Chapter 10

The light in the bedroom was too bright. Rolling over, Matt winced, then threw an arm up to shield his eyes. He tried to sink back into his dreams, to the cushioned fortress his mind had built. A reality where the worst thing that happened was a spanking, and the best...well, the best was the dream he’d awakened from. One in which Lawson loomed over him, stretching his arms over his head as he’d pushed slowly into him, a gruff ‘Such a good boy’ on his lips.

Dick fucking air, he’d woken crying out to an empty bed, in a pool of too much sunshine.

“Fuck.” He sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, looking around for Lawson…

And remembered.

His breath caught and the tears began again.

“Goddamn you!” He shouted at the ceiling and punched the pillow, letting the sobs roll over him until he choked.

It had been four days. Four of the worst days of his life. He’d lost his mother, been homeless, and had to bring up Garet on his own after his father’s death, but he’d never felt so fucking alone. Lawson’s eyes, the moment he’d said ‘All I see is you’ played over, and over, strangling the air from his lungs until he had to bend over the side of the bed and puke up...nothing.

He lifted his head, gasping, and eyed the dinner Curtis had brought to him last night. The tomato soup and grilled cheese sat untouched on the nightstand. Somehow, he’d managed to convince the man he’d been eating, staying calm, and going about the motions of his week with just enough believability that he was allowed to slip away and be alone without question. Everyone’s eyes followed him, their pity crawling over his skin like a living thing. He hated them for it, and he hated himself for being such a fucking wuss.

If Lawson knew, he’d be ashamed.

Climbing from the bed, Lawson’s pajamas flopping over his hands, he snagged the tray from the nightstand and numbly set about breaking up the sandwich into bits and flushing it down the toilet with the soup. In the kitchen, he rolled up his sleeves and rinsed the dishes, without knowing how he really got from one room to the other.

His shower came next. If he didn’t keep up appearances, he knew the Mother Hens would descend and fucking cram food down his throat or, worse, make him sit on some ‘time out’ chair in the bar until he talked about his feelings.

How do they fucking think I feel?

Slamming down the shampoo, he swore when it toppled off the shelf, and began punching the tiles until something crunched in his right fist and he slid down the wall, unable to tell the water from his tears. Or maybe he was cried out. Who the fuck cared?

The water ran cold and he stood, hand cradled to his side, to turn the lever. Toweled off and dressed, he made sure to hide the chain he’d found in one of Lawson’s drawers under his shirt. Just to have something that belonged to his…

Shaking his head hard, he breathed deep and forced up his chin. Downstairs the bar would be quiet, but not for much longer. If he could manage to make the coffee and slip back upstairs, he might have another few hours alone before Curtis or Reed came to check on him.

He padded barefoot down the stairs, against the fucking rules, and scowled at the camera. The door clicked open and he shoved through, stalking into the bar and stopping short, irritation rolling over him. “What the fuck are you all doing fucking awake?”

Sitting on the bar Reed paused, cereal with day-glo marshmallows bobbing in milk spooned halfway to his mouth, a lollipop sticking out of the corner of his lips. Wren, at the coffee maker, had his finger poised over the BREW button. Rhodey, looking like he didn’t so much wear leather as ingest cows whole and leak the stuff from his pores, gave him a dry look. To his left, something moved, and he realized Noah, Jamie in his lap, sat at one of the hightops.

“Fuck.”

Rhodey shot Noah a look before he could even open his mouth. “Not a fucking word.”

Hiding his hand, Matt turned to leave the bar. No fucking way was he facing the goddamn Wonder Subs without a lot more coffee, alcohol, or both, in his system.

“Stop.” Rhodey frowned at Matt, striding across the bar to cut off his escape, faster than any human had a right to move this early in the morning. “Sit. Eat something. Have some coffee. Ignore everyone, I don’t give a fuck, but I won’t get the message through that you’re all right if I don’t see it for myself.”

Lip halfway to a snarl, Matt blinked, blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. “You talked to him? Where is he? What the fuck are they doing to him?”

“I’m working on it. And he’s okay.” Rhodey’s jaw tightened. “That’s all I can tell you right now. And that I have a contact. So we’re going to make sure he’s not focused on shit falling apart here, aren’t we.”

Gratitude quickening his breaths, Matt nodded. “Yes, sir.”

A small smile softened Rhodey’s hard features. Not much, but it was something. “Good boy.”

Swallowing hard, Matt looked away fast, searching for something to focus on. He clenched his fist just to feel the pain and breathed in sharply, glad to have a way to push past the emotion that would have everyone looking at him with even more sorrow than already oozed out of them into the fucking cracks between the floorboards.

Skirting around Rhodey, he went into the galley to grab one of the iced rolls Keiran had been experimenting with. He could eat it one-handed with a cup of jo and maybe get into the gym to set up for tonight.

Inside the galley everything gleamed, from the stainless industrial fridge to the gas burners and the black grill. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said Garet was sixteen again and on toothbrush patrol. His gaze softened at the memory, from a time when things had been so much simpler.

Jesus, I miss that.

Snagging a mug from the wall, he looped his finger through the handle and balanced a plate on his palm. In the bar, Reed read a comic and only glanced at him before licking milk off his upper lip while turning the page.

Better. This was better.

Looking around at the three subs who pretended he wasn’t there, he clenched his jaw. Coffee gurgled, filling his cup, and he added milk and sugar while counting to ten. He could do this. For Lawson. To make sure Rhodey gave him a good report. Then, when they figured out the mistake and he came home, it’d all be good. They’d be...them again. Him and Lawson.

He took his coffee to the seat he usually occupied next to Lawson’s and stopped. Stared at Lawson’s stool. His fucking hand rattled the plate against the mug, and he pretended coffee didn’t spill over his knuckles. Turning, he went to the smaller tables all the way across the bar near the door and sat with his knees pulled up to his chest.

From this vantage point, he saw the back of Noah’s broad shoulders and muscled neck, Jamie’s hair peeking over the top, and glared. Recalling the day Noah, Curtis, Lawson, and Doc had disappeared to rescue Wren and Jamie from a car accident, he frowned, slowing his chewing.

The sweet and doughy roll turned to ash on his tongue.

Wren caught his eye, a guilty frown tugging at his soft mouth, and something...clicked.

He stood, knocking his plate to the floor. “What the fuck did you do?”

Wren paled, taking a step back as though Matt had just pulled a gun on him. “I didn’t… I’m—”

“Quiet, Wren.” Noah’s tone was sharp, immediately silencing the sub. He inhaled very very slowly as he lifted Jamie onto another chair and turned. “This isn’t his fault.”

Matt stepped closer, darkness tunneling his vision on the man who’d made Lawson’s life a fucking misery since he’d returned.

“You know what I just realized?” He grinned, feral. “I don’t have a fucking Dom, and I can fucking challenge you whenever the fuck I want.”

A splash, a clink, and Reed’s bowl rolled across the bar as he jumped down and sprang in front of Matt. He shook his head, deep blue eyes pleading. “Matt, stop it. This isn’t going to help anything. Come on, let’s...let’s go up to my place. Find something to distract you—”

Shoving Reed to the side, Matt finished. “Tonight. Me, you. And the usual. Because I sincerely want to shove something up your ass.”

Noah stared at him, reclined in his chair, one arm rested on his bent knee. Something cold flitted through those gray eyes, but his tone was lifeless. “No.”