54. Matthew

54

MATTHEW

I s this a reconciliation or a post-mortem?

I have mixed feelings about Fischer being drunk. On the one hand, I feel like I'm being short-changed on a real conversation about where things stand, and I can't fully trust whatever comes out of his mouth. On the other hand, he's disinhibited, openly pitiful, and unguarded. It's disarming, which makes me forget why being around him was ever a bad idea.

"How is it about me?" he asks.

"Maybe read it sometime, and it'll ring a bell," I tell him. Basically, the only words I left off the tree were surgery and bed. Otherwise, it's basically a transcript of the nights we spent together in his old apartment and my subsequent effort to move on. Storm, nightmare, more, hurt, burn, close, here, please, raw, pain, torn…

"Matty, I swear I didn't come here to throw anybody under the bus, but Maggie and our parents said some rough shit to me. They scared me."

"So you figured you'd ghost me?" I ask.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"Yeah," I say. "Not exactly where I thought we were at, considering…"

"It's fucking inexcusable."

"I don't know." Honestly, I'm resigned to a shitty outcome. "If it's between me and Vaughn, the choice is obvious."

"There shouldn't have to be a choice," he says.

"But if there is—if this is what it's gonna come down to, at least have the decency to break it off in person."

"I don't want to break it off. I never wanted that."

"Funny way of showing it."

"I fucked up. I was trying to protect you, and I fucked it up."

I sigh heavily, the weight of his choice pressing down on my shoulders. I wish I knew how to live without him. I wish I could find some peace in all this. Offer him some, too. How magnanimous am I feeling right now, though? "It's not fair."

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

"Quit fucking apologizing."

"What am I supposed to do, then?" he asks, a desperate edge to his words. "I'd get down on my knees if I thought I physically could. You didn't deserve any of this. I was careless with you and you mean everything to me. I love you so fucking much?—"

"Please stop," I say, unable to bear this. "Quit dragging this out and say what you came here to say. Is it over?"

"No!"

"Then what ?" I ask, my voice breaking.

"Forgive me, Matthew. Please. I had no intention of leaving you. None. I was trying to figure out how to keep us safe without dragging you into the middle of the mess I made with Nicole. That's all this was, and I see now I should have involved you in that. We should have been together—I could have fucking called, but it hurt. I wasn't sure I could hear you hurting without making everything worse."

I chew on my lower lip and try to keep the tears from surging. I know him well enough to believe what he's saying—it isn't that. Forgiving him doesn't take much. It's losing him that's the real threat. "You can't do this again, Fischer. You can't leave me hanging like this again."

"I know. I swear to God?—"

"Don't." I stop him again. He's drunk. I don't need drunken promises tonight.

"You know, you didn't call me either," he says sharply.

I feel the accusation like a slap. I glare at him. "You need to sleep this shit off."

"No." He shakes his head. "I need us to work this out."

Fine. I'll play. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you were finally taking the out."

"Well, that's a shitty thing to think."

"You never called, you never showed…"

"I did call, and I'm right here . And so was Gavin, by the way."

"He said you didn't send him."

Fischer gives me a disbelieving look. "Is he that good of a liar?"

I scowl. "Apparently." It's way harder to be angry with Fischer than with my family. My whole life—as bad of a brother as he was, as many times as he's broken my heart—I don't think I've ever actually been angry with him.

"I told you Raven was obsessed with you," I say, unable to argue his facts. Still, I'm not done arguing in general. All the adrenaline from smashing the tree hasn't left my system yet.

"I might have been having trouble seeing past my obsession with you," he says.

Fuck him for saying the perfect thing. The part of me that wants to strangle him is rapidly being replaced by the part that wants to hold him. I have no spine when it comes to him.

"I don't know whether that's a good thing or not," I admit. "Obsession is fun and everything, but it burns out. I want more than that with you. I always have." I also want to be someone he'll never leave again.

"I have to be honest with you about something," he spills.

I shut my eyes. If this is about Raven—if he was fucking her while we were fucking each other…

"I want you to have a life bigger than what I can give you."

I scowl. That's the last thing I expected him to say, and it's not giving let's stay together . "Meaning what?"

"Meaning I want you to be with someone who can be out with you. Show you off. Kiss you and hold your hand in public. At this point, I can't offer you that, and I don't think I'll be able to for years. If I didn't have Vaughn, I'd ask you to move away with me. Leave this town and all the judgment behind."

"I understand you can't leave Vaughn. I'd never ask that. I wouldn't love you half as much if you felt like you wanted to walk away from your kid for some guy you like to fuck."

"That's so reductive," he says, sounding insulted.

"You just said you don't want a relationship with me, Fischer. I don't know how you thought I'd take that, but you're not stupid. You had to know it wouldn't settle well."

"That's not what I said at all. I said I can't be out with you. And that you deserve someone who can be."

"Fine. What fucking difference does it make? You're breaking up with me. I get it."

"I'm not ," he says more firmly. His hand lands heavily on my leg. "Matthew—are you okay?"

"Why would you ask me that? No, I'm not fucking okay. First of all, I don't like anyone thinking you're some sort of predator, second, I don't like people looking at me like I'm a goddamn victim. Third, I can barely function anymore without you, and after all that—I've got nothing to show for it. I've got fucking nothing. No job. No brother. No boyfriend."

"No tree," he says.

"Fuck the fucking tree, Fischer. The tree was sparkly bullshit."

"I loved it," he says, and he sounds all choked up.

I fight the urge to shake him. I said some important shit just then, and he's still hung up on the tree.

"Is this what it takes to be together?" he asks. "We have to lose everything first?"

Okay, so he was listening. "It doesn't sound like you want us to be together.

"I wish you would just shut the fuck up and listen to me."

"That's not what I need to hear right now, at all," I say.

"Maybe I should come back in the morning," he says. "Start fresh."

"It is morning. And you're not going anywhere. You're barely awake."

"You used to like that."

I roll my eyes and stand. Facing him, I offer a hand. "Get up. You're going to bed."

He looks up at me, suddenly all dreamy-eyed. "I fucking missed you."

I shake my head. "To sleep."

Fischer takes my hand and rises, shoving his body against mine and planting his face in my neck. I am instantly hard for him, my dick jolting in my shorts like it got zapped by a cattle prod. "Fischer," I groan. "We're not doing this tonight. Everything's a mess."

He runs his hands up my chest and inhales like he's getting high off touching me. It's not helping.

"You're not sober," I say as I try to keep myself from melting into him.

"I need you." His fists tighten in the fabric of my shirt. "This can't be wrong, it can't be. It's so right. I love you. So fucking much. So fucking long, baby… Shit …"

His forehead meets my shoulder, and I hold him up because he's sinking. I gather he hasn't been sleeping either. He's practically dead on his feet.

I can't pick him up. Destroying the tree took a lot out of me, and the loneliness flu didn't leave me energy to spare. Together, we stumble toward the bed, and he falls first, slipping from my grasp as soon as his shins hit the mattress. I settle down beside him, helping him up the bed to the pillows where I rearrange the mess I've made and give him his nest to lie in. Fully facing him, with my eyes wide open and his shut, I stroke his face, my thumb moving back and forth across the stubble on his cheek. Unable to help myself. Missing him so much .

My cock is rock hard, begging me to do something about this gorgeous sleeping man in front of me who just told me he needed me, but I let it ache. While I'm fairly confident he'd be thrilled to wake up with me inside him— all is forgiven, right? I wouldn't be okay with it. Nothing is settled. He could leave in the morning and never look back—setting me free to find "what I deserve."

This last week has been so painful, I have to forgive myself for snuggling closer to Fischer, even if it means my dick is smashed up against his, which isn't altogether soft either.

"Fuck, dude," I sigh, wrapping an arm around him and kissing his forehead. "You will never stop scaring the shit out of me, will you?"

"Matty?" he murmurs.

"It's me. I'm right here. I've still got you."

I wake up, and we're grinding. Opening my eyes, I find his still closed. It was actually his voice that woke me. He's talking in his sleep again. "Wanna get it in me…"

Fuck, this feels good. "Fischer," I whisper.

"Stop, it feels too good…I can't…"

"Fischer, it's me." Goddamn, I'm dangerously close to kissing him to shut him up.

" Unh…fuck… "

It takes everything I've got not to sling his leg across my waist, whip out our dicks, and go to town. Regretfully, I slide my hand between our grinding hips and physically push him back.

He startles awake and immediately cups his crotch. "Jesus," he whispers, seeing me, realizing he's at the loft. Reality seems to crash in on him at once, and his body gives a powerful shudder accompanied by an obvious cry of shocked release.

I flinch. Fuck, that has to either hurt or be so embarrassing he wishes it hurt more.

He's lucky he's still got a lot of clothes here.

"Can I, uh…do anything?" I ask.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Bet that wasn't what you wanted to wake up to."

"That's not exactly what I woke up to," I tell him.

With both hands covering his crotch, he whips his head my way. "What did I do? Was I talking?"

"A little."

He groans, turning his back to me.

I turn away, too, not needing the view of his ass. I take a few deep breaths to come back down from the high of nearly having him again.

"I'll be right back," he mumbles.

I get up when he does, putting on my shoes and dodging the area around the shattered tree on my way to the kitchen. I swept, but I won't trust the floor until I go over it with a mop a few times.

Fischer needs to hydrate, but he'll want coffee, so I put some on. I chug a glass of water in the meantime. The sun is out again. My heart feels like it's returned to my chest. I'm not sure if I get to use it yet, but I'll enjoy the feeling while it lasts.

He comes out of the bathroom naked from the waist down, and I avert my gaze while he digs through his dresser drawer and finds some fresh underwear and his favorite khakis. "Don't walk over here barefoot," I warn him.

"I'll just hang out here." He sits down on the bed, campfire style. He fusses with his hair while we both pretend not to be checking each other out.

"I assume you remember how you got here and everything," I say.

"I remember. I remember everything we said, too."

I hazard a glance his way. "You wanna stick with all that?"

"I want to circle back to where you assumed I wanted to break up with you."

"You're acting like I misunderstood something."

"I wasn't at my clearest. But I feel better now. Thanks for the ibuprofen by the way."

"You're welcome. So what do you have to say for yourself now?" I ask.

"Well, like I was saying—I can't give you the kind of life that's out and public. If it was just Nicole involved, I wouldn't care, but all this shit with Maggie and the Marches?—"

"I get it," I say, purposely cutting him off. "You don't need to worry about me. I'll figure something out to do. Probably won't be in this town, but I'll regroup."

" Ouch . That simple, huh?"

"Nothing about this is simple for me, and you should know that better than anyone," I say, bordering on angry.

"I don't know what I'd do if you left," he says bleakly.

"If we can't be together?—"

"Matthew—I'm willing to be with you no matter what it takes. But I don't expect you to feel the same way."

"You think I give a shit whether we can be together in public? When do I go out in public?"

I catch a glimmer of hope in his eyes before he seems to snuff it out.

"I don't think anyone wants a scandal," he says. "I think if we want to keep seeing each other, and we're discreet, then no one has a problem."

I frown. His coffee is ready, and I make him a mug, walking it over to him. He takes it, brushing my fingers and looking up at me.

"How pissed at me are you?" he asks.

"Not very. It's annoying, actually."

"It's okay that I came?"

"Yeah, I missed you," I tell him before walking back to the kitchen. "But you don't need to protect me."

He doesn't say anything, which leaves me floundering. This is either the end or a fresh start. Either way, whatever comes next is the beginning of the rest of my life.