Young Truths (Young Series) (2 page)

I relax significantly when I turn into the long driveway that leads up to the home Matthew had built before he and I met. A log cabin-style house set on a huge yard and overlooking a large lake. Any time I see the lake recently, I still grin at the memories of our wedding day when we stood out on the boat dock the day after Christmas in the frigid temperatures as we said our vows and how after an incredible kiss, it began snowing, topping off an experience that already had the feel of a fairytale. The lake was also where Matthew proposed to me around seven years ago using fireworks to ask the question. Not for the first time, I’m slightly amused at the apparent affinity my husband has with water—his most recent proposal had incorporated several sailboats. I really don’t think this man could ever do anything simply. Sometimes it gets tiresome, but most of the time, whenever he goes over the top, it’s incredibly sweet.

Beside Matthew’s sports car is an SUV I hadn’t expected to see today. I know immediately it belongs to FBI agent Marcus West, who seems to have taken Leo’s place as Matthew’s most trusted friend. I don’t know many details on how the two men became associated, but I do know Marcus has gotten my husband out of some very tight spots in recent months and I can only imagine what sort of trouble Marcus has pulled him out of over the years. Being Friday, I expected our weekend to be uneventful and spent at home together. Having Marcus here, however much I like him, doesn’t bode well for that plan.

Sighing, I climb the stairs to the front door and enter, and am immediately greeted by a high-pitched barking of a little black lab puppy named Bandit that we gave Tyler for Christmas. Much to my surprise, Tyler has risen to the responsibility of having a pet beautifully; always making certain Bandit has food and water and goes outside when he needs to. Matthew and I both assumed we’d end up taking full care of the puppy, but so far, that hasn’t been the case.

“Hi, Mom!” Tyler calls breathlessly, sliding into the hallway in his socks, apparently chasing after Bandit.

I smile as he comes over to give me a hug. “Hi, sweetie. What are you up to?”

“Just playin’,” he informs me. “Me and Bandit are playing hide and seek.”

“Oh,” I say with twitching lips. “Who’s winning?”

“Me,” Tyler says, dropping to the floor where his puppy immediately jumps into his lap. “He’s too loud when he hides.”

Smothering a laugh, I nod. “I can imagine. Where’s your dad?”

“Upstairs somewhere,” Tyler responds, now playing tug of war with Bandit with a piece of rope. “We’re having pizza for dinner.”

Of course we are... Anytime I leave dinner plans up to Tyler and Matthew, we have pizza. Fine by me. Last time we had Chinese, the baby in my belly objected for three days afterwards. I watch my son and his puppy play for a few minutes before Tyler throws the rope for Bandit to chase, then follows. Shaking my head and smiling, I head up the stairs towards Matthew’s home office. He only uses it lately when he’s got a business meeting here or when Marcus drops by. The room is soundproof—though I never have figured out why it needs to be soundproof—and he hides out in there when he’s working on some top secret project or doesn’t want Tyler overhearing his conversations. To my surprise, the door is actually open and I immediately locate my husband standing beside Marcus as the two men observe the fish in an aquarium. I stay just outside the door and observe Matthew.

From the second I laid eyes on him, I loved him. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. When I first saw him, I thought he was cocky and knew exactly how incredible he looked. I hated him. Mostly, I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He hasn’t changed too drastically since that day eight years ago. He’s still tall and rather gangly, despite how much he works out, and his jet black hair still sticks out in every conceivable direction. I’ve taken to teasing him about having developed a few gray hairs in the last months and his reaction—utter panic—never gets old.
Truth is he keeps getting better looking as time goes on and if one of us is getting gray hairs, it’s definitely me. The only flaw on his body is his left shoulder that’s scarred so badly from a bombing that to this day, I can hardly look at it. It’s a reminder that he was nearly killed and even though the doctors saved his life, he nearly lost his arm. Small price to pay for him to still be with us. He recovered completely from that incident and somehow he’s managed to forget it’s there at all. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to do that.

Every time I see it, I think of the weeks I spent at his hospital bedside wondering if he’d ever wake up and if he did, would he be the same? I try not to remember the month or so after Matthew was released from the hospital and he began his physical therapy. It seemed like so much longer than that with Matthew sinking into a depression so deep even I couldn’t reach him. He was angry at his injuries and whoever had set the bomb off in his building. He was frustrated at how long it was taking to regain use of his arm. He was in constant pain, washing down painkillers with whatever form of alcohol he could get his hands on. He had changed. I barely recognized him most days. And he didn’t even seem to realize what he was doing whenever he took out his frustrations on me. He never hit me or anything—if he had, that would have been the last thing he’d ever done—but he didn’t need to. I tried to remind myself he was injured and it was the medication talking, not him. But one day, things got so bad I very nearly left him because of it. I still don’t know why I changed my mind aside from the fact that I looked in the backseat of my car at my sleeping eight-month-old son and realized I didn’t know what to do without Matthew. So we went home and I found my husband sitting on the edge of our bed in the dark with his head in his hands. I don’t know what happened between the
times I left him that morning after one of our biggest fights yet and when I returned, but he had a sudden understanding of his behavior over the recent weeks and how it had been affecting me.

After we got past that, we seemed to be better and stronger than ever. Until the night I made the decision to take him up on his offer to leave him to ensure my and our son’s safety. That had begun five years of sadness and monotony, and settling for a life I knew I never wanted.

I shake myself from my thoughts, reminding myself those days are long gone. Both of us are back where we belong, making up for lost time and building a new future together. I take one step into the office and as though an alarm went off to announce my arrival, Matthew’s head snaps over and a slow smile grows on his face that makes him look as young as the day I met him. It’s a smile I’ve never seen him give anyone else, and if I have my way that will never change.

“Well, hello,” he greets softly, crossing the room towards me to deliver a kiss that takes my breath away and makes me forget Marcus is still in the same room as us. It’s not until he pulls away from me that he seems to remember we’re not alone. His eyes dart briefly over his shoulder and a little smirk I think he intends to be apologetic appears on his face. I roll my eyes at him and he turns away, throwing his arm around my shoulders to lead me over to the aquarium.

“Hi, Marcus,” I say with amusement, finding the man is very intently studying the fish behind the glass.

He straightens up and turns around, grinning at me. Taller than Matthew and broad-shouldered, Marcus resembles a professional football player more than he does an FBI agent, and though I’ve never actually seen him on the job and in action, I can imagine his normal teddy bear demeanor hardening. Matthew has told me stories about some of the things he and Marcus have done over the years and I’ve come to the conclusion I’d really rather not piss him off. Ever. “Afternoon, Samantha,” he says smoothly in a deep voice as though he had no idea Matthew and I were just locked in a very heated embrace. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been witness to such scenes. “How’s the little one?”

I glance down at my belly, grinning. “Getting bigger by the second,” I grumble. “If she grows anymore, Matt’s going to have to sleep in another room, because he won’t fit in our bed.”

Matthew snorts a laugh, raising an eyebrow at me. “You’ve got a long way to go before that happens, Sam,” he says, his voice thick with amusement. “I kind of like you like this.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, but don’t respond. Instead I turn back to Marcus, whose lips are twitching. “I thought you were leaving on vacation and there wasn’t going to be any business this weekend,” I say pointedly, looking between both men.

“Purely a social call,” Marcus says dismissively. My other eyebrow rises when I see Matthew shift uncomfortably out of the corner of my eye and I look between the two of them suspiciously. Marcus shifts from foot to foot. “Well, mostly a social call...”

“Marcus has been tracing the origin of those photos that were left for us on our wedding day,” Matthew tells me reluctantly.

I sigh, suddenly wishing I hadn’t been so curious. The morning after our wedding day, or more accurately, the afternoon, after lunch and a long bath, Matthew remembered finding a package the night before that had been left with our wedding gifts. There had been no card, no address, no name attached to it, but it didn’t take us much to work out where it had come from. It was an envelope full of photographs taken of Matthew, me, and our son as recently as a few days before the wedding. And we knew who had arranged for it, because I’d once found a folder filled with similar photos in the office belonging to Frank Marone during the very brief period I worked for him. Matthew and I both agreed these photos seem to be a warning of sorts, but our biggest concern was how Frank was able to get them through security when the whole of New York State is on the lookout for him. The best he could come up with is that in the excitement of the day, all gifts were stacked together and nobody thought to check through them for potential risks. It was an oversight, and I’m just relieved nothing worse happened.

“And?” I ask quietly, wrapping my arms around my belly protectively.

Matthew wraps an arm around my shoulders. “The person who delivered the photos was hired to do it. He says the person who paid him did so wirelessly—deposited the money straight into a bank account from one that seems to not exist anywhere. If it was Frank, and I’ll be very surprised if it turns out someone else is behind it, he thoroughly covered his tracks.”

“So what you’re saying,” I begin slowly, “is we have no more solid information now than we did before.”

My husband gives me a grimace of apology. “Pretty much,” he responds. “We’ve got a few more leads to check out, but Frank is still God knows where.”

“We’re going to find him, though,” Marcus interjects in a soothing tone. “I’ve never had someone evade me for this long and this is getting very personal, especially with the scar from that damn bullet he hit me with staring at me in the mirror every day.”

I nod in understanding, though I’m not particularly inclined to discuss the night Marcus was shot—the same night Tyler was kidnapped and Leo was killed. Matthew seems just as uneasy about it and rather quickly changes the subject to Marcus’s upcoming vacation. Apparently he’s taking his wife and daughters to Hawaii for a week and a half, which sounds like Heaven right about now. In typical Upstate New York fashion, we’ve been buried in snow since November and as much as I enjoy snow, it’s starting to get a bit monotonous. Matthew and I have discussed taking a bit of vacation early in the summer; maybe visit my family in Iowa so they can meet the new baby. I’m surprised at how enticing the thought of returning there really is, if for no other reason than to show my hometown that I’m okay. I don’t know why it’s so important to prove that to them, when I haven’t given most of those people a single thought in years, but knowing how sorry they felt for me after my mother died, then in the years Matthew and I were separated is so ingrained in my mind that I want to erase every trace of it.

Marcus sticks around for a little while longer, though declines our invitation to join us for dinner. Matthew walks him out and returns a few minutes later, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door as he watches me look through takeout menus. I pretend not to notice he’s there which prompts him to cross the room and slide his arms around my shoulders and press a kiss to my temple.

“How was your day?” he murmurs against my skin.

“Good,” I reply. “Yours?”

I feel him shrug slightly. “Alright until Marcus showed up,” he answers. “Not that I don’t love seeing him at every opportunity, but it really would be nice to just hang out once in a while.”

“Aww,” I say teasingly. “Is Marcus your new BFF?”

He snorts a laugh. “Please don’t ever use that phrase in reference to me and Marcus or me and anybody else ever again,” he says.

As much as he objects, over the last couple months, I’ve noticed Marcus taking over the role Leo once filled—friend, confidant, security, whatever Matthew needs. I’m glad he’s got that. He’s become much more open with me about his life and his work and his worries, but everyone needs another outlet aside from their spouse. I’ve got Matthew’s younger sister Claire as mine. Then there’s Bonnie, though I’m much more hesitant to drop my troubles onto her as her health continues to decline. Outside of those two, I have Mark Reilly who had been my doctor after I was hospitalized several months ago due to high blood pressure. At the time, I remember thinking often that if Matthew hadn’t been in the picture, I might be very happy with Mark. There was a mutual attraction—there probably still is on some level for the both of us—and he has all the traits I loved most about Matthew without the likelihood of kidnappings or bombings or plane crashes. Matthew hated him from the very beginning, and I could understand his view of my budding friendship with Mark, but since Thanksgiving dinner, which Mark attended with Bonnie, who happens to be his aunt, and his girlfriend Jessica, who works for Matthew at Young Technologies, he’s become a little more accepting of it. Mark and I have lunch on a weekly basis, and we’ve become very good friends. In fact, we’re having lunch tomorrow. Which reminds me... I should probably remind my husband of that...