I know this, but the fact that the reality of Matt may be closer to Patch’s version than mine hurts like hell. The flatness in my voice is from that, not from still being annoyed at Patch—though I still am, a little. It’s fading now that I’ve got a bigger emotional pile to dig through than my brother being an overprotective jerk. “I know. When do you need it?”
“Can I come over now?”
“Sure.”
“See you soon.”
Should I start drinking now, or wait until my brother gets the bike and goes? My self-control probably isn’t to be trusted right now, so I’ll wait. He’ll start asking questions if I’m half a bottle of wine deep when he arrives.
I can’t call Chug—she’s out on another date right now. No one else really knows about Matt and me, other than Dad and Patch, which is super unhelpful.
Why hasn’t Matt called me? The least he could do is call and apologize for being an out of control asshole.
Lying like a lump isn’t my thing, so I get dressed and head to the shop to get my street bike ready for Patch. Stale beer breath hangs in the air, registering a second after I trip over the body outside my door.
Matt.
A very drunk—make that obliterated—Matt, is curled up on my doorstep. Sleeping, he looks way younger and nothing like the angry guy from earlier tonight. I wanted him to call—how long has he been here?
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I do neither, and nudge him with my foot.
“Hey. Wake up.”
“Andy,” he mumbles, still out of it.
It doesn’t warm my heart that he’s dreaming of me. He drank enough to kill someone and made it over here—putting more lives in danger if he drove, which he probably did. Goddamn it. I call for an uber, cuz I’m damn sure not going to drive him around like this, or take him back to those assholes, and sit next to him.
“Why, Matt? Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Want Andy.”
I bite my lip and stroke his hair. Why can’t this be simple? What the hell is even happening? He’s self-destructing before my eyes.
“Seriously, Andy? This is the guy you’re dating?”
I cringe. Perfect timing. “Shut up, Patch. Help me with him.”
Somehow we get him down the stairs and sidewalk just as the uber driver pulls up. I give him an extra fifty which makes him a little less grumpy about the state of Matt’s intoxication, and they pull away.
“Don’t even say a word.” I hold up a finger in Patrick’s face. “I’ve had a hell of a night and don’t want to hear it. I’m letting you borrow my bike as a favor, not because I’ve forgiven you for being a douchebag.” Or because he might be right about Matt.
“Understood.”
“And I expect you to return her with a full gas tank.”
“Geez, you bring it back half-full one time—”
“It was running on fumes!” Good humor rises a little again, and I punch his shoulder. “Be nice to her.” With the Matt distraction, I never got to tune it up, but I keep my machines in tiptop shape as a matter of pride.
“Oh, I will. I’ll be very nice to her.” He wags his eyebrows and snaps on his helmet he brought in his truck.
“Gross. I meant the bike, not your date.”
He wheels it out and grins on his way past. “I owe you one, sis.”
“A million-and-one more like. Just be good or I’m keeping your truck.”
“Sorry, can’t hear you over the sound of the bike.” He starts it and takes off down the street, putting along like a grandma on a Sunday drive.
I roll my eyes at his overly cautious driving and turn to walk up the sidewalk. The engine revs and he gains speed. I turn back in time to see him pop a cocky wheelie as he drives by.
“Hey!” I yell, flipping him the bird. So much for taking it easy on my bike.
He gives a jaunty wave, wobbles once, and with a loud bang, goes ass over end, smashing his head into the ground with a sickeningly loud sound.
Shock and horror squeeze the breath from my chest.
Momentum makes him skid forward six feet before the bike flips on top of his ragdoll loose body.
He doesn’t get up.
“Patch!” I scream, racing toward him as fast as I can. He had a helmet, but he’s not moving. Please, please be okay. Tears scald my cheeks.
I pat my pockets frantically on the way to him, but my phone’s upstairs. “Someone call nine-one-one!”
No one’s on the street to hear my screams.
THE CAB PULLS UP IN front of the shop. I try not to see the pieces of my bike that haven’t been cleaned off the street yet.
Try and fail. I manage to pay the driver and get to the front door without crying. My mangled bike sits on the sidewalk where Dad must have moved it before following to the hospital. I’m overtired and empty, hurting like it was me who fell from the bike instead of Patch, every inch of skin raw with emotional pain and tension.
How the hell did this happen? I keep my bikes in pristine condition. Patch isn’t a crappy rider, there’s no way he lost control of the bike. Is this because of me, something I screwed up and my brother paid the price for it?
Was it an accident, or all my fault? I lean close inspecting the bike, looking past the superficial damage, testing the brakes, checking the forks, but they’re fine. When I search the broken chain wrapped around the wheel, I gasp as disbelief stabs my chest.
That can’t be right.
The master link isn’t on the chain. Master links don’t just fucking fall off. My hands shake, going through the length of the chain, searching for it, but it’s not there, not anywhere on the ground around me either.
I run back to the street and search the ground, finding nothing, the truth hitting me hard enough to make my stomach turn.
This was no accident.
Someone meant to do this to my brother...no. This was meant for me.
They wouldn’t have known Patch was coming over to use my bike, so...I was the one who was supposed to be hurt. I swallow hard, my mind racing fast enough to make me nauseated.
Why? What have I ever done to someone to make them want to actually hurt, or kill, me? Who would do such a fucked up thing—and when? Oh god, did someone creep over while I was here, asleep or vulnerable, and sabotage my bike, hoping to hurt me? Fear prickles up my spine. I was here for a while last night, who would have had the time—
Matt was here last night.
My face and fingers go numb. I move up the stairs like a zombie, step over the place where I found him and into my apartment, locking the door behind me, unable to move, just standing and leaning against the wall, lost.
How drunk was he? Drunk enough to do something hurtful or stupid?
No. I can’t believe Matt would ever try to hurt me, regardless of the fact he was here at the time. He was too drunk to walk, never mind use tools and fine motor skills. He’s not a bad guy.
Images of a bloodied face flicker through my mind, reminding me Matt’s not the completely reformed bad boy I thought he was. He beat the shit out of that racer for no real reason at all, even when I screamed at him to stop. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought I did.
Friction burns my shoulder as I slide down the wall and curl into myself on the floor. My throat aches as doubt creeps in through the cracks of worry and exhaustion that made their way into my heart while I paced the hospital hallways all night waiting for Patch to wake up.
Wanting Matt to be good, believing in him won’t make it so if it’s not reality.
And I’ve had enough reality in the last sixteen hours to last me a lifetime.
Did he come to apologize, or to start something else? How the hell can I ever see him again with this laying between us?
See him. Oh my god, that’s it!
The security camera.
I scramble to my feet and to the small security system in the corner of the kitchen. It backs up automatically to a server so we can review it as needed. It only
catches the outside of the building—thankfully—or Patch would have seen more of Matthew and me in the garage than he’d have liked when he was reviewing the footage of the vandalism.
The knot in my stomach tightens and I focus on the screen.
It’s strange to watch my life in reverse, and I go extra fast past the part where I haul ass up the stairs crying to grab my phone and call for an ambulance, and then run back down to Patch.
Past where I leave with Patch.
Past the part where I found Matt on my steps and Patch arrived in time to help me get him out and pour him into a car to get out of my sight.
Past the part where Matt weaves his way on unsteady feet up to my door—taking a good five minutes to achieve this. How the hell he made it over, I have no idea. Idiot’s lucky he didn’t crash and kill someone else or himself.
Past the part where I got home from the race, tears dripping from my cheeks, defeat weighting my steps.
Past Matthew’s Dad slinking up the sidewalk to the back, and tampering with my bike before taking off.
My thumb convulses over the remote’s pause button.
It wasn’t Matt. Matt was at the race with me during this time, not at my place.
Guilt gnaws at me for doubting him for a second, but I push it away. I never really thought he’d been the one who’d tampered with my bike.
My heartrate races frantically before stalling.
The man I’m in love with didn’t hurt my brother, accidentally or on purpose, but his Dad did.
His family, who threatened me through my brother, made good on their threat, only I wasn’t the victim. It was supposed to be me on that bike. Me in the hospital. Me getting hurt—maybe more. It doesn’t make it worse—my brother took the attack that was supposed to be mine, but it doesn’t make it better either. It wasn’t an accident at all. Anger seeps into the exhaustion, tainting the edges of my grief.
Did Matt know? I can’t even imagine he’d go along with something as ugly as this, but what kind of future can we have when his family hates me so much they’re willing to literally put my life in danger? Why? What do they have to gain from me being hurt?
I will never forgive them for hurting Patrick, and my family won’t either. I doubt they’ll even give Matt the benefit of the doubt of being innocent.
Hot tears of relief drip onto my thighs.
My buzzer goes off, and I cross quickly to it. Dad might not have called first if he stopped by after the hospital, but I’m glad he’s here; I need the support right now. I buzz him up and unlock the door, pacing around. I need to tell him what I saw in the security footage, but I have to do it without stressing him out that I’m dating the enemy, since that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Am I still? Are Matt and I over? Do I want us to be?
“Andy?” Matt pushes through the door looking as rough as I feel.
Dark shadows play up the color of his red-tinged eyes. I want to hug him and shove him out my door. Front door, bedroom door, I’m not sure yet.
“What are you doing here?” Too many emotions snarl at my mind for dominance. The sobs shake my body so hard I can’t breathe, wracked with anger at his family, pain for my brother, and relief at the look in Matt’s eyes—concern and sadness, but no guilt. I’ve got plenty of guilt of my own—Patch didn’t crash because I’d been lax with my bike’s maintenance, but the crash was meant for me.
He’s hurt because of me.
But Matt didn’t do it.
Exhaustion and relief knock the strength from me. Matt catches me before my legs go out and guides us to the couch.
“I came as soon as I heard about Patch. Is he okay?”
I nod. “He had a really bad concussion and didn’t wake up for hours, fractured wrist, broken thumb, cracked ribs, but he’s going to be okay.”
He shakes his head angrily. “My dad is a fucking asshole. I’m so sorry he did this to your brother.”
Maybe Matt has the answers I need. “Why? Why did he do it? What did I ever do to him that could explain this level of hatred? I could have died. Patch could have died.”
Matt’s arms tighten around my shoulders, and I let him pull me into his embrace, taking comfort despite my need for answers. He shakes his head. “I wish I could tell you what goes on in my Dad’s head. He’s an evil fuck, Andy, always has been, but I never thought he’d do something on this level. Maybe he saw how happy you make me and wanted to take that away.”
I pull out of his arms and scoot away from him on the couch, roughly wiping the tears from my cheeks. He’s angry but not surprised his dad did this. “You knew. You didn’t just know about Patch being hurt and the accident. You know it was your dad.” My heart plummets into my stomach. “I only just found out a minute ago—no one else knows. Did you know this was going to happen?”
“What? No.” Horror tinges his wide eyes. “I promise I had no idea something like this would happen.”
His words aren’t quite right, they’re oddly specific. “Patch told me your family threatened me and the shop about the same time you rolled back into town. The day we went for our picnic and the shop was vandalized, I bet that was your family too.” Oh god, how bad is this? How much did he know? “Maybe you weren’t taking me out so they’d have easy access. Maybe it’s a giant coincidence and you’re not a part of whatever the hell they had planned, but you knew something would happen and dated me anyway?” Please say no.
He licks his lips. “My family are awful. They’re a huge part of the reason I tried to stay away from you when we started seeing each other, but there’s no way in hell I’d ever have gone along with something like this, or allowed them to hurt you.” The indignation blazing in his eyes that I’d suggest such a thing is tempered with sincerity. “How did you find out my dad screwed with your bike and hurt Patch?”
“How did you find out?”
“I heard him and my uncle talking about it and I freaked. Luke told me your brother was hurt instead of you. I came right over as soon as I heard—after screaming at them for a while. Trust me when I promise you I’ll never have anything to do with them ever again. They’re no longer my family.”
He seems sincere, and sufficiently full of rage, so I point to the security system with Matt’s Dad frozen on the screen while I keep my gaze on Matt. Raw disgust pulls his face into a mask of hatred, and he clenches his teeth so hard muscles stand out on his jaw. If he was a part of this, he should be an actor for this performance alone.
Still, I have to ask. “You’re telling me you never knew he was going to screw with my bike to try to sabotage me?”
“No. I knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to exploit what we have once they knew I had feelings for you, but nothing like this. I tried to hide the way I feel about you from them. Guess I wasn’t very successful.”
I sit back and cross my arms, vulnerability rampaging through me. “What exactly do we have? What can we have? Besides the fact you’re only in town visiting and there’s a countdown to our time together, how the hell do we have a future when your own father wanted to possibly kill me? Because I can’t see a way around that.” The words hurt as much as the realization they’re true. We can’t ride off into the sunset together with all these roadblocks in the way.
Matt shakes his head and reaches for my hand. I pull it away, and he drops his arm. “He is not my father anymore. Please don’t tell me you think I’m like them. That I’m capable of hurting this way.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I also never thought someone would try to kill me.”
“You know me, Andy.” His voice trembles with hurt, like the conviction and security he found with me have been rattled to the core.
I know how he feels. Do I really doubt him? One look in his eyes and I know he’s innocent in this. “I know you’re not like them. But”—I hold my hand up at the relief flooding his gaze—“it doesn’t change the fact we’ve got an expiration date. Maybe we should cut our losses and realize the truth. We were only ever
going to be temporary.”
“Don’t say that, don’t downplay what we have as though we’re just some summer fling.”
“Aren’t we?”
He winces and kneels in front of me before I have time to blink twice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Matthew
My family’s broken her, done this to her, made her doubt everything about us, but she has to know the truth.
I woke up feeling like microwaved death, barely remembering last night, only that I’d somehow gone to Andy’s and woken up back at Dad’s. Guilt and shame and the world’s worst hangover mingled inside my head and belly, and I was sure I’d never felt worse in my life.
Then I eased my way to the kitchen, took something for my headache and chugged a bottle of water, and heard Dad and Uncle Kingsley celebrating, and felt lower than I’ve ever felt. Even agreeing to a small part in their plan made me feel an inch tall—and furious. Luke was the one who held me back, told them their plan to hurt Andy had failed and her brother had been injured instead, and I headed straight over here.
I kneel between her legs, hips framed by her knees, and set my hands on the tops of her thighs, not to seduce but to show her, remind her of our connection. “I’d never have done anything to hurt you or your family. I swear to you. I’ve done some things since being back in town I’m not proud of. Things old Matt would have joined in with but make me sick. It doesn’t matter that I did them for good reasons, I’m still going to have to live with those things.” Like letting them think I was seducing her to take her out of the races. Like not being honest with her from the start, knowing someone was out to get her in some way, even though I never thought they’d go this far. I’m not guilt-free, though. I ran drugs for Aaron Samson. “I never saw you coming. You’re the most unexpected, welcome thing I’ve ever known in my life. I’ve never met anyone like you, Andy Perris. You make the rest of the world pale in comparison, and I forget everything else when I’m with you. I can just be who I am. You take away all the bad things by being so fucking good.”
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