’re getting at,” he says quietly, “but I can’t just
not
work, Sam. You know that as well as I. I’m dealing with this best that I can.”

“Are you dealing with it?” I challenge. “Or are you just blocking it all out in the hopes it’ll all go away with time? Matt, I’ve been there; it’s not pretty.”

He’s getting frustrated and while the best course of action would normally be to drop the subject entirely, I’ve been holding this in for far too long.

“You can pretend all you want that you didn’t lose your best friend or that someone you trusted completely wasn’t behind all of this, but it’s not going away. I want to help you the way you helped me get past my mother’s death—”

“I wasn’t around when your mother died, Sam,” he snaps. “I didn’t do anything to help you. All I did was take you from your family and give you a different life. Nothing more.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong about that,” I whisper. “You helped me more than anyone. You made me see what I was doing by giving up a life I’d always wanted because I thought I owed something to my family. If you hadn’t come into my life, I’d still be in Iowa working at Chet’s, and miserable as hell.”

His jaw is tensing and I know he’s holding back something he desperately wants to say, but the moment he opens his mouth, we hear a doorbell buzzing downstairs. Sighing deeply, he rolls away from me and gets to his feet. “That’ll be Claire,” he says stiffly. “See you downstairs.”

I watch him retreating and I know I’ve struck some sort of chord, even if I’m not entirely sure which chord that might have been. What I don’t understand is why he refuses to let me help when I know he needs it. He has no qualms about getting me to talk about things that bother or upset me, but when the roles are reversed, his lips are sealed tighter than a bank vault. Granted, it’s gotten better than it was in the past; I only wish he’d realize he doesn’t have to do things on his own anymore.

With my own sigh, I get to my feet and head down to meet Claire and Tyler, hoping Matthew and I can sort this out and that he’ll actually take up my invitation to be his sounding board. He needs it now more than ever.

Already the atmosphere here is thick with tension and I’m not entirely sure how it got like this or how to fix it. I understand I’m getting defensive whenever Samantha asks about Leo or Natalie, or anything related to the things that have been happening to us. I’ve been trying to keep that under control; but clearly I’m not doing a very good job of it. The fact of the matter is thinking about those things hurts like hell and my pride is destroyed whenever I realize how blind I’d been over the years. Maybe I just don’t want to admit that to my wife, though I’m sure she’s worked it out by now. And as much as I hate seeing her hurt whenever I shut her down, I’m just not ready to talk about any of it with her.

Claire is clearly impressed with the apartment, as is Tyler, who, the moment he enters, begins running around like a little madman with Bandit on his heels as always. She doesn’t stay longer than it takes to ensure I’m feeling okay and to talk briefly with Samantha, and within minutes, my family and I are alone again.

Standing in the living room area, I glance over at my wife wondering if I should plead for forgiveness now or later, but the moment our eyes meet, she heads off after our son. Fantastic. She doesn’t even want to stand beside me. Good job, Young...

In order to give the both of us some time to cool down, I make my way towards a box of things the security team brought by before we arrived—the things I managed to grab on my first trip back into the house, our wedding portrait, and a couple bags of clothing and other necessities we’ll need in the short term. Samantha must have contacted them and asked them to go on a shopping trip for us—I smile at the thought. She thinks of everything. I locate my cell phone and check for messages, wincing at the amount of missed calls, voicemails, and text messages I’ve received over the last day or so. My parents. Work colleagues. People from town who heard about the house. One of my older sisters. This one makes me raise an eyebrow; I can’t remember the last time Elizabeth or Holly called me about anything that didn’t involve wanting something from me. Elizabeth’s voicemail is the first one I listen to. She says something about having realized belatedly that Tyler’s birthday just passed and that she and Holly went in together for a present for him. Apparently Holly tried to drop it off the day of the fire and left it with security when Samantha and I weren’t home. What this actually means is that Sam was probably there, but Holly had no desire to interact with my wife. I roll my eyes and check the rest of my messages.

Despite my father’s attempt to bridge the gap between him and Samantha, my sisters have no desire to follow his lead. I’m not overly concerned about that and neither is Samantha, but the open hostility is getting a little old. They’ve got no problem spoiling the hell out of Tyler and I know they’ll do the same with Olivia; they just pretend Samantha doesn’t exist. Well, most of the time they pretend she doesn’t exist; the remaining time is spent comparing her to my ex-girlfriends and not so subtly hinting she’s not good enough for me. They didn’t even come to our wedding. The amusing part about that is I didn’t even realize they hadn’t been there until a few days later.

I’ve also got a message from Bonnie. Of course she heard what happened and wants to help out in any way possible. In the next breath, she all but demands that the three of us come to her house for dinner sometime this week. Knowing her as I do, I suspect she’s got an ulterior motive; every time I see her, she looks sicker than she did before. I can’t imagine she’s got much time left and if I were in her shoes, I’d want to spend whatever was left of my life with the people who mean the most to me. I have no idea how many times she’s told me Samantha, Tyler, and I are the only real family she has. There’s her nephew, Mark Reilly, but they haven’t known each other long. From what I understand, until recently, Bonnie hadn’t seen him since he was small; Reilly’s father died and Bonnie apparently doesn’t get along with his mother.

Reilly popped back into her life last summer and they’ve gotten pretty close, particularly since Bonnie’s cancer diagnosis. I certainly don’t like the guy—despite what Samantha says about the two of them being only friends, I know Reilly is still interested in her and I believe he’s just waiting in the wings for a chance at her. No man, regardless of how sweet and wonderful and perfect, will sit at the hospital bedside of a woman he hardly knows or hold her hand and rest his free one against her pregnant belly while they sleep if he didn’t have an ulterior motive. Reilly knew damn well Samantha and I were engaged when she was in the hospital. Granted, she and I were in the middle of a misunderstanding that could have ended us, and I’m sure she used Reilly as a sounding board, but I was out of the country and as far as I was concerned, we were together. There’s no doubt in my mind that if Samantha had decided the video of Natalie and me was enough for her to leave me, he’d be right there to sweep her off her feet. The dipshit.