6. Matthew

Chapter 6

Matthew

I could hear Dylan's mom screaming at her when I walked in the door, but I didn't want to intrude. Sounds like the whole playing lacrosse thing is not going over well with Holly. You'd think she'd be proud or amazed that her daughter not only made the lacrosse team but took them to state and won.

Instead, Holly's voice shrieks through the house about her daughter playing a "heathen sport" and how she was told cheerleading was an acceptable sport.

"This woman is mental," I mutter under my breath.

My parents would have never told me what I could or couldn't play in school. Hell, I could have come home and told them I was doing chess, backgammon, or MMA fighting, and they'd have been like, ‘Cool, when are your matches?' And be sitting in the front row cheering me on. Not Holly.

I don't understand what my dad sees in this woman. She's nothing like my mom. Not that I expected her or anyone my dad dates to be, but how does he go from one extreme to the next?

"Ugh, I can't wait to go to college and leave here for good," Dylan screams before I hear her bedroom door slam shut with a force that makes the walls shake.

I'm going to give her some time to calm down. But I'm not letting another day go by without talking to her. We are going to figure this out today. However, for now, I'm going to go downstairs and see what my dad has to say about all this. Grabbing my phone, I send Dylan a text, letting her know that I'm not letting this go. Me: We need to talk. Then I head down to see if I can figure out what her mom plans to do. I enter the kitchen and my dad is seated at the island while Holly paces back and forth, her face a mask of frustration.

"I just don't understand where I went wrong. I've given her everything she could ever want. And this is what I get. Do you think it's her acting out over the divorce? Or maybe because she hasn't seen her dad?" "I don't know, honey," my dad answers, his voice soft. "She seems like a good girl to me."

I move to the fridge, acting like I'm not listening to every word they're saying, and grab an energy drink and one of the pre-made fruit cups I prepared earlier this week.

"Darling. She's been sneaking around for months, lying to us, and playing lacrosse. I specifically told her she couldn't play that sport. I moved here with my sister because I was told they didn't have a girls' team."

My jaw tightens.

Wow, that's low.

Knowing your daughter loves something that much and moving somewhere purposely so she can't play.

"They don't," I interrupt. "She tried out for the guys' team and made it. That's a feat."

"Matthew, please. This doesn't concern you." She tries to dismiss me. "Well, it kind of does." I crack open my drink and take a sip. "How so?" "Well, seeing how I went to most of her matches, I can attest to what an amazing player she is. I can also tell you that I'm the college scout for this region for lacrosse. We also didn't know she was female, but she was being scouted and still is. There are no rules about gender in college-level lacrosse and CSU is interested." "No shit?" my dad asks, his eyes wide with surprise."Absolutely not." Holly slams her hands down on the counter. "She is not playing that caveman sport in college. She's not even going to Colorado State. I applied for her to go to a few other places and am just waiting to hear back. Universities that are geared more toward ladies and careers that are suitable for Dylan." Holly's voice is cold, unyielding.

"What career is suitable for her?" I ask, my mind blown that this woman thinks she can tell her adult daughter where to go to school and what to major in. "Because I remember at the dinner we had when we were introduced, she said she was interested in sports medicine."

"Teaching, cosmetology, data entry, office management. Places where she can dress professionally and hold herself in an appropriate manner."

"Why does it matter to you so much what other people think of her?" I'm no longer able to hide the disdain in my voice.

"I will not have a repeat of what happened at her old school," Holly snaps, her eyes flashing with anger.

"What happened?" my dad asks, looking genuinely concerned.

"We don't talk about it. In fact, Dylan doesn't even know that I know, but I do. I will not have her reputation tainted by her actions again. That's that."

"Honey, do you think you're being a little irrational? It seems like she's good at lacrosse and if she wants to play, what's the harm? Especially if she's being scouted." My dad tries to reason with her.

"Ladies do not play contact sports. That sport is how she got into the mess she was in to begin with."

"She's your daughter, so I respect your decision." Dad shrugs.

"You're a pushover, and I don't even know who you are anymore." I curl my lip at him. "Holly, you're a real piece of work. I now see why Dylan can't wait to get away from you. I've been here only a few months, and I feel the same."

Holly gasps, her hand flying up to cover her face in shock.

"Matthew!" Dad scolds, his face reddening.

"No. I'm done. I'm going to wrap up what I need to here and leave. I'll rent a place or head back early. Count me out for the wedding too. I won't support you marrying someone so cruel and rude. Mom would be ashamed of you." I leave the kitchen and head up to my room, my heart pounding in my chest.

I guess I need to start preparing to move out and get my ducks in a row closer to CSU. Holly's sniffling echoes from the kitchen and I shake my head as I hear my dad try to console her, but I can't bring myself to care.

It's been a few hours since our blow-up in the kitchen, and Holly and my dad left. Something about dinner to make her feel better since their kids are ungrateful. Whatever. She's my dad's problem.

With them gone, it's the perfect opportunity for me to talk to Dylan. She hasn't come down for anything since she got home this morning. So I make her a sandwich, place it on a tray, and take it upstairs—my own little peace offering. I knock on her door, but don't hear anything. I knock again.

"Come on, Dylan, open up. Your mom and my dad left."

Nothing.

"I have food. Please open, I just want to talk to you."

I can hear movement on the other side, just before the door opens.

"I only answered because you have food and I'm hungry." She narrows her gaze at me. Her ashy blonde hair is tousled, framing her face in loose waves. Her chocolate brown eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Even when she's angry, I can't help but think how beautiful she is.

"I'll take what I can get. Can I talk to you?"

"Fine. But as soon as I'm done eating, you're gone." She holds the door open and I step into her room, and as I take a seat on the edge of her bed, she shuts it.

"Talk." She crosses her arms as she glares at me and I take a moment to appreciate her form before I dive into talking about the kiss.

She's wearing a white tank top that clings to her body, showing off her small but sexy cleavage. The soft fabric of her tank top contrasts with the smooth, sun-kissed skin of her shoulders and arms. Paired with it, she has on a pair of cotton shorts that hug her hips just right, accentuating her slender legs.

I shift, trying to find the right words. "I need to explain why I've been acting the way I have toward you."

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn't interrupt. I take a deep breath and spill my thoughts.

"I thought you were just another stick bunny, chasing opportunities like your mother. I had to deal with girls like that all through school, and I hated it. They were always looking for the next big thing, never caring about the people they hurt along the way."

She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand to stop her. "Let me finish. I know that's not fair to you, and I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"Fine. Apology accepted. You can go now." She holds her hand out toward the door.

"We need to talk about the kiss."

She shakes her head. "I'd rather not."

"We have to," I insist, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the moment. "We're going to be step-siblings. It's best if we clear the air."

She hesitates, then nods. "Fine."

"That kiss... it meant something to me. I've been watching you, Dylan. I've been wishing I could be with you, but your age stopped me. I knew I couldn't do anything until you were eighteen. And now that you are, I can't hide how I feel anymore."

Her eyes widen, and she looks like she wants to say something, but I press on.

"It was hard for me to rationalize why I was attracted to you. I've never felt this way about anyone before, especially not a guy. But when I saw you play lacrosse, not knowing who you were, I was drawn to the male version of you. When you took off your helmet, and I saw it was you, I couldn't hold back my feelings any longer. I kissed you without even thinking about your response, or if it would be welcomed. And I'm sorry for that."

Dylan is silent, her eyes locked on mine, listening with rapt attention. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she processes everything. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off again.

"Please, let me finish. I know I've made a mess of things, but I want to make it right. I want to be with you, Dylan. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I can't keep pretending like I don't care."

She finally speaks, her voice soft and hesitant. "Matthew, I... I don't know what to say."

I reach out, taking her hand in mine. "Just tell me how you feel. Do you feel anything for me? Or was I completely out of line?"