Bound to Be His (The Archer Family Book 2)

by Allison Gatta

  "I do. Growing up—"

  "Fuck that. Your situation changed a lot. Sorry. It happened. You didn't work for that and have it mean nothing. You didn't have everything taken away from you."

  "I can't change what happened!" she rasped.

  "No, you can't, but you could have warned me. If you cared about me, you would have told me. You would have let me be prepared."

  "I didn't want it hanging over your head at the wedding."

  "No, you just didn't want to deal with it. You wanted to wait until the wedding was over and then I was my sister's problem again. Plus, you'd still get to fuck me before I found out. Pretty convenient there, Shay."

  "That wasn't it at all."

  "Well, it looks a hell of a lot like that from where I'm sitting, and the best part is, for once, I'm in control. We're not fucking talking about this. Not now. Not ever."

  He turned on his heel and headed back for the tent, leaving her there speechless. "You're going to behave as though nothing happened," he said. "My sister deserves as much on her wedding day. Don't come near me."

  Then he was a spec on the beach again, getting smaller and smaller while she watched him walk away from her.

  Forever.

  * * *

  The rest of the wedding went beautifully.

  Andy was the perfect bride—gracious and fun-loving, while Logan was the ideal groom—by her side all night long. Which, of course, left a hell of a lot of leeway for Matt to "run into" Shay. Over and over and over again.

  He'd go for a drink and she'd be leaning against the bar, or he'd walk outside the tent for a cigar and find her there with her hair in the breeze. It was no wonder he'd fallen for her, she was practically omnipresent. No, not fallen for her. That was too strong. Untrue.

  Besides, it didn't matter how he felt now. They were over. Within the next two days, they'd both be heading home. He'd be back in the minors, and she'd be able to go on focusing on her more important clients.

  Which was what he'd wanted in the very beginning, right? He wanted to fall off her radar? Wanted to be invisible?

  By the time the reception ended, Matt was sick of running into Shay that he couldn't even bring himself to go back to the beach house. Instead, he sat on the bluffs overlooking the ocean and leaned back, thinking of all the games he'd play this year. All the teams who could have drafted him and hadn't.

  His career was over.

  His whatever-it-had-been with Shay was over.

  And now? The wedding was over too.

  He reached into his pocket for the flask Logan had given him before the wedding, but found something square and thin and flat there instead. He pulled it out and looked it over in the moonlight.

  Shit, Shay's phone.

  He clicked the tiny button, more out of habit than curiosity, and noticed that the entire screen had been clouded out by little white lettering. Even without reading it, Matt could sense the utter panic behind every word, and he slid his thumb across to take the messages in.

  Shay. Answer me.

  Shay, why isn't Andy telling you I called? Did you two come up with some scheme?

  Shay, sweetheart, I need you. Please, now more than ever.

  Why won't you be here for me when I need you?

  You always do this. You're so selfish, you know that? Always avoiding things so that you don't have to deal with the unpleasantness.

  This is life, young lady. This is your family. Your responsibility.

  Matt blinked at the messages and then at the one that stood out to him most.

  You always do this. You're selfish... Always avoiding things so that you don't have to deal with the unpleasantness.

  Hadn't he said nearly the exact same thing to her before he'd turned her away? He had, he guessed, but that was different. He wasn't Shay's mother. He hadn't asked and asked and asked until she had nothing left to give. All he'd wanted was some honesty. Some decency. Some respect. And she hadn't bothered to give it to him. Hadn't trusted him with it.

  Which, of course, meant she pitied him just as much as everyone else.

  She wasn't different. Not where it mattered.

  He shook his head.

  He read over the messages again.

  You always do this. You're so selfish, you know that? Always avoiding—

  He clicked the screen off. Shay's mother would know they'd been read, he supposed. And if Andy was in on it, then it wouldn't be long before Shay knew the truth. But...

  He turned the phone over between his thumb and forefinger, and then allowed it to slip between his fingers and land in the ocean with a little plunk.

  There, he'd done his due diligence. She was free and so was he. If she wanted to pity him, she was more than welcome to. But him?

  He was going to live with his head held high.

  Even if every other part of his body felt like it was slowly withering away.

  Chapter 12

  Matt Archer woke to the feeling of something soft smothering him and rubbing the coarse hairs on his forehead into his skin.

  "What—" he tried, but his words were muffled by the pillow, and one down feather fell into his mouth.

  "Morning, sunshine." His brother's voice greeted him loud and clear from the other side of the pillow, and then the darkness was replaced with blinding light and a crisp, cool wash of air.

  "What the hell was that for?" Matt asked, slowly getting his bearings. He was on Derrick's couch, had crashed there after finally leaving the beach somewhere in the region of two in the morning.

  At that point, he hadn't known where to go. He couldn't go back to the villa, to face Shay. Couldn't face his sister—his poker face wouldn't hold up much longer. And he couldn't be near Logan. Couldn't see the pity and shame that always etched his friend's face when the injury came up.

  Which left only one place to go.

  So, he'd gathered up his things and made his way into the city, to the little place he'd only visited once before.

  "Old time’s sake."

  "Gee, thanks." Matt speared a hand through his hair and looked around.

  Even in the two years since his last visit, though, nothing much had changed about Derrick's apartment aside from the food in the fridge—and some part of Matt wondered if that had even changed all that much, either. It was plain. The walls were still the standard cream they'd probably been when Derrick had first moved in, and the tile floors were the same shade of terracotta. Other than that, nearly everything in the room matched in shades of beige and khaki and taupe—all second-hand or remainders from their old family home.

  Matt put his feet up on the coffee table, and it nearly buckled.

  "You got coffee?" Matt asked.

  "Making it, you lazy bum. You stay on a guy's couch and don't even bother to make him breakfast? What kind of cheap date do you think I am?"

  "The generous kind."

  "Didn't you have a date of your own?" Derrick raised his eyebrows. "Or are you going to tell me why you two spent the whole night avoiding each other like the plague."

  "We didn't—"

  "You did." Derrick nodded as the coffee began to percolate behind him.

  Matt got up and made his way over to the fridge, and then pulled out a carton of eggs. "Want some scrambled?"

  "Only if you're washing up after," Derrick said.

  "Lazy," Matt said, but searched around for the skillet, anyway.

  "Don't change the subject." Derrick plopped two pieces of toast into a toaster that looked like it had come straight out of 1960. Matt was shocked the thing didn't have a hand crank to operate it.

  "I'm not changing the subject. You said I should make you breakfast. You're the one who—"

  "Cut the shit." Derrick pulled two mugs from the cabinet above his sink, skirting silently past Matt.

  "Look, it's nothing. Our little thing was just for while we were on the island. We leave tomorrow. It's over."

  "No, it's not."

  "I'm telling you, it's over."

&nb
sp; "I saw the paper, Matt. You might be saying it's over, and you might be right, but there's more to this story than you're letting on and we both know it."

  "What does the paper have to do with anything? And how did you already get today's paper?"

  "It's called an iPad. And we're almost to spring training. They released the line-ups."

  "They..." Matt's voice drifted off.

  "You weren't on them."

  "No," Matt said flatly.

  "I'm sorry, man." Derrick made to put his hand on Matt's shoulder, but he ducked out of the way.

  "No reason to be sorry. I'm still playing ball. What's one more year?"

  "Don't come into my house and pull that bullshit with me." The words were soft, but Matt knew his brother better than to take them that way.

  "I'm not pulling anything. Don't you remember what Dad used to say? Every year I get to play is a blessing, right?"

  "He didn't mean you had to be thrilled about every setback, though," Derrick said.

  "I really don't want to talk about this."

  "Okay, then we won't. You don't want to talk about Shay, either. You don't want to talk about Logan. What do you want to talk about, Matt? You're running out of options."

  "I'm..." He shook his head and then cracked an egg into the pan. "You wanted scrambled, right? I can do over easy, too."

  "Scrambled is fine." Derrick frowned and then turned and poured their coffee into mugs. Silently, he sat one cup beside the oven and then made his way to the little breakfast bar. "We do need to talk," Derrick said, and though it had only been a moment since either man had spoken, it felt like a thousand-pound weight had dropped onto Matt's shoulders in that time. Why could nobody understand that he didn't want to talk? That talking made it worse?

  That talking made it real.

  "Derrick, look—"

  "I'm not going to bother you about work or Shay or any of that." Derrick held up his hand in surrender. "But we still need to talk."

  "What about?" Matt scrambled the eggs in the pan and then reached for the salt and pepper shakers.

  "Mom."

  Matt stopped short and then slowly turned his gaze to his brother's heavy, knitted brow. "What about her?" Matt asked.

  "She's here, in Hawaii. I wanted to tell you, but Andy—"

  "Andy knows too?" Matt's jaw slackened.

  Derrick nodded. "We didn't want to keep it from you, not forever. We just thought—"

  “How did you find out?” Matt asked.

  “She sent me a letter. What does it matter? Look, we need to—"

  "I knew. I knew, though," Matt said, more to himself than to his brother. "I knew she was here and she promised me. She promised me she would never contact you."

  "Wait, you—?"

  "I have to go." Matt moved the skillet from the burner to the oven mitt on the counter and sprinted for the door. "I'm sorry. We can talk about this later, but I've got to go right now."

  When he got to the park, he realized that she still wouldn't be there for another hour, but he was too anxious, too pent-up to wait in the car. Instead, he stalked out and paced the yard, waiting for her blue minivan to pull up, all the time stewing over what he could possibly say to a woman he should have known better than to trust.

  They'd made a deal, and a good one. He was going to give her money every month, and then she was going to keep her damned mouth shut about her whereabouts. She wasn't going to bother his siblings.

  She was going to be a decent human being for once in her life.

  Somehow, she couldn't even manage that. Figured.

  When her car finally did appear, it took all his inner strength not to rush to the driver’s seat and start screaming at the top of his lungs. He still didn't even know what he'd scream, but he knew it wouldn't be good. And since she'd likely brought her kids with her, it wasn't a scene he was willing to make.

  So he waited as the twins got out of the car and scuttled toward the swing sets, and then he folded his arms over his chest as Sharon ambled from the car and onto the turf. When she saw him, she blinked once and then had the nerve to smile.

  "Matt, I was wondering if we'd ever meet."

  "We've met," he said through gritted teeth, but she seemed to ignore the hostility. She swept across the ground, a book in her hand and that stupid fake smile still plastered on her face.

  "Yes, sorry, I know that. Insensitive of me. I just meant, well, in all these years I've never seen you."

  "You probably never wanted to, either."

  "Excuse me?" She raised her eyebrows, but her warm, jovial tone still hadn't changed. She still hadn't so much as acknowledged Matt's towered rage.

  "You are in this for the money. What, does your husband not make enough? You needed to extort the only other family—"

  She raised her hand. "Matt, I don't know where this is coming from, but I'd like it very much if you could start at the beginning."

  "You lied to me," he practically spat.

  "I... lied to you?"

  "You made me a promise. So long as I kept paying you—"

  "Ah, that." She nodded knowingly as if she herself had meant to bring this point up and he'd beaten her to it. "Well, I had a good think about it, and I decided that I couldn't allow you to determine whether or not the other kids knew about me. I'm their mother, and—"

  "You're not their mother. And I know what's good for them a hell of a lot more than you."

  "Now, Matt, honey, I know you're upset—"

  "Upset? Upset?" He was practically shaking but somehow managed to keep his voice down. A quick glance at the kids proved that, while confused, they weren't alarmed. Good. At least that was one thing going in his favor.

  "Well, with Andy getting married, I thought she might like the option of having me attend—"

  "You would have that right? You would ask that of her? Or was it just because she's another source of cash for you?"

  "I don't understand this obsession with the money."

  "You had a good long think and decided you'd tell Andy and Derrick where you are, but you wouldn't deny my checks?" He raised his eyebrows.

  "Well, honey, I read the paper. I've been keeping up on you. I know you won't be able to afford to—"

  "Keep you silent?" He shook his head. "You are unbelievable. I was right to have never spoken to you."

  "You—"

  "No, no, I'm talking now. You are despicable. Don't come near me or my family. Not ever again, you understand?" He made for his car, got behind the wheel, and sped off as quickly as he could.

  He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going, all he knew was the flood of release that washed over him as soon as he saw her stricken face.

  He'd been right on one count—this woman was not and never had been his mother. But talking to her? That was the best decision he'd made. All the feelings, all the hurt that he'd bottled up and hid away had finally come out, finally loosed themselves. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest, his shoulders, and for the first time in years, he could breathe properly again.

  His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find Derrick on the line.

  "Are you okay?" he asked in his low grumble.

  "I'm good, yeah."

  "Good, you asshole. I've been calling all morning, and you haven't bothered to answer. What the hell happened this morning?"

  "Something that should have happened a long time ago," Matt said.

  "So you told Shay you love her, then?"

  Fuck. Shay.

  "Not quite," Matt said, and then parked on a side road. He glanced around. There was an AT&T store, an ice cream shop, a convenience store. His gaze narrowed on one of them, and he did his best to focus.

  "I think you might have been right," Matt said at last.

  "About what? What the hell—"

  "I've got to talk. About some shit. And, you know, I should probably... the thing with Shay..."

  "Well, fuck, man, don't tell me, tell her. I'm not going to
Dr. Phil you."

  Matt laughed. "Okay, cool. And... you know, thanks."

  "No problem. Call me back when you're lucid." The call ended with a click, and Matt stared down at it for a second before he realized he had another missed message.

  Shay got her flight moved up. Thought you might want to know.

  He read the words over again and then frantically texted his sister back for details. What did she mean getting her flight moved up? What did she mean just leaving like that? And who didn't give details for a message like that? Still, as he waited, no answer came, and he knew he only had one thing left to do.

  * * *

  A gentle knock sounded on Shay's bedroom door, and she nodded for Andy to step inside.

  She'd been packing her bag on and off for the whole of the morning. Really, she only had one thing left to pack—Matt's jacket, the one he'd lent her in the party store. God, how could something that happened so recently already feel like it had happened a lifetime ago? She shook her head at the thought and zippered her case closed.

  "Did I thank you for having me enough times?" she asked Andy.

  Andy smiled. "More than enough."

  "And you had a good time at your wedding?"

  "Perfect."

  "And my speech—"

  "Was amazing." Andy nodded. "Yesterday was a beautiful day. It was everything I could have ever wanted. But I don't want to talk about yesterday."

  "Hey, have you seen my phone?" Shay patted her pocket. "I can't remember the last time I saw it."

  "No, but that does explain some things." Andy flopped onto the bed next to Shay's case. "Why didn't you tell me about the divorce?"

  "On your wedding day?"

  "You didn't find out on my wedding day." It was a matter-of-fact statement.

  "No, but it's okay. What else is there to say? She's getting divorced. Again. I'll just replay the tape of the last six times we talked about this."