by E M Lindsey
“Of course, my apologies,” she stammered out.
Wyatt held his position, keeping his attention away from his brother until he heard Declan wander off. Letting out a breath, he turned his head toward Mat. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Mat said, though he sounded anything but.
“Even if you could read it, I would want my own copy,” Wyatt told him.
At that, Mat let out a small chuckle and reached out to touch Wyatt’s hip. “Yeah, I know that, babe. I’m not upset that I can’t help—I just…I hate telling people. Your brother seems like the kind of guy who wants to offer a lot of unsolicited advice and I just don’t think I can take anymore.”
“He is, and he will,” Wyatt warned him. He left off the bit where Declan wasn’t alone in that. The moment the secret was out, all of his brothers would be using their Google MDs to find solutions they’d convince themselves Mat hadn’t tried yet. And his mother would fuss, and his father would go too far in trying to pretend like Mat was ‘normal’. It would be a shit-show, and Wyatt could only hope against hope Mat could withstand it.
“You’ve got your worried face on,” Mat murmured, and he took a step closer. “I promise I’m good. It’s going to be fine.”
Wyatt nodded, though he didn’t feel entirely comforted. Mat’s family had been the opposite as soon as he was injured. They had abandoned him rather than smothered him. And although the guys back in Fairfield did their fair share of mother-henning, they were nothing like Wyatt’s siblings.
He was tired of warning Mat, though. It was starting to feel like he was trying to chase him off, and the last thing Wyatt wanted was for Mat to leave. He finished making the appointment, then took Mat’s hand as they moved toward the exit. “Do you see my brother anywhere?”
“Uh,” Mat said, squeezing Wyatt’s fingers. “Oh. He’s across the street and it looks like he’s on the phone. Should we join him?”
“I don’t want to, but yes,” Wyatt admitted. “I’ll get him to swing by the supermarket and we can stock up our little rental so we have even fewer excuses to be at my parents’.”
Mat chuckled softly as they made their way to the crossing to wait for the light to change. “Look, babe, my family is the epitome of awkward at get togethers, okay? I promise, none of this freaks me out.”
Wyatt nodded, but he said nothing as he followed the path across the street. His cane alerted him to the curb before Mat’s finger-squeeze did, and he followed Mat’s directions to his brother’s car. Not much had changed, of course. Declan still drove some penis-envy sized pick-up that Wyatt had to heave himself into, and it still smelled of stale coffee and old McDonalds. It brought him back to his teenage years—of Declan sneaking him out during school holidays when his mother refused to let him venture out on his own.
He did love his brother. Declan had given him his first taste of alcohol—which had led to his first hang-over. He’d introduced him to his first boyfriend, who had given Wyatt his first blow-job. He’d been the first person to stand up to their mother when she was going too far with being over-protective, and he was the last one to back down when his parents gave push-back.
But he was just like them in far too many ways. He’d wanted Wyatt to be his version of normal. He introduced him to men while encouraging him to try a woman just once—because he might change his mind. He told him to give it more time when he and Ioan had finally made the divorce official.
Declan had been the first one to cross the border into the US, tracking Wyatt’s credit cards until Wyatt threatened never to return home again if anyone came looking for him. He loved him, but sometimes the love of his family was too much.
“So, where to?” Declan asked.
Wyatt was tucked in the front seat between his brother and his boyfriend, and he laid his hand on Mat’s leg, his head resting back against the seat. “The supermarket. Mat and I need to shop before we get to the house.”
“Maman said she’ll be cooking all week,” Declan reminded him.
Wyatt groaned. “I’m well aware, but the last place Mat and I plan to be is over there for every meal. It’s bad enough the only rental was down the street. I don’t want any of you bursting in on us.”
“Afraid of what we might walk into?” Declan said, and Wyatt could hear his grin. “Your boyfriend looks so lost right now. Does he not speak French?”
Wyatt was startled. He hadn’t realized how easily he was slipping into his mother tongue, especially with his brother. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning into Mat slightly. He could feel how tense the other man was, and he rubbed Mat’s thigh soothingly. “I promise I wasn’t saying anything bad.”
“No, it’s,” Mat said, swallowing so thickly, Wyatt could hear it catch in his throat. “It’s fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Declan pointed out. “You look a little pale.”
Wyatt immediately sat up straighter, worried. “Mat…”
“It is fine. It’s j-just my brain b-being an idiot,” he said, and groaned at the stammer. Wyatt heard him take a slow breath, and knew then he was measuring his words. “When I first woke up from the coma, for a while I thought people were speaking another language. Like, I could think just fine, but I couldn’t understand. Then I tried to talk, and it came out a garbled mess. With everyone around me speaking a foreign language, it just…it’s triggers that old memory.”
“Coma?” Delcan said at the same time as Wyatt said, “We can stop, of course.”
Mat shifted and his sigh was muffled by his palm. “You really don’t need to accommodate me. We’re in a French-speaking part of Canada. I get it. It’s just going to take time to adjust.”
“Why were you in a coma?” Declan demanded.
Wyatt turned his face toward his brother, hoping his expression was as murderous as it felt. “Don’t. That’s not your business.”
“No, it’s,” Mat said, reaching for Wyatt’s hand and holding it tightly. “They probably should know. If my stammer flares up or my aphasia gets bad…” He paused, tracing his thumb over Wyatt’s fingers absently. “I was hit by a driver who was texting about six years ago, and my skull was crushed pretty badly.”
“Crisse,” Declan breathed out, and Wyatt felt a little better since he knew Mat understood that word. “But you’re okay?”
“I’m…I could be worse,” Mat conceded. “Sometimes I stammer, and I get overwhelmed pretty easily. Like I did just now. Uh…I get aphasia so, like, sometimes the words I say aloud don’t match what I mean to say.” Wyatt heard him take in a breath, and knew what was coming next. He considered stopping him, reminding him that Mat didn’t owe his family anything, but it wasn’t his call to make. “I can’t read or write either. I went through a lot of therapy, but that part never came back.”
Wyatt heard the steering wheel creak with how hard Mat was holding it. “Is that why you don’t drive?”
Wyatt felt Mat’s shoulder rise and fall with a shrug. “Pretty much. I can drive, but I can’t read signs. So, it’s probably better that I don’t. Wyatt’s been teaching me braille though, which is great. I used it at the ATM the other day.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows went up. “You didn’t tell me that.”
Mat laughed. “I mean, it’s hardly like a celebratory accomplishment, is it?”
“I think you deserved a reward,” Wyatt muttered softly.
“So,” Declan cut in, “what do you two do at home if neither of you can get around on your own?”
Wyatt felt Mat stiffen again. “We get around,” he immediately defended. “Wyatt has never needed my help, and I’ve been there six years. Trust me, I have a system.”
It was a small lie. Wyatt had asked for Mat’s help from time to time, and he had asked for help from others too. He’d been doing it all his life, and he hated that his brothers had such a way of making him feel weak. Of making him feel less than just because he couldn’t do it all on his own. That was the difference, being in Fairfield, with the others and Mat. They never tr
eated accommodations as proof he wasn’t as capable as anyone else. He never had to go above and beyond—he never had to be an inspiration and defy the odds. He could just be himself.
“When I need help, they don’t make me feel like shit for asking,” Wyatt bit out.
Declan sucked in a breath. “You know I don’t mean…”
“You always mean well,” Wyatt said. “But sometimes you’re shitty.”
An awkward silence fell over the car, and no one said a word until they got to the parking lot. Wyatt could feel Declan humming with tension, desperate to offer his services, but he wasn’t going to let him. Instead, he took Mat’s hand, and he left his brother behind.
They didn’t talk about it. Not right away. Not through the shop, and not after they got into the new rental. Wyatt took half an hour to orient himself with the space, Mat providing some commentary when it was needed. But mostly, he just sat on the ugly, floral sofa and laid a cool wash cloth against the back of his neck to stave off a stress headache.
Declan had been nice, of course. He’d showed up to the hotel to take Wyatt and him to the appointment, and he’d made small talk in the lobby. Mat wouldn’t have known that Wyatt’s brothers had all wanted him to “give up the gay thing” if Wyatt hadn’t told him ahead of time. As it was, Mat was starting to doubt that Wyatt was right—or at least, he thought maybe Wyatt was reading too much into what his brothers said and did.
Except the car happened. Mat had seen that expression a thousand times—had heard that tone more than he ever cared to. The moment Declan knew that Mat was less than capable, he began to panic. It was very obvious at that point Declan thought his brother really couldn’t get around on his own. They thought Wyatt’s escape to the States alone was nothing more than a parlor trick—that he’d be back asking for their help before long.
And in the meantime, they hoped he’d found someone who could help take care of him. Not love him, not support him, not enjoy life with him. Take care of him.
Mat didn’t want to be that for anyone, and the whole reason he was falling so hard for Wyatt was because Wyatt didn’t want that. He wanted a partner. Wyatt was a partner.
“Do you want something to eat?” Wyatt asked as he made his way back to the living room. He still had his cane, not quite used to the layout, and he found the coffee table with it before he took a seat.
“Uh. Nah. My head’s pounding right now,” Mat admitted.
Wyatt made a small, pained noise and he set his cane aside, patting his lap with one hand. “Viens,” he commanded.
Mat knew that one, and he smiled as he shifted his feet to the arm of the sofa and twisted to lay his head on Wyatt’s lap. When he was settled, Wyatt’s clever fingers began to knead at the back of Mat’s neck, easing the tension away with firm pushes and long pulls. “God, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Wyatt let out a laugh that sounded far too bitter for Mat’s liking. “Even with a shit family?”
“You’re not them,” Mat said. Part of him wanted to defend them just for the sake of it. To tell Wyatt that they did it out of love, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He, better than anyone, knew that love could be toxic. That there had to be more than just the emotion and feeling to really matter. “He didn’t upset me.”
“Well, he upset me,” Wyatt said. “I’m going to be fifty before long. I have lived my life, have taken care of myself since leaving for University, but they persist in treating me like I can’t do anything on my own. They really did expect me to come home.”
Mat sighed, rolling onto his side a little, and he pushed his face into Wyatt’s stomach as his long fingers brushed through his hair. “Well, fuck them. If you can’t change their minds, you can’t change their minds. It doesn’t mean you have to give them what they want.”
Wyatt laughed softly. “Mon cœur. I know.”
“Mon cœur. What does that mean?” Mat murmured, starting to feel sleepy.
“My heart,” Wyatt told him in a soft voice.
Mat reached up to curl his arm around Wyatt’s waist, burrowing in closer. “You said that before. The…the phrase that you promised to translate so long as I don’t leave you. You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”
Wyatt breathed out softly, dragging his fingers around the profile of Mat’s face. “I trust you,” he said. He didn’t confirm or deny the phrase, nor did he translate, but Mat knew he’d give it up when he was ready. He knew by this point, Wyatt was expressing himself in a way that made him feel less vulnerable, and Mat couldn’t begrudge him that. He knew his ex-husband had done a number on him. It was only fair to give him time.
Chapter Sixteen
The first invasion came over breakfast. Mat found himself grateful that the brothers had at least held off until he’d had his first orgasm of the day—though he was determined to make sure it wasn’t his only—but he couldn’t deny it was a little annoying to have his breakfast destroyed by three men surprisingly larger than Wyatt.
They were older, which Mat knew already, but he could see it in the lines on their faces and the greying hair. Though, he thought to himself as he watched them all pile onto Wyatt like they were teenagers again, he was pleased to see the Adley family aged like a fine wine. They were all handsome, all with a very distinct resemblance, which Mat was curious to know if it came more from their mom or dad.
He could also see that, in spite of how annoyed Wyatt pretended to be, there was a part of him that clearly missed being close with his siblings. When the ruckus was over, Wyatt straightened his shirt and pushed his hair out of his eyes, moving to Mat’s side with his mouth set in a firm line.
“Idiots,” he said, and Mat couldn’t help but smile since the moment they arrived, Wyatt’s accent had gotten stronger. “How did you get in?”
It was true—Mat had been sure to lock the door before going to bed, and neither he nor Wyatt had gone near it that morning.
“Jimmied the lock,” said the one Mat was pretty sure was Darin. Declan was suspiciously absent, and Mat had a bad feeling it had everything to do with the way they’d parted after Wyatt had lost his temper. Darin was a decent replacement though. He couldn’t have been much older—or younger. He was broad and had calves like a runner. His eyes were the same color as all his brothers, though none of the others had dancing eyes the way Wyatt did.
“Fantastic,” Wyatt muttered. His hand brushed across the table, looking for his coffee. Mat didn’t miss the way all three of them twitched, like they wanted to reach out and help. He also didn’t miss the way they refrained from giving in. Once Wyatt had a long drink, he set the mug down and sighed. “I suppose you want introductions?”
“Dec said he doesn’t speak French,” said the shortest of the three. He also looked like he was the oldest, his hair almost all iron grey.
“Any French I do speak, I probably shouldn’t be repeating to any of you,” Mat said mildly.
After a beat, they all laughed, and the oldest clapped him on the shoulder. “Okay, I like you.”
“Don’t take that as a compliment,” Wyatt warned him. “That’s Lewis—oldest, named after my father. Then Darin, and the one who hasn’t spoken is Caron. You can all them all idiot. Makes it easier.”
“Darin and Caron. Were you viciously mocked for rhyming?” Mat wondered.
They laughed again, and Caron punched his brother in the shoulder who made some comment in French, which was likely an insult. “We’ve been sent by maman to bring you for breakfast,” Lewis cut in—obviously the voice of some reason.
Wyatt let out a sigh. “No.”
“She just wants…”
“No,” Wyatt said again, his tone firmer. “Maybe tonight for dinner, but we have plans today.”
And that was the first Mat was hearing about it, but he certainly didn’t mind playing along. He nodded sagely but didn’t offer up any words since he had a feeling they wouldn’t help.
There was a stare-off after that, which was strange t
o see between three sighted brothers and their blind one, but in the end, Wyatt won. Caron clapped them both on the shoulder and tugged backward. “Come on, we’re beat. Besides, I wanted to day-drink. Aurelie and Emmy are taking the kids out to fish, which means I get an afternoon to myself. We all do.”
Wyatt held up his hand. “Who didn’t make it?”
“Martin and Arthur,” Lewis answered. “They’ll try to come up at least once while you’re here.”
Wyatt didn’t answer and didn’t show them the door either. After another tense pause, the brothers eventually left, and Mat could hear their car pulling away from the drive. He let out a sigh, sagging against his lover, and rested his temple on the curve of Wyatt’s shoulder.
“Sorry. I did warn you they would be a lot,” Wyatt murmured.
“Trust me, that’s not it. I think it’s cute. In an annoying way,” he clarified before Wyatt could sulk. “They’re all older, right?”
“Yes, though Arthur is the second to youngest. We’re only ten months apart.”
“Shit. Your mom was really into the whole pregnant thing, wasn’t she?”
Wyatt huffed a laugh as he grabbed for his coffee again. “Something like that. One night after too much wine, she told me if I had been born earlier, she would have stopped. Makes me wonder if I might have more siblings had it not ended with me.”
Mat frowned. “What? Why? Were you some terrible baby?”
Wyatt huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t his usual, sweet sound. It was tense and a little self-deprecating. “My blindness is from a genetic condition which comes with a hormone imbalance. I was at the doctor so often for testing, for treatment, my parents dragging me all across Canada for experimental surgeries and drugs. I was six by the time they couldn’t afford to keep missing work. Nothing was helping. I was still short and skinny, and I was still blind.”
