48. Matvey

48

MATVEY

Change is never easy. But sometimes, it's necessary. Sometimes, it's all we have.

So I'm going to do what I have to.

I make my way to Staten Island first thing in the morning. Finding the address is easy: the background check Grisha put together all those months ago still holds true.

It takes me to a trailer park. Again, no surprises.

I step around a heap of trash on the unkempt lawn. It's a far cry from my five-star hotel, but it isn't enough to move me to pity, either. I've seen worse. I've been worse.

Compared to the snows of Russia, this is paradise.

I stop in front of the right trailer and raise my fist to knock. For a second, though, I hesitate. The old me would never do something like this. No—he'd never even consider it. Matvey Groza, come to apologize? Please. He would find it humiliating, beneath him in every way possible.

But the old me didn't have April.

There used to be something comfortable in that: having nothing to lose. Having no one. If you're alone, you can't be called out, can't be pushed into a corner by anything or anyone. Can't be made to look in a mirror and risk hating what you see.

Once, I would have sworn by that life. I thought it was the only kind of life worth having. No one to answer to, no responsibilities to anyone but yourself. No one to come home to.

Now, I can't bear the thought of it.

I don't care how many advantages there are—I'm not going back to that. I'm not going back to a life of emptiness and misery. I've been in my own company long enough. Back then, I thought it meant strength: being alone.

But it doesn't. It just means loneliness.

And I've never been stronger than now that I have a family to protect.

I fucked things up with them. I know I did. And now, I have to make it right. So I take a breath and force myself to knock.

At first, I don't hear anything. Maybe they aren't home .

Then the shouting begins. "GET THE DOOR!"

"I'M ON CRUTCHES! YOU GET IT!"

"WELL, I'M COOKING YOUR LUNCH, YOU UNGRATEFUL FREELOADER!"

"Stop yelling! I'll do it!" comes a younger voice from the bottom of the trailer. Seconds later, the door cracks open. "Yes…?" The second he sees me, his eyes go wide. "Matvey."

"Charlie," I whisper back. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a second. In private."

Hesitation flashes across his face. I can't blame him—he's got every right to be afraid. Last time we saw each other, I was a beast. I lost sight of myself and everyone around me. Why should he trust me now?

From inside, Tom bellows, "WHO IS IT, brAT?"

"IF IT'S THE LANDLORD, TELL HIM WE'LL PAY AS SOON AS HE FIXES THE WATER HEATER!" Eleanor adds.

"STARTING NEXT MONTH, THOUGH!"

"It's not the landlord!" Charlie shouts back. "It's just…" He pauses, uncertain. "Girl Scouts."

"TELL THEM WE DON'T WANT THEIR SHITTY COOKIES!" Eleanor screeches.

"OHH, GET ME NOUGAT!" Tom chimes in.

"NOT WITH MY MONEY, YOU DON'T!"

"AND TWO BOXES OF CARAMEL!"

"Okay! I'll just be a minute!" He shuts the door behind his back and sighs. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." I nod towards the trailer. "Are they always like this?"

"No. Usually, they're worse." A weak laugh. "So, what did you…?"

"Right." God, this is awkward. "Is there anywhere we could…?"

At first, Charlie hesitates. Just for a second, but there's no way I'd miss it. That's my fault, too: that single heartbeat of fear. I despise myself for putting it there.

"I know a place," he says eventually. "Follow me."

Behind the trailer park, there's an actual park. It's a small, jungle-looking thing that doesn't show up on any map, probably because no one's taken care of it since the war ended. The Civil War.

"Here," Charlie says, hopping up a moss-covered garden wall to sit. "No one will hear us."

I remain standing. "Good."

Then I don't say anything else.

Charlie peers up at me, uncertain. He has the same nervous habit April has: wringing his hands when uncomfortable. Silence, it seems, has a way of making both siblings uneasy.

So I break it the only way I can. "I'm sorry. For what happened the other day."

Charlie swallows. "I-I know. April said you didn't mean to…"

April. Even when she's not present, here she is, defending the worst of me. "I didn't mean to put him in the hospital," I agree. "I did mean to punch him, though. I won't apologize for that. But I never wanted you to see it, Charlie. Never."

He gives a weak nod. "It was scary, seeing you like that. It was like you weren't there. I thought you were gonna…" He doesn't finish that sentence, but I can damn well fill in the rest. Kill him. "It reminded me of him a little bit. My dad."

That cuts deep. Not just because of my pride, but because of my family. Did I really show April such an ugly side of me? Did I remind her of Tom, too?

No wonder she was so furious with me. So heartbroken.

"It was one of my worst moments," I say. "I wasn't always a good man. Even now, I'm not sure you'd call me that. But since I met your sister… I've been trying to do better. I want to do better. And I want to be better for you, too." I look him straight in the eye. "Will you give me another chance?"

Charlie blinks. He seems surprised by my words. The rawness of them. It must be a new experience for him, seeing an adult own up to his mistakes. "Okay."

"Okay," I repeat.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Shoot."

"What happened the other day?" he asks. "Why did you guys start fighting like that?"

Ah. There it is.

"What did April tell you?"

"Not much," he mumbles. "Just that things got out of hand. But I still don't understand what was going on."

"Your dad…" I start. "He was saying some things. Doing some things that…" Just the memory's enough to make my blood boil again, but I force myself to push through it. Charlie's blameless in this. I won't taint his father's image in his eyes. "They were inexcusable. But so was I."

"What things?" he presses. "I only caught a few words, but I couldn't really tell what April and Dad were talking about. It sounded like they were arguing."

"They were," I confirm. "I didn't get there myself until the very end, but by the time I got there, it wasn't just an argument anymore. Your father was calling your sister some very nasty names. And then…" I grit my teeth. I don't want to ruin whatever scrap of relationship this boy has with his dad, but like fuck am I going to cover for Tom of all people. And yet, at the same time, the thought of shoving the worst of his dad—the worst any man is capable of—in Charlie's face is more than I can bear. Out of anyone in this situation, he's the one true innocent. "He had his hands on her," I say in the end. "And I wasn't going to stand for that."

Charlie's eyes widen in understanding. "He was trying to beat her up again?"

Among other things. "Yes."

His face darkens. "She didn't tell me that."

"She probably didn't want to get between you and your dad," I suggest. "She was trying to protect you. Him, too, I suppose."

"Yeah, she's always doing that," he mutters. "Trying to protect all of us. Even the ones who don't deserve it."

" You deserve it," I cut in. "Of all people, you deserved to be kept safe from him. He gave you a black eye, Charlie."

"You gave him two."

I grimace. Of course a simple apology wasn't going to make up for putting his father in the goddamn hospital. That's just the first step in earning a person's forgiveness. Unless I follow it up with action, it will mean nothing.

"That's fair. I deserved that."

"Sorry," he winces. "I didn't mean to get snappy."

"You have every right to." I put my hand on his shoulder. There's a slight flinch in his frame as I draw near, and it breaks my goddamn heart.

I did this. I made him afraid of me.

But in the end, he lets me. In the end, he chooses to trust me. Even if I haven't earned it back yet.

In that, too, he's so much like his sister.

"But Charlie, I need you to understand something: I hit a grown man. I didn't hit a kid— my kid. Doing that to your own child… that's not okay. Never."

He nods grimly. "Apes used to say the same thing. Back when she lived here."

"Your sister's wise. You should listen to her."

His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I know. You should, too, by the way."

"Believe me, I know."

"I'm glad she found someone like you," Charlie says, surprising me. "April's never… She didn't have much growing up. Even though her dad's rich, he never gave her a cent. Never took her anywhere, never came to visit… I'm not saying mine's better, but at least I got to know him. For better or worse, he's around. Dominic's just… some stranger."

I feel a stab straight through my chest. That's why April doesn't want to come clean, isn't it? She knows the pain of not having her dad around. How could she possibly inflict that on her brother?

"And Mom always played favorites. She would spoil me all the time and treat April as a second-rate kid. It was unfair, but she never said anything. She just took it."

"She loved you," I say. "Sometimes, we eat shit for the people we love."

"She had every right to hate me," Charlie says. "But she never did. She was more of a parent to me than either of mine. All while both of hers treated her as the second choice."

Second choice. I didn't realize until now, but Charlie's words have finally opened my eyes: that's what I've been doing, too. It wasn't intentional, but I still did it.

By marrying Petra, I treated April as a second choice, too.

It's no wonder she reacted the way she did. No wonder she finally gave me an ultimatum. Would I ever have noticed if she hadn't? Or would I have kept going on like this, blind to all her suffering?

"Matvey? Did I say something?"

I shake myself out of my thoughts. "No, no. I just realized I have to be somewhere."

"I'll walk you back."

As we make our way out of the jungle-park, I give Charlie my number. "Not just for emergencies—for anything. I can't promise I'll pick up all the time, what with work and everything, but I'll always call back. Always."

"Thanks," he says. Then: "Hey, is it true that you're with the mob? Dad was yelling about that yesterday in the hospital."

I give him a sideways glance. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Too soon."

"Right. Sorry."

He breaks into a big grin. "Nah, I'm just messing with you. I'll visit, okay?"

I nod. "Anytime."

Then I'm back on the road.

" Krasiviy! One more of these!" Vlad punctuates his request by slapping the waitress on the ass.

I clench my fist under the table, forcing myself not to create another diplomatic incident. "Tip her generously," I mutter under my breath, then realize there's no one at my side.

Right. Yuri's still MIA.

I type a quick text under the table. You don't need to follow Vlad anymore. Call me back.

P.S. Your girlfriend's been camping out in my kitchen. Come get her before I have to call security.

There. Maybe this time, he'll deign to pop out of the bushes or something.

"Am I boring you, son?"

"Not at all," I lie. When April asked me for space, I took the chance to indulge Vlad's demands for a night out. Now, I'm regretting every single thought that led me to that decision. "Your way of bonding with the servers is enlightening."

He gives a boisterous laugh. "Oh, loosen up! Girls are meant to be sampled."

"And here I thought that was the wine."

"Like you're such a saint," he harrumphs. "Though I can't say I blame you. I know we've had our differences on the subject, but now that the ax is buried, I've got to tell you I almost envy you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That woman," he waves. "The one you keep around to warm your bed."

My knuckles go white. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm just saying, I wish my wife had been so understanding. Then I wouldn't have had to spend a fortune in hotel rooms every time I wanted a good fuck."

"If you're talking about April, I suggest you shut your?—"

"Oh, let's not beat around the bush," he cackles. "A wife is to make a family with. But every man needs a whore."

That's it: I rise from my chair and knock it to the floor. My fists slam on the table, sending the glasses toppling every which way.

"Oy!" Vlad shouts. "What's gotten into you?!"

"I have to go."

Wife. Whore. In the world's eyes, it's always one or the other. That's how it's always going to be, isn't it?

Because I already have a wife.

So what does that make April?

It's the last straw. I ditch Vlad in his red-faced stupor and get back to my car. Then I race to the penthouse.

Time to make things right.