Young Lies (Young Series)

by Kimble, W. R.

  Personally, I think this last statement was a bit much, but Tom flinches ever so slightly and seems uncertain. “I’ll see you out,” I say quietly, refusing to look at Tom right now. I’m pissed at him for his treatment of Matthew, not to mention how he completely disregarded very real threats against me and Tyler. And peripherally to himself. I pretend not to see the little triumphant smirk on Matthew’s face directed at Tom as we head to the front door. “I’m so sorry for his behavior, Matt. He doesn’t understand.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Matthew says dryly. “Computers? Really?”

  I shrug, smiling a little at his tone. “Well, you always said it was better that people know as little as possible about what you actually do,” I say defensively.

  He smiles softly at me. “I did say that...” We step out onto the front porch and my eyes dart towards the SUV that is parked in Tom’s spot. No wonder he was so pissed when he got home... “Look, I am beyond sorry that you and Ty have been dragged into this, Sam. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, despite Farm Boy’s wishes.” I glare at his nickname for Tom, and he snickers for a second before his expression grows serious again. “I mean it. Nothing is going to touch you. I promised you before you left I would always keep you safe and take care of you. I have no intention if breaking that promise.”

  I nod slightly, unable to do anything else. “I know,” I whisper, looking up at his sincere face. “Thank you.”

  His lips twitch in what I think might be an attempt at a smile that doesn’t quite appear. “It’s good to see you, Sammy,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he speaks my name.

  “You too, Matty,” I say, biting my lip against a grin. He scowls in a mostly playful way and I’m reminded immediately of how much he hates that nickname. “Take care.”

  “Yeah, you too,” Matthew murmurs, his eyes darting down to my lips. I hold my breath as he bends his neck and try to swallow my disappointment when he only kisses my cheek. “Keep your eyes open,” he whispers into my ear. I feel a slight pressure on my hand. “If you have any trouble, please call me. Okay?”

  I nod again. “I will,” I respond, looking down at my hand at the business card he gave me. On the back is a hastily scrawled phone number.

  “I had to change all the old ones,” he informs me apologetically. “I know you’ve been kept up to speed as far as my contact information goes, but this is very recent.”

  “Okay,” is all I can think to say.

  One hand running through his hair again, Matthew glances over his shoulder at the SUV where we both know Leo to be waiting very patiently. “I should go. I’ll let you know if there is any change.”

  Again wrapping my arms around myself, I watch as Matthew walks away from me, however reluctantly it might be for him. Before he pulls himself into the passenger seat of the car, he glances back and I don’t know whether I’m just seeing what I want to see, but I swear his eyes are radiating longing for me. My vision grows blurry as the SUV backs out of the driveway and leaves the neighborhood. I never thought I’d again experience watching distance, physically and metaphorically, growing between us and this wound is just as raw as it had been last time.

  3

  Over the last couple days, ever since Matthew came to speak with us, I’ve been extremely on my guard. I thought after the way Tom had treated him, Matthew might have called off the people tailing me all around town, but he didn’t. If anything, they’ve made themselves more obvious, not bothering to hide themselves, and I can’t help but think they’re doing this because they want to let anyone after me with intent to harm to know they’re present. This probably shouldn’t make me feel better, but somehow, it does.

  I haven’t seen or heard a thing from Matthew himself, not that I really expected to, and I’ve been fighting to hide my disappointment. After five years of trying to get over Matthew Young, to move on to a more normal life, I feel like I’d finally begun to pull it off, and then he shows up out of nowhere. Unlike Tom, I took every bit of what we were told seriously. I wanted to pack Tyler up that night and go wherever we might be safest, but after the worst fight Tom and I have ever had, I was too exhausted to do anything but go to sleep. Tom is still barely speaking to me. He’s angry that Matthew has made a reappearance. He’s angry that I’m “buying into” everything Matthew says. He’s angry that we’ve apparently got people out there who are trying to hurt us because of Matthew. He’s angry that every time we try to talk about it, I faithfully defend Matthew.

  I think that last one is the real problem, but I have no intention of backing down. Despite everything, I trust Matthew Young with my life and the life of our son, and that will never change. I may not have been completely honest with Tom when I showed up on his doorstep five years ago during the middle of a torrential downpour carrying my one-year-old son beneath my jacket and a single backpack that contained nothing but diapers, bottles, and other young child necessities. Over the years, I know Tom has formed his own beliefs of what happened between Matthew and me, and all those beliefs center around blaming Matthew for everything.

  Of course, in reality, it was all my doing. I was the one who left. I was the one who ended our marriage and removed our son from Matthew’s care. It’s a decision I’ve regretted every day since, only because I knew I was leaving behind the only man I’ll ever be in love with. Deep down, I think Tom knows this. It’s why our relationship is at such a stand still. He wants something I could never give him and he’s just desperately hoping I change my mind. If Matthew hadn’t shown up on our doorstep, I think somewhere very soon down the line, I would have been worn down, if for no other reason than to give Tyler some stability. He already considers Tom his dad and loves him like he is, and really, all that matters to me is my son’s happiness. Tom makes him happy, therefore, I’m happy. And it doesn’t matter if Tom and I both know it’s a lie. It’s a lie we’re willing to live with.

  As I said before, since Matthew left, I’ve been on guard everywhere I go. The slightest thing makes me jump: a backfiring car, someone yelling, a slamming of the door, the floorboards of my house creaking in the middle of the night, even though I’m well aware they always do that. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, searching for anyone suspicious.

  Three nights after Matthew’s sudden visit, I’ve tucked Tyler into bed. Tom is working late, and I need some me-time. I spend time in the bathtub, intending to read, though I knew my mind wouldn’t focus. I keep thinking about Matthew and whatever this threat is. Is he safe? What happens if they turn their sights on him? I don’t think I could survive him being hurt again. The last time early killed me and it turned out to be the last straw of what I could handle.

  On the other end of the spectrum, I keep thinking about Matthew. What we had together and how incredible it had been. He showed me things, taught me things I never would have imagined existing. He taught me things about myself, made me realize my full potential in life, encouraged me to go after what I wanted. It was because of him that I decided to start college. Of course, that was before I got pregnant, but even then, I had his full support in everything. He took me away from something I desperately wanted to escape; I just didn’t know how to go about doing it.

  The most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do was leave him. After his release from the hospital following the attack, he gave me a choice—stay or go. He’d dedicated himself to keeping me and his son safe, and he’d very nearly failed us and I know that guilt still eats away at him. Once I made my decision, he made all the arrangements to get me back home. The divorce was much smoother than I thought it should be, but I think Matthew somehow managed to make it easy as possible, quickly dividing assets between us. The last thing I ever wanted was his money; I’ve never been that girl. Even knowing that, every couple weeks, Matthew deposits almost obscene amounts of money in a bank account he setup. His reasoning has been that it’s for Tyler: his care, his education, his happiness. I understand that, but the amount of money in that account pretty much guaran
tees our son will be the richest boy in middle school. Tom is aware of the account, though he’s never asked for details. Not that I would give him any; that’s something between Matthew and his son.

  Wouldn’t it be helpful if Tyler knew Matthew existed outside of pictures?

  It’s true I’ve downplayed Matthew’s role in my son’s life. I made this decision for many reasons; the most important one being it’s dangerous for Ty to know too much while being required to keep it quiet. I always resolved to tell him everything when he gets older, but right now the best description I can come up with that won’t terrify Tyler is that his father resembles Q from the James Bond movies; he develops all sorts of gadgets that a lot of people use and want. That’s a very simplified description and I know personally Matthew’s job involves a hell of a lot more than that and more often than not, he’s targeted for some of the technology he develops as well as his determination and success in gaining contracts that are very much sought after. I know him well enough to know that he enjoys that aspect of the job; the more danger the better. At one point he considered getting out of his line of work, particularly after Tyler’s birth. Clearly, with us gone, he decided against it.

  I have a brief thought that it’s better this way; he loves his work and every little detail that goes into it. I know he’d be miserable if he gave it up to work a nine to five job where he was forced to wear a suit and tie every day.

  At least someone is living their dream.

  With a heavy sigh, I switch off the television and resign myself to hours of tossing and turning in bed before my alarm goes off at 5AM. On the way to my and Tom’s bedroom, I stop to check up on Tyler who is spread out on his bed, his arms and legs contorted in a way that if I attempted to sleep like that, I’d be sore for a week.

  Of all the things Matthew and I did in our three years together, this beautiful little boy is undoubtedly the best. He was a surprise to say the least, and while I was nervous about telling my husband of less than six months about my pregnancy when we hadn’t really discussed children, Matthew had been over the moon about the news. He was made for fatherhood and for the first year of Tyler’s life, Matthew doted endlessly on his son. He lived and breathed for that little boy. And I know it kills him to not be involved with Tyler, but it had been Matthew to suggest that things be this way. The dangers Matthew is surrounded with on a day-to-day basis is innumerable and constant, and the more separation he put between Tyler and me is better all around.

  Until now apparently. Everything is catching up to me again and I’d be a fool to not be afraid. Knowing Matthew has assigned his security team to keep an eye out is more than a small comfort, but experience says no matter how well trained they may be, they’re not perfect and they do sometimes let things slip through the cracks.

  Faintly, I hear my cell phone ring downstairs. Placing a kiss on Tyler’s head, I quietly make my way out and down the stairs, expecting Tom to be the caller to tell me he’s working later than anticipated. When I reach my phone, I feel a smile growing on my face. It’s not Tom or even Matthew to check in on us. It’s the person I’ve needed to talk to most after the last few days.

  “Hi, Claire,” I say happily, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I move around the kitchen for something to drink.

  “Hey, stranger,” returns a slightly husky yet bubbly voice. “Sorry I didn’t call you back last week. Been a little hectic around here.”

  I sigh. “No worries,” I say. “I know the feeling.”

  “Uh oh. What happened?”

  Sitting in a chair at the table, I try to think of what to tell her. Claire is very familiar with Matthew. More familiar than I am, being his younger sister. She’s my age, tall, average-built with her brother’s dark hair and eyes—apart from the age difference, they could be twins. Claire is also the only member of Matthew’s family, aside from their mother, who liked and approved of me rather than merely tolerating my existence because of Matthew. Over the years, she’s supported every decision I’ve made, even not knowing exactly why I left her brother, while the rest of the family remains slightly bitter. She’s also been my go-between with Matthew, passing on photos and information about Tyler. I don’t think I would have survived the last five years without a friend like her and she’ll never know how much I appreciate her.

  “Matt is in town,” I say quietly.

  I hear a sigh on the other end of the phone. “Am I to assume he’s made contact?” My silence is enough of an answer. She curses softly and I hear the click of a lighter, then an inhalation as she puffs on a cigarette. “Are you all right?”

  This is what I love about Claire. She skips the bullshit questions—the how’s and why’s of Matthew’s reappearance—and jumps right into what I’m really dealing with. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “It’s wonderful seeing him, but at the same time, he’s drudged up all the shit I’ve been trying to bury.”

  “Bet Tom loved that,” she says grimly.

  I laugh. “You know it,” I respond wryly. “I’m just relieved they didn’t kill one another with all the animosity between them.”

  “Well, considering what I know about the agreement you and Matty made, I’m not going to ask for details,” Claire tells me briskly. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t know he was planning on going to Omaha; we haven’t heard from in over a month. He’s been overseas working on some project or another. All I really know is whatever trouble he’s brought home, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you out of it.”

  Bit late for that... I quickly change the subject, asking about Danny and the kids. Apparently my ex-brother-in-law has broken his leg after trying to do some sort of home improvement project that involved a ladder. The kids are growing like weeds and grating on their mother’s last nerve, and are practically begging her to convince me and Tyler to come for a visit. That’s an offer that has merits, especially in light of recent events. I can’t think of a better vacation than Claire’s house in upstate New York hidden by trees in the middle of nowhere. After promising to look into vacation time at work and planning a visit as soon as I can manage, Claire tells me to keep her posted on everything going on and to give Tom and Ty her love before we hang up.

  That conversation seems to be what I needed to settle my mind enough for sleep. I shut off all the lights again, check the doors are locked, and retreat to my bedroom. Before I crawl into bed, I have the urge to glance out the window, a bad feeling settling in my belly. I hate that I know what I’m going to find before I even part the curtains, and that doesn’t make the reality any easier. Out on the street, parked directly across from my home and in full view of my neighbors is a sleek, black sports car I’ve never seen before. Briefly I consider that it might be one of Matthew’s guys keeping an eye out on us. That’s until I see the man leaning against the car, arms and legs crossed as he locks his eyes on my house. There’s a very simple way to decipher whether this person is friend or foe and knowing I’ll never get to sleep until I know which it is, I grab my cell off the bedside table and the business card I tucked into the drawer, quickly dialing Matthew’s phone number while keeping the man outside in my view.

  He answers on the third ring. “Sam?” he says in surprise.

  “Hi,” I say quietly.

  “Hi,” he responds. “What’s the matter?”

  Of course he can hear the nerves in my voice and like Claire, doesn’t bother with chitchat. “I don’t want to panic you,” I say, uncertain whether the statement is directed more at him or me, “but have you sent somebody to stand outside our house?”

  Dead silence on the other end of the phone confirms my fears. “No,” he says evenly. “Why?”

  “Because there is somebody standing outside our house, leaning against a car,” I tell him.

  “Can you see what he looks like?”

  I don’t ask why he assumes it’s a man; it’s irrelevant. “Not really,” I say apologetically. “He’s in all black. I think he might be bald, but I can’t r
eally be sure.”

  Matthew curses and I hear him lower the phone and place his hand over the mouthpiece as he barks instructions at someone, probably Leo. “Samantha, I need you to listen very carefully,” he says calmly. “That is not one of my guys. I have a suspicion of who it is and I promise you, you’re going to be okay.” Someone speaks to him. “I don’t care!” He sounds pissed. “I want eyes over there, Leo! Five fucking minutes ago!”

  I can almost see people scrambling around Matthew to follow his orders and it momentarily calms me knowing I’m not completely alone right now. Glancing outside, I confirm the man is still there, only he’s not leaning against the car anymore; he’s standing in the middle of the street, staring directly at my bedroom window. The logical side of my brain tells me there’s no way anyone can see me through very slightly cracked curtains, especially when the bedroom behind me is pitch black. The illogical side, however, the one that has been panicking for what feels like hours, screams that the person outside knows exactly where I am and to whom I am speaking on the phone.

  “Samantha,” Matthew says, his voice much calmer now. I know he’s doing this for my benefit and I appreciate it. “The police are on their way. They’re going to drive past your house, but they’re not going to stop right now. We need this to seem like a casual patrol.”

  “How is it a casual anything, Matt?” I demand. “There’s a man standing outside my window!”

  “I know,” he replies in a soothing tone. From anyone else, this would only serve to piss me off even more, but the way Matthew uses it makes it seem less patronizing. “I know, baby. And he’s there for surveillance. Nothing more. Once he sees the police presence, he’ll bail. Who’s at home with you right now?”

  I take a deep breath and try to get my brain to function. “Just me and Tyler. Tom is working late.”