71. Ciaran

71

CIARAN

M aybe Matty was onto something because it was like facing the firing squad. At least from Stefon, as he downright glared at us while pacing before the unlit fireplace.

Side by side, though not touching, Matty and I sat mute on the pristine couch. An elegant coffee table lay between us and our stern interlocutor. I couldn't meet the older man's determined eye as he lectured away, so instead I studied the white floral arrangements on the coffee table as if the petals held all the answers.

"What were you thinking, Matthias Vaulteneau?" Stefon said. Handsome and stylishly dressed in a designer suit, Stefon didn't look mad. He wasn't yelling. And I think that made it worse. "Look at your face. Getting into fights and dragging Ciaran off to Vegas. How dare you scare us like that?"

"Matty didn't drag me," I urged. Stefon threw a sharp look my way that told me to keep my mouth shut. I didn't listen. I was just glad they hadn't noticed the hickeys yet. "I pretty much forced Matty to drive me to Vegas."

Mom, whose ethereal beauty was only slightly dimmed by the dark circles under her eyes, sat nearby on the matching loveseat. She wore a pale pink oversized blazer atop a bright pink satin top. Her wide-legged trousers were of the same hue as her blazer.

I could smell gentle hints of her usual fragrance, a warm floral musk blend of lavender, orange blossom, and vanilla. It reminded me of home, of safety and love, of hugs.

Her shiny blond hair was pinned up in a jewel-encrusted clip, though a few longish pieces framed her heart-shaped face, having escaped the pins.

She resembled an established movie star at a press junket.

Even after a long flight worrying about me, my mother was beautiful. I could barely remember the fatigued way she looked working long days behind the deli counter. She deserved this life. This lifestyle. She deserved to be happy.

And I was the asshole who made her worry.

I could see the anguish in her eyes, the way she studied me, as if she suspected something was dreadfully wrong but she was afraid to press me too soon or too hard.

"You forced him?" Stefon scoffed. He stopped pacing and turned those dark, almost ruthless eyes on me. In that moment, with his dark hair, tanned skin, and perfectly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, he reminded me of a mafia king seconds away from ordering a hit. "Not even wild horses can force Matty to do something he doesn't want to do, Ciaran."

"I…" I hesitated, my heart climbing into my throat. What should I reveal? How should I reveal it? Part of me wanted to rush from the room and fling myself off the cliff just to avoid admitting what happened.

Would Stefon laugh at me and call me an idiot for wanting to confront Drew? Would Mom be disappointed in my inability to resist Drew's charms? I knew I wasn't to blame for any of it, yet I felt so conflicted.

"What is it, honey?" Mom's gentle voice held a healing quality to it. No matter what happened, she'd always be my mom. She might be upset with me, but in the end I knew she'd be in my corner.

And Matty, well, he was absolutely in my corner. Did it matter to me if Stefon ended up being the odd man out? No, unless he took it out on my mom.

"Ciaran," Matty warned.

I could tell he wanted to tell me it was perfectly acceptable if I kept my mouth shut. That he'd take the brunt of our parents' wrath. Except I wasn't okay with that.

"I'll say this first part in front of both of you," I said, looking between Mom and Stefon. "The rest is something I'd rather just talk to Mom about. If…if you don't mind."

Stefon's face softened as he came to stand behind Mom. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she reached up to take it. They were definitely a unit, that was for sure.

"We understand," Mom said, speaking for them both. "We'll listen with an open mind and hear you out."

"I was set on running away," I blurted out, which of course was the wrong thing to start with. Mom tensed just as Stefon's face furrowed. "Let me back up," I amended, "because running away isn't accurate, either." Gathering courage, I said, "I needed to confront Mr. Jones, Mom, from my old high school. He…" I swallowed. "He, well, he said something that required a face-to-face confrontation, something about my college application, and I know that sounds really stupid and not exactly like something that requires a five-hour drive, but please know that it was really important for me to speak with Mr. Jones. I was going to get there one way or another, and Matty, who was concerned and wanted to make sure I didn't get into trouble, offered to take me."

Mom was silent for a moment. I could see that Stefon was dying to speak, but she squeezed his hand and he refrained. Maybe Stefon was not a lost cause.

Mom shifted her gaze to Matty. "Thank you for taking care of Ciaran. I am glad to know you were here for him." She chewed on her lower lip in contemplation. "Did you gain those bruises before, during, or after the trip to Vegas?"

My mom was really good at soliciting information. There was almost no way for Matty to talk his way out of answering that one.

Matty's eyes flicked to mine in apology before he answered. "During."

She nodded, as if understanding the unspoken words. Then, without warning, Mom stood. "I'd like to speak with my son alone." She kissed Stefon on the cheek. "I'll see you a bit, my love." Turning to me, she said, "Ciaran, follow me."

My chest hollowed out and dread filled the empty cavity. My legs moved without me having to tell them to do so. I gave Matty one final glance. His smile was encouraging, which helped, and I followed my mom out of the formal living room and up the grand staircase.

I'd never been in this part of the big house before. It was as ornate as the ground floor. The lights were low but it was easy to detect the plush carpets underneath. The famous paintings decorating the walls that led to the second floor were the kind that I'd seen in art history books.

"This is my suite," Mom explained once she opened a set of double doors, revealing a large sitting room, an equally large bedroom, an expansive walk-in closet, and her own bathroom.

As a whole, the suite was lush and feminine and clearly designed with my mom in mind. French doors were opened to the ocean. The constant whoosh of ocean waves and the evening's cool breeze cast a peaceful vibe over my mom's domain.

Multiple vases of exotic flowers brightened her sitting room while the dreamy cream-colored bedding was inviting and cozy. The dozens of pillows at the headboard seemed a bit impractical.

"It's beautiful," I said. "Stefon chose well for you. I have no doubt you will be able to unwind here when you need time to yourself."

"I'll change out the artwork, but it's a far cry from our apartment above the deli," Mom said with an easy grin. We sat at the small table in her sitting room.

"No kidding." Instantly I felt better. "Question: where do you put the pillows when you go to bed?"

Mom blushed, which wasn't something she did often. "Well, to be honest, I haven't actually slept in the room yet."

"Oh, right." I tugged at the strings of the hoodie, which inadvertently drew Mom's attention to the area. She did a double take and I knew my ability to hide the hickeys was over.

Thankfully she didn't bring it up, but I knew she would.

"Ciaran," she started after clearing her throat. "Was Mr. Jones inappropriate toward you?"

How to answer that?

I was afraid to be honest. Afraid of appearing weak. I hated the idea of being thought of as a victim…as someone to be pitied.

"He—he was," I said. Mom's face crumpled. Be brave , I told myself. Mom will still love you . "Mr. Jones—Drew, which is what he asked me to call him when we were alone—was always attentive. At first, nothing really happened, though he'd act hot and cold towards me, and that sorta fed my need to impress him. He um…" I trailed off.

Tears cascaded down Mom's cheeks. She leaned in but then stopped. She sensed that I wasn't ready for physical comfort just yet. "Ciaran, my love." Her voice cracked. "You are not to blame for Mr. Jones's actions. You did nothing wrong, honey. Nothing at all."

The knots tightening my insides began to unwind at her words. I had no clue I needed to hear that from her. I wasn't even cognizant of how tense I'd been, but almost instantly every muscle relaxed.

I cleared my throat and nodded. I still found it difficult to look her in the eye.

"I—I know. He was, um, affectionate." Was that even the right word? "He'd touch my shoulder or my leg if we were alone. It wasn't until later, or rather sorta more recently, that, well, he pressed for more. Not quite sex, but, like over the clothes stuff. I, uh, how do I say this?"

"Take your time, sweetie."

I glanced at her. She was a wreck, barely able to keep it together, and I hated that. I hated that that bastard put that expression on my mom's face.

"Mom, the fucked-up part is…I sorta liked it." I swallowed hard, because I was doing this. "Like, I wanted him to touch me and I craved touching him. And I knew it was wrong. Very very wrong. I knew it wasn't right for a grown man to want me like that. But…" I ran a hand through my hair. "I don't know, Mom, I guess I felt special even though it made me feel sick at the same time. Does—does that make sense?"

"It does, sweetie. I understand why you would have felt that way and you're not fucked up for feeling that way. He was young and charming and paid special attention to you. I'm just…I'm just so sorry I put him into our orbit." Mom's eyes squeezed shut and an angry grimace formed on her face. "Did he," she started, her mouth working. She appeared ready to murder Drew. "Did he force his attentions on you in Vegas? I couldn't help but notice the fresh, uh, marks on your neck."

"No." I held her gaze until it became uncomfortable. "But you may be pleased to know that Matty beat the shit out of him."

"Remind me to hug that boy." Then her eyes narrowed. "Oh." She took stock of me in a new light. " Oh ."

"Mom—"

"That explains the overnight part of the trip."

"I can expl?—"

She stood and paced the room in the same manner Stefon did back in the formal living room. "Did Matty pressure you into?—"

"No!" I pushed to my feet. "Good God, no, Mom. It, uh…" I rubbed the back of my neck. "It didn't start in Vegas."

She paused, then, "When we told you boys to get along, we didn't mean that ."

"Mom, will you look at me." She stopped pacing and faced me. I was throwing too many revelations at her at once. I still hadn't mentioned Drew's other manipulations about college or how he worked to ensure Stefon noticed her. "Matty's good to me and I think I'm good for him, too. He didn't force me. We just gravitated to each other and well, the truth is, we really like each other."

Her forehead creased. "He's your stepbrother, Ciaran."

"Of, like, three weeks, Mom." I started ticking off facts. "We didn't grow up together. We're not blood related and we are not trying to hide our relationship. Other people already know."

"Who?"

"Matty's best friends, Joan and Filipe. The household staff found out pretty quickly, but they are pros at discretion. Matty's entire swim team knows. Oh, and Matty's fake girlfriend, Zoey, is aware. Nobody's freaking out about this. Not a single person. What they're freaking out about is how Matty is serious about me. I guess that's never happened before."

As I rattled off that laundry list, Mom sat back down, her eyes wide. The range of emotions that flicked across her face would have been humorous had it not been about me.

"A fake girlfriend?" Mom's eyes sparkled before she started laughing. "Please tell me this is part of the plot of your heist novel."

"Badger Detective Inspector Shiremarch would never , Mom," I shot back with faux injustice." Mom's smile brightened. "The Vaulteneaus are billionaires." The fact that Mom and I were now a part of this family was still pretty wild to me. "And they get what they want, to include fake girlfriends who want Hollywood introductions. And before you ask, I'm okay with it. Honestly. Matty and I talked about it. His relationship with Zoey is a business agreement, not a romantic relationship."

"Only in Malibu would that kind of statement make sense." She stood in front of me and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Right?" I snickered. "It's been an, uh, adjustment."

Mom nodded. "I know that by marrying Stefon and moving us abruptly to Malibu changed everything. I uprooted your life and for that I'm sorry. I want you to be happy, Ciaran, and I want you to make the best choices for yourself, whether that's who to love or where to go to college. I'll support you no matter what. You've always been an independent young man, and now we have the resources for you to soar as high as you ever dreamed, sweetheart." She paused and I noticed how her throat worked as she swallowed. "I was going to tell you tomorrow, but Stefon has opened a trust fund for you."

My heart started beating fast again.

"Yeah, Matty indicated something like that might happen. The amount he guessed made my head spin."

"I won't lie." She looked away, something like embarrassment in her expression. "It's…substantial."

"I don't want it. If he won't take it back—and maybe he will once he learns about me and Matty—then I'll donate it all to charity. I'm going to give away all of Matty's money, too. He said I could. I mean, I'm pretty sure he was joking, but I plan to hold him to it."

Mom laughed.

"Maybe keep a few bucks, okay? You're a good kid with a good heart and a solid head on your shoulders. We could all take a page from your playbook." Mom turned serious for a moment. "As for Matty…" She sighed. "As long as no one is getting hurt, and you're being safe, then I think I'm okay with you two being an item."

"Mom," I groaned.

Jaw set, she declared, "Safe sex or no sex, Ciaran."

God, why hadn't the floor opened up and swallowed me yet?

"It's—we're— yes ," I stammered, my face heating. Matty was going to tease me mercilessly once I told him. "We're being safe."

"Thank you. I'll smooth things over with Stefon. Once he sees reason, I think he'll come around. If anything, he may be glad to see Matty serious about someone. But," she added, "I reserve the right to change my mind if the relationship looks unhealthy, okay?"

That seemed like a fair compromise.

"Thanks Mom." She wrapped me into a tight hug.

"One last thing, Ciaran." She stroked my hair. "I want to reinforce that you did nothing wrong. Drew is at fault and he is going to wish he never met us." Yikes. Mom was a complete badass. "I want you to give something serious thought." She let go of me. "I think it may be a good idea to sign up for therapy. For you and even for me. We've struggled for years, honey. That kind of thing leaves a mark. No need to decide right now, but give it some thought, okay?"

"I will."

"Let's go find our boys," she said with a beaming smile. Our boys . I liked that. As we walked down the stairs, she added, "I like your idea of giving away the money. I'll arrange a family meeting so we can all discuss it."