Young Truths (Young Series) (7 page)

“I know. But he only got a second’s glance at him. By the time he actually realized it was Marone, he was long gone. We’re currently checking all CCTV feeds in the area to see if we can figure out which way he’s headed.”

The migraine is pounding against my skull, making it difficult to concentrate. “He’s getting bolder,” I say. “Using a fucking fake
ID to get into a federal prison?”

“I’m aware. And I’ll be having words with a few people about spotting fake IDs once I get back to work. Just be aware he’s around.”

“Yeah,” I respond, suddenly remembering Samantha’s feeling of being followed. “There’s something you need to be aware of as well. Samantha believes she’s being followed around town and knowing Frank Marone might be in the area, I’m having a hard time disproving that belief.”

“Sure she’s not just seeing your security team?”

“That was the first thing I asked her. She’s sure. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have even brought it up to me.”

“I’ll have someone look into it,” Marcus assures me. “In the meantime, talk to your wife. And I really am sorry about your dad.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, thanks.”

When we hang up, I push my fingers through my hair and try to think of what I’m going to say to Samantha tonight. She needs to know about my father; if anyone can understand, it’s her. She also needs to know about Marone. I’m just not sure if I can have both conversations with her tonight...

Eventually, I decide to give up on work for the day and go home to my family. Nothing productive is happening today and now that I know how Samantha is feeling, I need to fix things.

Again.

I feel Matthew enter the basement before I hear him and brace myself for the argument that’s about to occur. After a day of completely avoiding one another, I know he’s only here now because he received a phone call and he’s probably not pleased that I essentially went over his head.

“You called Marcus,” he says evenly.

I turn around on the couch as best I can with my huge belly and face him. His expression is completely blank, his shoulders squared, his jaw tense. “Yes,” I respond. No point denying anything...

“Why?”

My eyebrows rise high on my forehead. “Seriously?” I ask incredulously. “I couldn’t get you to talk to me; what the hell else was I supposed to do? Leave you to yourself until you work out whatever the hell is bothering you? Not a chance. I thought we agreed to talk to each other, not bottle things up to the point our tempers explode. Yet here you are, doing exactly the opposite. Why did I call Marcus? Because you were scaring the hell out of me.”

His brow furrows slightly. “How?” he asks quietly.

“The night we were talking about Tom,” I respond immediately. “The look in your eyes... Matt, it reminded me of after the bombing. That coldness and anger all directed towards me. That’s what I saw that night. All because Tyler asked me a simple question about someone who was in his life every day for five years and then just vanished. Matt, it didn’t mean anything. Tyler adores you; so do I. We’re not going anywhere, but I will tell you one thing: if you ever say something to me like you did that night, about how we’re yours like we’re possessions you’ve acquired, we will have a problem. A big one. Yes, we’re yours; you’re ours, too. Remember that.”

For the first time, his gaze softens and he takes a couple steps forward. “That’s how I was looking at you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jesus, Sam...” He runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes darting around the room. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I watch him closely as he tentatively walks around the couch and sits down a few feet from me. “You’re always sorry,” I remind him. “And you always promise to change things. Most of the time, you do; other times, it only gets worse. Which time is this, Matt? Are you going to actually tell me what’s going on?”

He sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. When they open again, I feel my entire body relax when I see my Matthew has returned—the sweet, loving, funny, slightly tortured man I fell in love with so long ago. Right now, he looks devastated. “My father is dying, Samantha,” he says quietly, his gaze never wavering from mine. “And with everything else that’s going on right now, I have no idea how to handle it.”

“Oh, Matt,” I say, my voice cracking, reaching out for his hand. His fingers grip mine to the point of pain, but I don’t complain. “Did he tell you?”

Shaking his head, he explains about how he hacked into his father’s medical records a couple days ago and how he’s been trying to find a way to tell his father he knows about the cancer. “Claire called me last week talking about how worried she is about him. I’ve been suspecting something is wrong for a while now and I’ve been trying to ignore it, hoping to be wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say lamely. I know how it feels to go through what he’s going through, knowing there’s nothing you can do. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“And say what? Hey, Dad, how’s it going? How’s work? Yeah, Tyler’s great... So I heard you’ve got cancer. Shall we discuss it?” he retorts. “Not exactly a conversation starter.”

I bite my lip to hold back a smile at his sarcasm. It only takes one memory for my amusement to abate. “My mom was sick for probably a year before she and Dad actually sat us down and told us what was going on,” I begin quietly. This piques his attention; it’s not often I talk about my mother’s death. “Before that, they tried playing it off... Oh, Mom’s got a cold again. Or she’s just tired because of the heat. They even tried claiming menopause at one point, even though she was way too young for that. They were doing it to protect us, like they thought if they didn’t say anything, they could secretly make her better and we’d never be any the wiser. The only reason they told us when they did was because she had to be taken to a treatment center in Omaha and they knew we’d never believe they decided to take a vacation in the middle of harvest season.”

“How’d you take it?” he asks.

“Aside from being devastated, you mean?” I reply, smiling humorlessly and rolling my eyes at myself. “I was angry with them from keeping something so important from us. That lasted a while and as things got worse, I started getting angry that they told us. I’d been so happy being oblivious. I was planning out everything I was going to do after high school and while I was concerned with her health, I naively bought into their lame excuses.”

“Would you have rather they never told you?”

I shrug. “All these years later, no. Back then, probably. I thought I was being selfish thinking like that. Knowing she was sick stopped everything in my life and I was so pissed off. At them and the doctors who were treating her for not being able to cure her and everybody else. Her illness ruined everything I had planned for myself. I managed to get over most of the anger before she died. I realized later she knew I was angry with her and I don’t remember if I ever told her I was sorry or that I loved her and would miss her...”

Matthew scoots across the couch and pulls me against him as I start crying. “She knew, Sam,” he whispers against my forehead. “Of course she knew...”

I force a laugh, shaking my head. “I thought I was supposed to be comforting you,” I say shakily. “Not the other way around.”

“I’ll comfort you any day of the week if you need it,” he tells me before continuing curiously, “How’d you come to terms with losing her?”

“I haven’t,” I answer. “I pretend I have, but I haven’t. Can I give you a bit of advice, though?”

“Of course.”

“Skip the anger stage. Forget all about the fact that he hasn’t told you or your sisters and just do whatever you can to make the most of however much time you’ve got left with him. I know your relationship isn’t the best, but he’s your dad.”

His brow furrows in thought for a moment as though my words make no sense to him. “So I’m just supposed to forget everything he’s done? All the things he’s said to you. The fact that he approved a visa for one of the people who kidnapped you and Tyler?”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to forget, Matt. And I’ll be the first to admit I’ve never been the biggest fan of your father, but even I’ll also acknowledge he’s made one hell of an effort over the past couple months to make things right with both of us. The least you can do before he goes is to forgive him.”

He doesn’t respond, but I know he heard me. I wish I could do more to help him. He spends so much time focusing on everybody else in his life—making sure we’re happy and safe—that he rarely takes time for himself to just let things sink in. So much of life has changed in the last eight months and now it’s all crashing down on him. Me. Tyler. Tom. Leo. The plane crash. The kidnapping. His near indictment in Germany. Natalie. His father... It’s enough to make anyone want to curl up and block out the world. A carefree attitude can only take a person so far; I think Matthew has finally reached his limit.

“Can we just go to bed?” he asks, his voice shaky.

I nod. “Of course.” He stands first and helps me off the couch, and we silently head up to our bedroom. As we change and climb into bed together, Matthew immediately moves to rest his head on my belly, something I know comforts and calms him, and I run my fingers through his hair. “You know whatever happens you’ll always have me, don’t you? We’re stronger together, Matt. It’s always been that way. And I’m more than willing to take some of that weight off your shoulders. You’re not alone.”

He nods against my belly. “I know,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

I can’t remember the last time Matthew and I just lay in bed for hours on end hardly speaking, just holding one another. He got up briefly to take Tyler to school and to place a few calls to work to let them know he wouldn’t be in, and now he’s beside me again, his head resting against my belly, tracing invisible shapes with his finger while my fingers play with his almost too long hair. Most of last night was spent talking about everything—the baby, his father... the Frank Marone sighting. I should probably be more concerned about that than I actually am—we don’t know exactly why he was attempting to visit Natalie, but I can’t imagine it was for anything good. Matthew has his theories, of course. He thinks Frank is afraid Natalie will turn on him to get some sort of deal. No one really knows how deeply Natalie was involved with Frank’s dealings and there’s every possibility she has information that could incriminate him in several countries.

Not that Matthew believes anyone will give Natalie a deal of any sort, no matter what information she might give them. Marcus West has taken this situation personally—understandable, after being shot rescuing my son—and he is looking to prosecute as heavily as possible. Personally, I’m all for that. And Matthew is too.

We haven’t really discussed it much since last night; we’ve agreed that there is to be no heavy discussion today. There’s time enough for that later and we’re both enjoying just being together. We’ve talked about our children and taking a vacation once the baby is born to visit my family in Iowa and the fact that we still need to take a second honeymoon together. He’s thinking extravagance—big surprise—while I’m thinking something simple. So far he’s suggested a month’s tour of the world—England, Italy, Australia. I’m thinking a weeklong cruise or a trip to the Bahamas or something. I would be perfectly happy to spend time on a beach doing absolutely nothing; he balks at the idea of sitting still for so long.

Honestly, I’m surprised he’s content with inactivity right now. Normally he’d want to watch television or play a videogame while I sit beside him and read. Not that I’m complaining; this is a rare opportunity for me. Still, we should probably get something productive done. “So Tyler decided what he wants to do for his birthday,” I say quietly, still running my fingers through his hair.

He murmurs something sleepily and I think that’s going to be the end at my attempt at conversation. Slowly he turns his head so he’s looking at me, though his cheek still rests against my belly. “And what did he decide?”

“The circus,” I answer. “Apparently it’ll be in town this weekend and all his friends are talking about it. And we told him whatever he wanted to do...”

I can’t quite place the expression on my husband’s face. “And he wants to go to the circus?” he checks impassively. I nod, raising an eyebrow at his tone. “The circus... With the lions and the elephants and the cotton candy and the big tents...”

“And the clowns...” I add with a grin, nodding. “That’s the one.”

His eyes dart away from mine and he swallows hard. I only now notice that his body has tensed up and I can’t figure out why. “There’s got to be something else he wants to do,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “There’s a new game center near the hospital; that’s supposed to be good for kids’ birthday parties. Or we could just have it here. I’ll even get one of those bouncy house things.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Matt, it’s the middle of winter,” I remind him. “No one is going to let their kids play outside in a bouncy house.”

“Then we’ll bring it inside! We can do
anything; don’t even need to leave the house. And given your condition, maybe that’s the best option.”

My mouth drops open. “My
condition
?” I repeat indignantly. “And what condition might that be?”

He flinches, apparently realizing what he’s just said. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly. “Just... circuses aren’t really the most hygienic places in the world. Who knows what kinds of diseases those animals carry. I’m only looking out for the well-being of my family.”