by E M Lindsey
Wyatt’s breath rushed out of his lungs, and he clung to Mat like he was falling. “Yes?”
“Ouais. Yes. Sí.” He shoved his fist under Wyatt’s hand and nodded it against his palm, saying yes in all the languages he knew. “You believe me?”
“I do,” Wyatt said, then laughed as he pulled back. “Thank you.”
Mat blinked in surprise. “For what?”
“Taking time with me,” Wyatt told him, and the words went straight to Mat’s gut, twisting and writhing in both pain and pleasure. “I don’t know if I could have gotten here without that. I was too afraid to be ready to move on. And I didn’t think I had a chance with you, but here we are.”
Mat kissed him softly. “Here we are. And soon we can move you out of this fucking broom closet and into a house made for grown-ups.”
Wyatt laughed again and held Mat against him. “Soon we can move us out,” he promised, and it was maybe the best thing Mat had heard in a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mat let out a small grunt as James launched himself onto the sofa, snuggling into Mat’s side. He was wearing his legs with the covers that Mat had carved up and decorated, and the grooves caught the light from the window as James kicked his legs up onto the table. He felt a surge of pride, like he often felt whenever one of the guys at the shop trusted them to ink their body, and knowing how important James was to him, made it feel even more.
“Okay, so in spite of the fact that you’re stealing my fucking renter and leaving me high and dry…” James started.
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t need his money. Besides, isn’t that one dude going to rent from you?” Mat said, referencing the journeyman who was due to show up any day that week. One of them had already secured a spot with Luke, but the second guy had asked for a place with accommodations. He hadn’t specified what kind beyond mobility, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. Mat couldn’t deny he had feel a little guilty taking Wyatt from James’ place, even if James had Rowan there full time.
James shrugged, leaning further into his best friend, careful not to dislodge Mat’s pen as he flowed over the lines on his latest sketch. It was abstract—geometrical, drawing on some of the feelings he was having about going back to school and revisiting the idea that he could still have the career he’d worked so damn hard for. “I’m mostly happy for you. Uh…is this weird now, by the way? Now that you’re not straight?”
Mat rolled his eyes, but he felt another pang of guilt for having kept it from James the entire time they’d known each other. Especially when James had trusted Mat with the deepest parts of him. “I’ve never actually been straight. Um…”
James seemed to hear the emotions in Mat’s tone, and turned to him, taking his hand. “You’re still the same person as you were before, and I ain’t gonna lie, man, it did sting to know you’d kept it. But comin’ from a guy who ran from gay almost all his life, you know I understand.”
Mat licked his lips, nodding as he looked down to where their feet knocked against each other. Mat’s reasons were so different from James’, but the feeling was the same. Mat had just carried his own burden, had denied himself, for so much longer. “This will never be weird between us. Okay? You’ll always be one of the most important people in my life.”
James’ cheeks pinked a bit, and he shrugged, settling further into the cushions. “So. Y’all need help with findin’ a place?”
Mat shook his head. “Wyatt’s been doing research when he has downtime at work. He wants to get something taken care of before he flies back to Canada since they have to do a home visit and everything.”
James’ brows furrowed. “You goin’?”
Mat shook his head again. “I can’t. I mean, I probably could if he really needed me, but I can’t stay there with him. I did some looking into the whole process, and he needs this time to bond with the dog without interference. To make sure it’s a good fit. And I think uh…I think he’s kind of freaking out about that too.”
James made a noise of understanding. It was rare for Wyatt to talk to anyone about Pomme, and Mat still didn’t know anything beyond that the dog had passed right in the midst of the shit-show that was the work investigation and divorce, but he knew right now was tough on his boyfriend.
“I’m worried about him goin’ by hisself,” James muttered. He picked at some of the perpetual oil stains on his cuticles and worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Me too, but he needs this,” Mat said. And he understood that too. As much as he wanted to tell Wyatt that he didn’t care if he had to stay in a hotel, he was going to be there, he knew it wouldn’t help matters any. Wyatt needed this. Not just to find his guide, but as a way of coping and moving on from Ioan’s attack.
It had been six weeks. Ioan had been charged and convicted, and he’d long-since left the country. None of them were sure what happened to the guy after that, though Mat had a suspicion Rowan was looking into it as best he could with some of the people he knew in law up in Canada.
The only thing that made Mat feel better about it was that Ioan wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t get within five hundred feet of Wyatt, and he and the boys would make sure the man couldn’t set foot in the state if they had to.
“Gonna be lonely without your man?” James asked after a beat.
Mat laughed. “Yeah, except uh…except there’s this thing I’ll be doing that should keep me occupied.”
James perked up. “You better spell those beans before I beat them out of you.”
Mat shoved at him. “Calm down, killer. It’s not that big of a deal. Just uh…so after Wyatt’s attack, when he was hurt, half of me wanted to lose my fucking mind, you know?”
James blew out of puff of air. “Yeah. I mean thank the Lord I don’t understand, but that night I got to thinkin’ about Rowan and what I’d do if anyone ever came at him like that.”
Mat nodded, staring down at his hand which was still clutching the pencil, though he’d long-since stopped drawing. “There was a part of me—a part of the old me—that snapped into action. Knew what to do, stayed calm, got Wyatt taken care of.”
“You’ve always been level-headed, sugar,” James told him quietly. “Just because it was Wyatt don’t make that different about you.”
Mat bit his lip, nodding. “Yeah. But it also reminded me that the accident took a lot, but it didn’t take everything. I think I was too scared to really go down that road, but then Wyatt started telling me about blind doctors, and…shit.” He breathed out. “I think I want to go back.”
James blinked rapidly, and Mat braced himself for anger or rejection. Going back meant giving up all of this. It meant leaving the shop—maybe part time at first, but eventually full-time because he wouldn’t have the time or the energy to do both. It felt like abandoning his family, and the very thought sent him reeling.
But he also knew that he hadn’t been given a choice when he left the hospital. An asshole behind the wheel with a cell phone had done it for him, and he’d only walked this path because he didn’t think he had any other options. And it wasn’t until now that he was ready to recognize that they existed.
“What do you want to do, Mat?” James asked, his tone unreadable.
Mat swallowed, then laid his head against James’ shoulder. “I think I’d like to go into rehabilitation and recovery. Particularly for head injuries.”
James chuckled and turned his face, nosing right into Mat’s hair. “I shouldn’t have even asked. Could’a answered that myself.”
Mat let himself laugh a bit, even if he still felt wholly unsure if he’d still be welcome after making that choice. “I’d have to go back to school, I assume. I’m…hell, I’m not sure how it would work, but it’s worth looking into. Um. I think.”
When his voice wobbled at the end, James immediately turned, dislodging Mat, but only for a second. He had both hands on either side of his face before Mat could blink, and he forced their gazes to connect. “Mat, you and I bot
h know you were meant for great things. Whether or not those things come at the end of a tattoo needle or your clever fucking hands helping people put themselves back together, never—not for a second—think that your dreams aren’t worth looking into.”
Mat’s eyes burned with unshed tears. It wasn’t often any of the guys really let themselves go emotionally. They didn’t ever buy into hyper-masculinity or any of the men-can’t-cry bullshit, but they were a little more bro-y than not. This moment though, it felt right to just let himself feel it. How much James loved him, how much this was family whether or not he was here.
“It won’t be for a while. It’s mid-semester and I need to make some calls, talk to a few people, see the requirements. But I got my education done—and that accident knocked some of my sense out, but I didn’t lose everything.”
“I know,” James told him fiercely, then finally let him go, though he didn’t back away very far. “You tell us what you need, you hear me? We got your back.”
“I know,” Mat said. He swallowed again, then looked away. “I love you a lot.”
“Christ, boy, get over here and let me hug your neck ‘fore I climb right out of my skin,” James ordered, his fierce southern side making Mat grin so widely his cheeks hurt. “You’re a damn fool for bein’ worried.”
Mat collapsed into his best friend’s arms and sighed. “I know. But you keep me in line.”
“We all do. Now, enough mushy shit for the day?”
“For the month,” Mat confirmed, then laughed when James punched him on the arm. He still hadn’t decided—not completely, but he felt better knowing he still had a home.
Wyatt ran his fingers over the granite counters, feeling barely-there dips and grooves in the surface he was pretty sure weren’t visible to the eye. He liked the faintly rough texture, and the wide expanse of the counters, which had plenty of room to work with. His only real complaint was the position of the cabinets. The bottoms were exactly eye-level—and he’d suffered enough black-eyes from walking into open cabinets over the years that he winced with the memory of them.
Living with Mat would be a lot wonderful, and at the beginning, a little terrible. Ioan had known Wyatt forever, and there had still been such an adjustment that at one point, Wyatt had considered calling off their co-habitation. Years later, Ioan still left cabinets hanging open, shoes in doorways, towels in the middle of the bathroom floor. Wyatt’s worst trip to the ER was to get six stitches in his lip when his feet had tangled in his husband’s trousers and he’d hit the side of the toilet face first.
If Wyatt had left back then, he might have realized then just how bad his relationship truly was. He might have realized that Ioan had been that way for so long simply because he didn’t care enough. He wasn’t a forgetful man, or a clumsy one. He just never loved Wyatt the way he deserved.
With Mat, it was nothing like that. Wyatt would some days crack his face on a cabinet, or trip over a misplaced shoe, but Mat would always try. And in response, when Mat was having bad days—when his short-term memory was fucked or when his words didn’t work right, or when his brain couldn’t process his moods, Wyatt would give him all the patience he possessed.
It was why none of this scared him. It was why holding Mat’s hand with his broken one while his other explored the wide expanse of the bright white counter tops felt like he was taking a peek into a future that was just over the horizon. Something that he’d wanted for so long, and something he had denied letting himself think of as a real possibility.
“Sweetheart,” Mat asked, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.
Wyatt startled a little, then offered a sheepish smile. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” Mat’s voice had only a tinge of worry, and the confidence settled in Wyatt’s bones. Mat knew if there really was a problem, Wyatt would tell him. No hesitation, no withholding.
“Just thinking,” he said, then turned and grabbed Mat by the hips, tugging him close. He wasn’t sure if the agent was watching—if she was anywhere near by, but he knew she was a close friend to several of the people in the shop, so he felt safe holding Mat the way he wanted to. “I like this place a lot.”
Mat brushed his lips along Wyatt’s cheek, and Wyatt could feel the way they’d curved into a smile. “Yeah?”
“Do you?” he asked. He knew that deep down, while he wanted to be comfortable, he’d be content anywhere so long as Mat was with him.
“I think it needs a new coat of paint, and there are a few floorboards I saw that make me nervous because they’ve started to come up at the edges, and I think it’s just enough you might catch a toe on them,” he admitted.
Wyatt couldn’t help his smile from growing wider. “Yeah?”
Mat snorted and smacked him. “Why do damaged floors make you fucking happy, you weirdo?”
Wyatt used his good hand to tip Mat’s chin down, then went to his toes to kiss him. “Because I love you.”
“That makes zero sense,” Mat told him, but there was a grin in his voice. “You want to make an offer?”
“I think so, yes. I’ll be gone a few weeks once we close, which means we can have the floors repaired in time for me to come back, yes?” Wyatt asked.
Mat squeezed him tight, then stepped out of his embrace. “Yep. And Tony knows a few guys, because Tony always knows a few guys for any-fucking-thing. We’ll get it all taken care of before you and the pup get back.”
Wyatt felt a rush of gratitude, not just for what Mat was offering, or for him being a supportive partner, but for life letting him feel brave again, and ready. “Then let’s do this.” He turned, taking Mat’s hand in his, and they went out to meet Holland to make a first offer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’m going to miss you,” Mat said, his voice coming out in a short pant as he spread his legs wider. His head dipped down toward the pillow as Wyatt pushed his fingers in deeper, twisting them, opening Mat wide. He wasn’t going to fuck him yet. He had a plug resting against his other hand, next to the bottle of lube.
He wanted Mat willing, open, and just shy of desperate before he slipped inside and made him forget everything but Wyatt’s name. They didn’t often have sex like this—it wasn’t entirely their style, but three weeks was a long time to be away, even if his name was signed on the dotted line of a new house, and he had finally planted some roots in Fairfield.
“I’ll give you plenty of ways to remember me, remember exactly how I feel while I’m away,” Wyatt vowed, biting Mat’s hip as he brushed his prostate with the tips of both fingers.
“Fuck, fuck,” Mat hissed, thrusting backward.
Wyatt steadied him with a firm hand at the small of his back as his other grappled for the lube. He used his teeth to push back the cap, then drizzled it down between Mat’s cheeks. With a few firm swipes of his fingers, pushing the lube in to his waiting hole, his other hand released Mat’s back and went in search of the plug.
It was freshly cleaned and ready, just like Mat, who dropped his shoulders, spread his legs, and raised his ass further into the air. Wyatt groaned at his position, using his hand to find Mat’s pucker before guiding the toy in. It slid home with an obscene squelch, Mat’s hole offering just a bare hint of resistance after being prepped so thoroughly.
When it was nestled inside, Mat’s body went lax, and Wyatt spread out over his back, nipping his way up to the crook of Mat’s neck. “Okay?”
“Mm,” Mat hummed, wriggling a little under Wyatt’s weight. “Perfect. Are you going to make me come?”
Wyatt chuckled, dragging his blunt nails down Mat’s side. “No.” When Mat made a noise of protest, Wyatt hushed him with a kiss. “Not yet. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Mat whispered.
Wyatt shifted to the side, letting his hand rest on the plug, grabbing the edge and fucking Mat with it a little bit. “J’aimerais être une goutte de sang pour mieux connaître ton cœur.” He pushed the plug in hard enough to graze Mat’s prostate again, and Mat hissed, arching u
p a little. “Aide-moi, je ne peux pas respirer! Te regarder m'a coupé le souffle.”
Mat laughed, which ended on a groan as Wyatt’s hand drifted lower to toy with his balls. “That last one’s new, isn’t it?”
“Peut être,” Wyatt murmured. “Maybe it is. I’ll tell you when I get home.”
Mat rolled toward him, locking his legs around Wyatt’s hips and making himself like an octopus. “Is it as cheesy and ridiculous as the rest of them?”
“Yes,” Wyatt said, like he was making a vow.
“Good.” Mat kissed him until he was worked up again, then pulled away before Wyatt could forget his vow to make him wait. “I’ll go start dinner.”
They were staying at James’ place, now that the guest-house was being rented out. Wyatt had only met Miguel and Finn one time. Though Miguel was renting from James, he was even more of a recluse than Wyatt had been when he first arrived.
He knew that they’d both come from a shop in Florida where they’d been working, but they weren’t as close as the guys at Irons and works were. Wyatt was never the kind of guy to ask what people looked like, but he couldn’t help but overhear Mat and James talking about the new renter. From what he’d inferred, the man had a severe limp and old burn scars on his face and what was left of his right hand, though neither of them knew from what since Miguel hadn’t offered the information.
Wyatt knew what it was like though, to have something obvious showing that you were different. He knew the life of being someone pre-judged and assumed long before anyone took the chance to get to know him, and for that he was glad Miguel had come here. Whether or not he’d stay remained to be seen, but for the time he was here, he’d be safe.