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Two hours later, we’re all sitting comfortably within Matthew’s private jet. From the outside, it’s completely inconspicuous, looking no different than the other small airplanes around it. On the inside, it’s made for comfort. Three rows of large leather seats are arranged in the front. Behind those, on either side of the walkway are long couches that lead to a set of tables. Towards the back of the plane is the restroom, a small study, and a bedroom. I find myself looking longingly at the bedroom and only turn away my attention when I see Matthew smirking knowingly at me. I roll my eyes and push past him to join Tyler in the seats.
Looking over at Tom, I can see he’s grudgingly impressed with his surroundings. I know it isn’t easy for him to allow Matthew to control our actions, but my affection towards him increases at the fact that he’s taking it this well. He glances over at me, giving me a wink and a smile that I return.
When it’s time for takeoff, Matthew and Leo sit in the row in front of us, and they both engage Tyler in a Batman conversation to get his mind off the impending flight. Apparently my son has an unexplained fear of flying. Who knew. Their distraction technique works and before Tyler even realizes we’ve left the ground, we’ve leveled off in the sky and the seatbelt sign has been turned off, allowing us to move around. Matthew shoots Leo a glance, then turns to Tyler and me.
“So Leo has a couple Batman cartoons ready to watch if you’re interested...” he says leadingly.
Tyler looks at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “Can I watch, Mom?” he asks, bouncing in his seat.
I look questioningly at Matthew who’s eyes communicate he wants to talk to us without Tyler’s presence. I catch on immediately. “Of course, buddy,” I say, flattening back his hair and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Have fun.”
Leo grins at Tyler, taking his hand to lead him towards the very back of the jet, to the bedroom. I look back at Matthew who no longer has the fond, fatherly glint in his eyes, but a dull reluctance that shrivels my insides. “What?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t meet my gaze until the bedroom door is shut and Leo is returning to us. “I need everyone to be on board with the security measures I’ll be putting into place once we land,” he says, moving so he can address both Tom and me at the same time. “It’s not ideal, but the measures are there to keep all three of you safe. Otherwise, you will be at risk to anyone who wants to hurt you.” Tom looks between the three of us uneasily, but doesn’t comment. “Firstly, you’re not to use your cell phones until I say differently. And there’s no point searching for them; we confiscated them last night.”
Tom immediately stops searching his pockets for his phone, glaring at Matthew. “You stole our property?” he asks incredulously.
“Yes,” Matthew replies unblinkingly. “You were being tracked by the GPS chips in your phones. I’m having them encoded so you can use them freely again. Next, none of you goes anywhere without a security escort. I don’t care if you want to walk down the street for a fucking Snickers bar; you take someone with you. Leo will introduce you to the security team once we reach the house. Third, once you’ve gotten back your phones, you are not to tell anybody, not even family, where you are, who you’re with, or why you’re with them. Anybody can be involved in this mess and you don’t want to take the chance that someone you know has been bribed into giving away information about you. Last, I need to know that I can trust you.” He speaks to both of us, but looks directly at Tom. “Anything you hear in my presence has the potential to make this entire thing worse if the wrong person overhears it. I need to know that you won’t tell anyone about whatever you see, hear, or do. This is the most important rule and will be the one that gets you sent right back to the fucking farm if it’s broken. Are we clear?”
I agree immediately and Matthew sends me a small smile of gratitude before turning his sights back on Tom. “Well?” he demands.
“Yeah, sure,” Tom mutters, looking like it’s going against everything he is to not argue with Matthew right now.
“Thank you,” Matthew says quietly. “In return I will be as honest with you as I can be without compromising your safety any further. There will be things I will refuse to tell you because I believe they will do more damage than good. If you ask, I will tell you if I can’t answer.”
“What the hell is it that has these bastards after us in the first place?” Tom blurts.
I look at Matthew curiously, wondering how much he’ll admit to the man he once considered a sworn enemy. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” says Matthew, deadpan.
A grin starts to grow on Tom’s face until he realizes no one else is joining in on what he believes to be a joke. I feel a little sorry for him; I’m familiar with what it’s like to initially learn just how serious Matthew’s job can be and it’s startlingly unsettling. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say even Matthew felt slight pity for him. For a man who can spend most of his day joking, teasing, and flirting, Matthew takes his work incredibly seriously and Tom isn’t familiar with that side of him.
“So what makes you think your place is safer than anywhere else?” Tom challenges, trying to recover from both his shock and embarrassment.
Leo and Matthew smirk at one another. “It just is,” Leo says dismissively.
I’m fully aware of the security measures that surround Matthew’s home, the place I called home for three years, incidentally. Deep in the country of Upstate New York, surrounded by forest, the house itself was rather modest when you brought Matthew’s wealth into consideration. Through tall wrought-iron gates that surround the several acres of land, a long, winding gravel driveway leads up the hill to where the house is set. The outside is misleading: From a distance it seems like a simple log cabin, but the closer you get, the clearer it is that there is so much more to it. Two stories high, not including the basement, the place Matthew Young calls home is the epitome of a bachelor pad or a man cave, whichever term you prefer. The furnishings are simple, yet gorgeous. The main floor is more normal than anywhere else—large kitchen, living and dining room large enough to accommodate parties for a hundred people. My first party there was nearly overwhelming, but I had no trouble finding somewhere to steady my nerves and get used to the crowd. Downstairs in the basement was the entertainment area where Matthew spent most of his free time. He had a movie theater installed as well as his very own arcade with every video game imaginable and only the very best in home gym equipment. The second story housed the bedrooms—five of them—and Matthew’s home office.
The best thing about the house was the winter season. Every year, almost like clockwork, we’d get hit with a blizzard that forced us to remain inside for days at a time. Having exhausted the entertainment value of the games and movies, our only outlet for staving off boredom was indulging in one another. The second winter I spent with Matthew, shortly after we were married, we spent two incredible days in bed together. I thought our honeymoon was exhausting, but it had nothing on that blizzard...
Apart from luxurious, Matthew’s home employs state of the art security. He’d be a fool to use anything less, considering his line of work. There are security guards stationed at the gates who make rounds on the property once an hour on ATVs. A complex key code is required to even get on the property. With the help of spotlights and cameras, nothing sets a toe on that property without alerting a highly trained team. All of whom carry guns. Despite knowing nothing could ever touch me while I was safely within the grounds, the thought of being a prisoner in my home was stifling and in the weeks before I left, it really started bothering me. Now, though, going back makes me smile, gives me a sense of security and happiness I haven’t felt in years.
“What are you thinking about?”
I snap out of my thoughts and look to find Matthew is sitting right next to me, his head cocked to the side. Tom and Leo are nowhere in sight. “Nothing,” I say too quickly. He smirks; I sigh, knowing he knows I’m lying through my teeth. “Okay,
I was thinking about how much I miss your home.”
His smirk fades, his eyes growing sad. “Not much of a home anymore,” he says softly. “Hasn’t been in about five years.”
I immediately avert my eyes as my mind registers what he’s saying—or not saying. There’s so much I want to ask him. What’s he been doing since I left, aside from pissing off foreign defense contractors? Has he gotten a girlfriend? Has he seen anyone? Of course, that’s none of my business considering I’m the one who left him, but it doesn’t change my curiosity, or the feelings of jealousy when I think about him in our bed with another woman.
So now you know what it feels like for him when he thinks about you and Tom...
Just goes to show his personal life really isn’t any of my business anymore.
“How’s your family?” Matthew asks suddenly. I know he’s trying to cut through the awkwardness between us.
His question only saddens me, though. “Daddy died,” I tell him quietly, looking intently at the seat in front of me.
Though I’m not looking at him I hear his sharp intake of breath, and I know he’s looking at me with sympathy. “Oh, Sam,” he whispers, reaching over for my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know...”
I only shrug.
“What happened?”
I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the comforting way his thumb is rubbing the back of my hand. “Heart attack,” I say a little breathily. “His health started deteriorating shortly after Tyler and I got back and he went in his sleep about a year and a half ago. The doctors say it was painless, so I guess that’s a plus.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely. He knows how much my father meant to me, how much it killed me to leave him to run off with Matthew. “He knew Tyler, then?”
Opening my eyes, I smile sadly. “Yes,” I confirm. “Ty had Daddy wrapped around his little finger. It didn’t matter how sick he was when we visited, he always got on the floor to play whatever game Tyler came up with.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, smiling.
“What about you?” I ask, squeezing his hand a little. “How are the rest of the Youngs?”
He raises an amused eyebrow at me. “You think I don’t know full well you speak to my little sister every week?” he says teasingly.
“Not every week,” I say mock-defensively. “Sometimes our schedules force us to skip conversations.”
Snorting a laugh, he rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he murmurs. “And speaking of Claire... I had three missed calls from her this morning and three very indignant voicemails asking about you.”
I wince. “Yeah, I forgot to mention I spoke to her last night before everything happened,” I say.
“So she knows I’m in town,” he states. “Or was in town, considering we’re probably somewhere over Illinois by now. Did you tell her why I was there?”
“No. But I think she came to the conclusion that something’s up all on her own.”
“Of course she did,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll call her when we’re home, try and set her mind at ease...”
My stomach does a back flip at his phrasing. It makes me feel as though I still belong there, that I never walked away in the first place.
Neither of us speaks for the next few hours, content to merely sit together holding hands. We don’t see Leo, Tom, or Tyler until the seatbelt light comes on. Matthew is asleep beside me, his head resting on my shoulder, and I’m daydreaming until I see movement out of the corner of my eyes. I flush deeply to find Tom standing in the aisle, his jaw tense and his gaze dark as he glares at my hand entwined with Matthew’s. Pulling away from his grip is more difficult when he only grunts in his sleep and holds me tighter. Tom doesn’t say a word, but I know he’s ready to explode, so I yank my hand free, causing Matthew to wake and look at me in sleepy confusion. My eyes dart over his shoulder and he follows them, landing on Tom.
Matthew stands as though he hasn’t a care in the world, grinning at the other man. “Enjoy the flight?” he asks cheerily, slipping past Tom to retake his seat beside Leo, who is watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed amusement.
I expect Tom to sit next to me again, to stake some sort of claim; instead I watch as he shakes his head and sits in the row behind me, grumbling in annoyance to himself as he buckles himself into the seat. I dread the first moment he and I have alone together.
As we descend, all my thoughts about both Tom and Matthew fade away temporarily. For the first time in five years, I’m completely content in the knowledge that I’m finally going home.
5
The first time I drove up this driveway, I was nineteen years old and had never even left my home state. I was nervous and terrified and excited and a hundred different emotions that I could barely come to terms with, let alone identify. At that point, I’d only known Matthew for three months and in that time, we’d gotten to know one another quite well. Though he’d left Iowa after his business had concluded, we kept in touch via telephone and internet. We spoke every night, sometimes for hours on end, and on the days when our schedules couldn’t align to accommodate some sort of communication, I was left feeling slightly depressed.
So when he made an offer to fly me out to his house in New York, I immediately accepted. It was strange how connected you could become to a person with such distance between you and them, not to mention the very long list of differences between your lives—I was a farm girl; he was living the good life. Every single person at home thought I was insane to accept his invitation, Tom especially. My father tried to argue me out of my decision, but in the end, he conceded that it was my life and that he’d noticed one hell of a change in my outlook since meeting Matthew at the diner.
Initially, I shot down all his advances to get to know me, thinking he’d give up after the first time he asked me out and I outright rejected him. Oh, how wrong I had been. Two days after our first meeting, I exited the kitchen at Chet’s carrying a large tray of food and nearly dropped it when I saw him sitting at the bar watching my every move with a large grin on his face. As much as I tried to ignore him, I caught myself looking at him far too often and I knew he was very well aware of it every time. He remained at the diner until the end of my shift—four hours later—drinking coffee, eating pie, chatting up the locals. I tried to exit without him noticing, while he was deep in conversation with Mrs. Saunders, and I thought I’d managed it, making it to my truck before I could hear a pair of feet rushing towards me.
I’d sighed in resignation and turned towards Matthew, strangely relieved that he’d caught up to me before I actually made my getaway. This time he was very insistent about taking me out for a cup of coffee and before I could stop myself, I was agreeing. That one cup of coffee kept me out until 1AM, something I’d never done before, and it probably could have easily lasted much longer. Matthew remained in town, or at least nearby, for another week. He came to my house, met my father, brother, and little sister, all of whom did their best to intimidate my new friend. By the end of dinner, my entire family was in love with him, which made me fall a little bit in love with him as well. The only person who didn’t seem to like Matthew was, predictably, Tom. Tom hated every little thing about Matthew and Matthew found this incredibly amusing.
The moral of the story was that Matthew Young once again got exactly what he wanted: me. During the two weeks I spent with him, I fell for him completely. Being with him, in every sense of the word, was incredible, and going home had been the worst thing I ever had to do. Within a month, I was back in New York with him and I never looked back. I felt alive with him in a way I hadn’t felt since my mother died and I hated the thought of walking away from that. I knew it was the same for Matthew, which made me feel less guilty for immersing myself in his life.
Eight years later, I’m returning to that life, however temporarily it might be. I’m in the backseat of the car sitting beside my son with Tom on the other side, and all I can look at right now is Matthew sitting in the f
ront passenger seat, his fingers tapping against the arm rest in what I know to be a nervous habit. No one has said a word since we stepped off the plane, but the tension between Matthew and Tom, and Tom and me, is palpable. I’ve been able to ignore it for the most part by submersing myself in daydreams that I will undoubtedly feel guilty about having later on.
Excitement builds as we pass through the gates onto Matthew’s property. Even Tom has stopped sulking to look around. Trees are everywhere lining the driveway that takes us uphill and when the house comes into view, Tom lets out a low whistle of appreciation that I’m certain he didn’t intend to actually let us hear.
Leo stops the car just in front of the ground level garage and we pile out. Without even asking, Tyler starts running through the yard as though he belongs here—which, I remind myself with a pang, he does. I glance over and see Matthew watching him with a small smile that is at once joyful and incredibly sad, and leaves me feeling incredibly guilty for keeping these two apart. I always knew Matthew would be an incredible father and he should have been given the opportunity to actually explore that facet of his life. And I have no idea how to go about making it up to them. Even Tom seems to feel a little bad as he looks between Tyler and his father.
“Shall we?”
I jump when I hear Matthew’s voice practically in my ear and look up to find him smirking at me. “Must you creep up on people like that?” I ask, feigning annoyance.
His smirk widens. “Must you be so jumpy?” he shoots back.
Tom walks around the car and glares at us which, as always, only increases Matthew’s enjoyment. He walks away to call Tyler back so we can head inside, leaving Tom and me alone for a moment.
Young Lies (Young Series) Page 7
