I swear my heart skips a beat. “Why would you do that?” I demand, surprised at the anger in my tone.
Apparently it surprises him as well. “I told you, if I was out of the way, the threat to you and Tyler was lessened. Not that it matters now. I should have said something. If I had, those people wouldn’t have died. But the second I set foot on the plane all I could think about was you and Tyler and how I needed to get back to you. I waited until the flight crew was occupied, snuck into the bathroom, and slipped off the plane through another access panel under the sink cabinet. It was dark enough nobody could see me and everyone was so preoccupied with the takeoff, I was able to just leave undetected. I hid out for a couple days at this shitty motel, made a few phone calls that couldn’t be tracked back to me, and waited until I could get home safely.”
“Leo called me,” I say quietly when Matthew finishes his explanation. “The day before the crash.”
Matthew freezes, slowly bringing his eyes up to meet mine for the first time in minutes. “What?” he breathes. I can’t quite figure out his expression, but it’s not good.
I nod, suddenly regretting saying anything about Leo. “Yeah. He was asking if you’d left anything with me to keep safe,” I say cautiously, watching his expression closely.
“And what did you tell him?” he asks evenly, barely moving his lips.
“The truth,” I respond. “You didn’t leave anything to keep safe, just the present in your jacket and I didn’t think that would be what he was referring to.”
He nods broodingly. “No, that wasn’t it,” he says quietly. “How long before you figured out the chip was in Tyler’s watch?”
“That same day. I thought it was broken and tried to take it from him. He’s never thrown a tantrum like that.” I swear there’s a shadow of a smirk on Matthew’s face. “Then he told me you said you’d fix it when you got back. And after Leo called, I connected the dots.” My annoyance at what he’d done returns. “And while we’re on that subject, the next time you want to give our son something that’s sought after by murderers and kidnappers, at least have the decency to mention it to me.”
He does smile this time, though it’s an apologetic, sheepish smile. “I should have told you,” he agrees. “But what would you have done if you’d known exactly what I put in that watch?” He doesn’t even give me time to answer. “As much as I wanted the damn thing gone, I didn’t want to see it smashed into a million pieces. And if you’d done that, I never would have found you and Tyler in time.”
I don’t know if it’s the painkillers or if he’s really not making sense, but I have no idea what he means. “How did you find us?” I ask.
“GPS tracker,” he tells me immediately. “In the watch with the chip. When I realized you were missing, I activated it and desperately hoped like hell you and Tyler hadn’t been separated and that Tyler was still wearing the watch.” He must see the shocked expression on my face because his own softens. “You didn’t actually think I’d leave the two of you without some way of keeping you safe, did you? I only trust human error so much and at some point I need to have some semblance of control for myself. This was how I was able to do that.”
Nodding faintly at his words, I suddenly remember Tyler speaking up while we were on that boat, showing me how his watch was blinking a light. That must have come from Matthew activating the GPS tracker. I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if Matthew hadn’t been the overprotective, paranoid rich boy obsessed with his toys that he is. “Thank you.”
He blinks a couple times as though he doesn’t understand my words, or like he’s expecting me to shout at him for putting our son in danger. In all honesty, I probably should do some shouting, but that can wait. There’s still far too much Matthew and I need to discuss, and shouting won’t help either of us get through it. “You don’t have to thank me, Sam,” he says softly, finally reaching out for my uninjured hand. “And you can tell me all you want that this mess isn’t my fault, but we both know damn well it was. What matters is you’re okay.”
“Mostly,” I mutter.
He doesn’t ask me to elaborate; probably already knowing what’s on my mind. “Claire came to see me yesterday,” he says, running his thumb over the back of my hand gently.
I roll my eyes. “I asked her not to bother you,” I tell him. “I didn’t send her.”
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “I know you didn’t send her,” he tells me gently. “I will say, though, that if she wasn’t my baby sister, there is no way in hell I would put up with her shit. She barged into my office, scaring the shit out of both me and Leo, pretty much scared Leo out of the room, then proceeded to tell me what a total and complete douchebag I am.” He cocks his head from side to side a couple times. “Which is probably true.” The teasing edge leaves his body completely. “I owe you so many apologies for the way I’ve behaved.”
“Matt...” I need to stop him before he gets back to the self-deprecation or I’m going to get out of this bed, pain or not, and slap the shit out of him.
“Claire said some things I need to ask you about,” he says, acting like he didn’t hear me at all. When I try to pull my hand from his, he only holds it more tightly. “When I told you I would have no problem flying Saunders out here until you were recovered enough to fly back to Omaha, that was a bald-faced lie. If I have my way, I’ll never see that asshole again. The reason I said what I did was because you seemed to want him here. It doesn’t matter how much I hate the bastard, if he’s what you want, I can’t stand in the way of that.”
I swear to God if I had a free hand, I would find something to throw at his head. “Why in the hell would you think he’s what I want?” I ask in shock. “Matt, why do we have to keep having this discussion? I thought I was pretty clear on the matter; you’re the one I want. The only one I’ve ever wanted, and the only one I will ever want. I’m pretty sure you’ve said those exact words to me a hundred times, but anytime I try to repeat them to you, you seem to not hear me.”
Why does he look angry with me now? “Why would you do that to him?” he whispers, dropping my hand as though it burned him. “I don’t like the guy, but denying him the chance...” He stands suddenly and fists his hands in his hair. “Fuck, Samantha! That’s not fair.”
Maybe Matthew’s been taking hits off my pain medication drip. “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask him, trying not to laugh or cry. I’m not sure which at this point. He doesn’t answer, only paces around the room like a caged animal. And then it hits me: why he’s acting like this; why he’s so insistent that I go back to Tom; why he’s suddenly pissed off when I told him I have no desire to go back to Tom.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, my eyes wide. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Matthew James Young!”
The use of his full name in my “mom voice” stops his pacing dead. He turns to look at me with wide eyes.
“You think the baby is Tom’s?” The absurdity of the question hits me immediately and if the circumstances were different, I’d probably be laughing hysterically. But given the look on his face right now, I know this is what’s been bothering him for days, why he’s avoided me like the plague. It’s why he’s so set on keeping his distance. And I don’t need him to answer. “Matt, please sit down.”
He hesitates for a fraction of a second, but finally does as he’s told, eyeing me warily.
“It’s not Tom’s.”
The number of emotions that flash across his face in a matter of seconds is almost staggering—anxiety, fear, excitement, disbelief, incredulous joy, shame, love. “What?” he breathes. I can only nod. He falls back into the chair as though someone’s pushed him, his eyes wide. “How do you know?” His question is filled with an almost desperate hope.
Sighing, I roll my eyes at myself, unable to believe I’m actually about to have this conversation with him. “Because Tom and I always used protection,” I say quietly, my eyes locked somewhere around my knee.
I d
on’t have to look up to know he’s confused. “Every time?” he asks skeptically.
Nodding, I chance a glance at him, finding him staring at me as though I have two heads. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I smile a little, looking away again. “A couple reasons,” I begin. “One is that Tom is incredibly old-fashioned and doesn’t believe in having a child out of wedlock.” Matt snorts sardonically. “And the other is because I didn’t want to take the risk.”
“Risk of what?”
“Having a child with someone who’s not you,” I mutter, feeling my face heating up. I have no idea why I’m suddenly embarrassed around Matthew of all people.
I hear him pull his chair closer to my bed. “Samantha, look at me,” he demands, his voice thick with emotion. I shake my head slightly, but don’t look at him. He sighs and stands, and the next thing I know the mattress on my bed is sinking with the weight of him sitting beside me. I feel the gentle pressure of his thumb and forefinger on my chin, tugging my head to meet his gaze. I’m shocked to find him smiling at me. “That’s how you really felt about it? Having someone else’s child?”
I nod as much as I can with him holding me in place. “Yes,” I whisper. “It didn’t seem right. I love Tom and I know he’ll make a wonderful father—hell, he was incredible with Tyler—but I was always afraid I’d resent any child I had with Tom if for no other reason than I’d know it wasn’t yours. What the hell kind of mother does that make me, Matt?”
“You’re an incredible mother,” he tells me, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. “Please don’t ever think any differently.” I look up through my eyelashes half-expecting him to lean in and kiss me. Instead he’s just watching me as though he’s trying to figure me out, which is just insane considering he’s the person who knows me best in the world. “Samantha, I’m only going to ask once, mostly because I’m well aware a man should never ask a woman this question...” He waits for me to nod before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he worked out the wording for what he wants to ask. “Am I going to be a father again?”
I smile. “Yes,” I whisper.
His eyelids slide shut slowly like he’s savoring that one word. I feel one of his hands slide from my chin to my neck, then slide to the back, cupping my head gently. “Thank fuck for that,” he breathes against my lips before kissing me in a way I think I might actually melt. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead between my neck and shoulder, pressing tiny little kisses to my skin. “I love you. The second you’re out of this hospital, you and Tyler are coming home with me. Don’t leave me again, Samantha.”
“I could say the same to you,” I respond, bringing my good arm up to touch him as best I can.
Sitting back, I see his eyes watering and his lips smiling. “Fair enough,” he says. “Not that you’re getting rid of me again.”
And with that, he gently pushes me back onto the bed, kicks off his shoes, and curls up beside me, our entwined fingers resting over my belly. For the first time in days, I fall asleep easily and happily.
24
I push open the shower door allowing the steam to escape and step out carefully, reaching out blindly for a towel to dry off. Somewhere outside the bathroom, I hear high-pitched giggling and deep, rich laughter, and I smile to myself as I remove the bag I have taped over the plaster cast on my left arm.
The last few weeks have been interesting to say the least. A couple days after Matthew and I had our conversation in the hospital, the doctors overlooking my care decided I was well enough to leave and, true to his word, Matthew was right there to take me home with him. Claire and Danny were waiting for us at the house along with their kids and Tyler, and we spent most of the evening on the back deck with Leo, the grill running and the liquor flowing. Well, for them; I was relegated to soda and water. At some point I fell asleep in my chair and when I next woke, I was in bed with Matthew’s arms around my middle and the gentle breeze of his breath on the back of my neck.
Thankfully, this is how I’ve woken since I got out of the hospital. The few nightmares I’ve experienced—usually involving something happening to Tyler—or waking in the middle of the night because I hear a strange sound in the house and thinking someone has broken in have left me on the brink of panic and only Matthew’s presence has kept me from running through the house to get to Tyler or calling the police. Matthew has been incredibly understanding about the nightmares and paranoia, holding me until I calm down, reminding me he’s there and not going anywhere even when doing this means he loses sleep of his own. Sometimes we’ll just lie together and talk quietly about whatever comes to mind; sometimes he distracts me with more physical pursuits; sometimes we don’t do anything more than wrap our arms around one another.
Getting into a normal routine has taken a little longer than I thought it might. Matthew is trying to balance his work life, investigation into everything that’s happened, and spending as much time possible with Tyler and me, and I know it’s putting a strain on him. But of course he tells me he’s fine whenever I ask and immediately changes the subject to anything else. Today will be the first day he’s had to get any sort of relaxation, even though we both know there won’t be much of that going on.
Sighing, I wrap myself in a robe, step out of the bathroom, and head to the bedroom door, poking my head out to see Matthew and Tyler tangled up on the floor wrestling and giggling. I always knew they’d be great together, but it doesn’t seem to matter how often I walk up on a scene like this; without fail, my heart warms and my eyes water. I’m inclined to believe it’s hormones, but I’m starting to think I’m wrong. Clearing my throat to get their attention, I try to arrange my expression into something sterner knowing I’m failing miserably.
They both look up at me breathless, faces flushed, and huge grins. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“We were,” Matthew tries to tell me, reaching over to set Tyler on his feet. “Tyler couldn’t find his shoes.”
I look pointedly all around the hallway where we’re standing in search of the shoes. “Well, I think you’re looking in the wrong place,” I tell him, crossing my arms and leaning against the frame of the bedroom door.
Matthew snorts a laugh. “Right you are,” he mutters. “Ty, I think I saw them in your bedroom. Go get them on before Mom gets upset.”
Tyler and I roll our eyes at the same time, causing Matthew to laugh, and I retreat back into the bedroom. The door remains open and Matthew steps through a few moments later, closing it softy behind him. I’m in the closet, sorting through the different pieces of clothing and wondering how much longer I’ll be able to fit in any of this stuff. With Tyler, I didn’t really get much time to gain much weight before his birth and the memory of those long weeks at the hospital not knowing if we’d ever take our son home come rushing back. I’d been told a few times that the first pregnancy was always the most difficult, but they’re rarely that difficult and it was a concern that my next pregnancy might have similar results. Yet another reason Tom and I were so careful.
Of course thinking about that reminds me of the doctor’s appointment Matthew and I had two days ago. It was the first check-up on our baby and I’ve never been more nervous about anything. Considering what I’d been through with my injuries there was some concern about whether the baby had survived all that. But the moment the doctor found the image she was looking for and pointed it out for Matthew and me, we both knew we’d gotten incredibly lucky in that respect. We even heard the very faint, rapid heartbeat and I got to see Matthew’s face as he stared in wonder at the monitor—I’d forgotten how much I loved that expression on his face. Before we left, the doctor printed off several ultrasound images for us to take home. Then we got to have a wonderful conversation with Tyler about how he’d soon be a big brother, but for now, it was a secret. I don’t think I’ve ever been more amused by Matthew’s discomfort thank I was when Tyler asked him later that evening where ba
bies come from.
“What are you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from behind me.
I turn around and smile at Matthew. “Life,” I tell him, then turn around to pick my wardrobe for the day. “Are we telling anyone about the baby?”
He’s quiet for several moments, knowing I’m deflecting the original question he asked me. “That’s up to you, I suppose,” he says. “Claire and Danny know, of course. I know my mom would be thrilled, but I understand your reticence about telling anyone else.”
I covertly roll my eyes, thinking he doesn’t know the half of it. “We can tell your mom,” I say quietly. “If you want.”
Selecting a pair of skinny jeans, knowing it will be months or longer until I can wear them again and a loose fitting sweater since it’s on the chilly side outdoors, I begin to dress, trying to ignore Matthew’s eyes on me from the moment I remove the robe to the moment I pull on my socks. I turn to him, finding his gaze has gotten rather glossy. “Can I help you?” I ask in a bored tone I know won’t fool him.
He only smirks and pushes himself off the doorframe, stalking towards me and resting his hands on my hips. “There are several ways in which you can help me,” he says softly, pressing himself against me until I gasp and placing little kisses on my neck. “Unfortunately we don’t have time for any of them.”
“Tease,” I grumble when he moves away.
Throwing a grin at me over his shoulder he leaves the closet. “Oh, I meant to ask you,” he begins. His voice is muffled and I imagine he’s changing clothes himself. I practically sprint out of the closet before it’s too late to catch the show and nearly trip over my own feet to reach him. “Danny’s firm is allowing him use of some beach house in Cape Cod in a few weeks and he thought it might be a good if we all went together. You, me, Tyler, Claire, and the kids, I mean. And I think I promised to take you and Tyler somewhere when I got back, though this isn’t exactly what I had in mind...” He trails off, frowning as he searches the drawers of his dresser for a t-shirt. “What do you think?”
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