by E M Lindsey
Mat’s lip twitched. “Since I basically live there, I’m sure I’ll see you.”
Sage’s grin got a little wider. “So, you two are really doing the serious thing? Fuck, man, I knew you had a little bi in you.”
Mat flipped him off as he turned back to his station to finish clearing it up. He opened his mouth to retort, but a yawn gripped him, making his own body contort with it. “Fuck,” he groaned.
Sage’s brows fell down. “You okay?”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Mat deposited the now-solid ink into a plastic bag and dropped it in the bin. “Just fucking tired. Since we got back from Canada things have been kind of fucked.” He pointed at his temple. “I think seeing how shitty Wyatt’s family was got to me.”
Sage nodded, and he didn’t look thrilled about it. “They’re fucking lucky none of the other guys were there. You know how we get each other all riled up.”
Mat laughed and knew exactly what Sage meant. The only reason he’d kept his temper was because Wyatt would have been devastated if Mat had clocked one of his brothers in the face. But if he’d been egged on by one of the guys, there was no telling how carried away he might have gotten.
“He’s been dealing kind of hard too. Like things are great between us, but I can tell he’s been suffering. I think they’ve been sending him emails and shit, trying to get him to talk. But the shit they were saying, the shit they did…” Mat rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, man. Just, what kind of family lets their brother’s ex back into the fold. The dude who tried to fucking set him up as a pedo?”
Sage’s eyes darkened. “Trust me, they better hope they don’t try to set foot here. This is our turf. We will fuck them up.”
Mat’s entire body warmed at how protective everyone had become about Wyatt. Not eight months ago, he’d been nothing more than a stranger. Things were changing—everyone was falling in love, realizing their dreams, making a future for themselves. And it had only brought them closer, brought more people into the fold for Mat to consider family. Wyatt was no exception.
“I’d be goddamn surprised if they did,” Mat told him. He went to the basin to wash up, then dragged his hand through his hair and looked up at the clock on the wall. He still wasn’t great about telling time, even without the numbers, but he saw it was creeping well into the evening. “Who’s coming in for closing walk-ins?”
“Just me tonight,” Sage said, leaning back in his chair. “Sam might drop by since May’s hanging with Will and Molls, but he had that meteor shower yoga thing tonight in the park, so it depends on how he feels.”
“You want me to stay?” Mat asked.
Sage shook his head. “Nah, get home to your man. Oh, but did you get Tony’s text about coming in early? I guess he’s got a couple journeymen who’ll be here for a few weeks, and he’s looking to offer Luke a full-time position since I’m cutting back my hours once Ted House opens.”
Mat frowned. “I guess I missed it. But yeah, no worries. I’ll catch a lift with James.”
“And then your ass is studying for the driver’s exam,” Sage said pointedly. “Promise me, okay? You’ve denied yourself a lot of shit lately. At least do this.”
Mat fought back a grin and lost. “I hate you.”
“Nah, you don’t. You kissed me way too much in the past for that. I mean, I owe you a heap of shit for all the times you swore up and down your ass was straight,” Sage said, and there was a little tension in his voice, “but I get why coming out was a lot.”
Mat’s cheeks burned with a little shame, not because he felt guilty for not coming out, but because he felt like such an idiot for not trusting the only people in the world who would have understood him. “I’ll always be sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, I just want you to try and remember we’re here for everything,” Sage said.
Mat’s throat burned a little, but he didn’t let the moment devolve into some rom-com bullshit. He grabbed his keys and phone, then his sketchpad, and tucked it under his arm. “Can you text Niko and ask him to throw some shit together for me and Wyatt. I’m going to walk over, then grab an uber home.”
“Yeah man,” Sage said, and reached for his phone. “See you in the morning.”
“You know it.” Mat gave him a last wave, then darted across the street and up the block to take care of dinner for the night.
Wyatt was starting to feel annoyed with himself at how often he was fucking with his eye. The problem was, his visual changes were so minute, it was hard to tell if they were real, or if he was just hallucinating more vision. His doctor had repeatedly assured him that the stem cells were doing their job, that he was considered a successful candidate, even if he wasn’t necessarily sighted. And that’s all he had truly wanted.
In the early morning, when the sun went right through their bedroom window at the perfect angle, he could make out the shape of Mat more clearly than he ever had before. He could make out the soft dark color of his hair, and the shadows over his face, and the sharp lines and soft swirls of his ink.
But he doubted himself, and he knew that doubt was mostly lingering effects from their trip back to Montréal. He was still angry at his brothers, at his parents, at how they ruined something that should have been so nice. He had half expected it, but part of him thought maybe they’d be happy for him at finding his own way in the world. Maybe they’d see just how fucking happy Mat made him and realize they’d been wrong all this time.
Instead, they used Mat as some sort of twisted excuse to second guess him and vindicate their decision to let Ioan back into their lives. The betrayal of it stung, gutted him like a fish, and he couldn’t have been happier to go home. They’d missed out on all the things Wyatt had wanted to do with Mat—all the things he’d wanted to show him and relive with him.
He’d been looking forward to re-writing some of his old memories of Ioan with fresh ones now that Ioan was out of his life and Mat was in it. But instead they’d mostly kept to their little rental, then fled the city the day the doctor gave his okay.
Maybe soon, he thought to himself. He was in James’ living room with James and Rowan—there was a movie on in the background, but he had tuned it out right after it started. It wasn’t just his family that was getting to him. There was also Ioan himself, who had started sending him emails after presumably one of the brothers sold him out.
They weren’t anything important—less than a few sentences, with Ioan’s typical arrogance as though he had a right to know about Wyatt’s life after all this time, after what he’d done. They were easy enough to ignore, but the one tonight had left him a little shaken.
* * *
Cariad- I know you think you’re happy, but we still need to talk. Please don’t make me come and find you. It’s not worth the drama. Call me.
* * *
His stomach had twisted, threatened to empty itself of everything he’d eaten that day. He’d used James’ as a refuge, but James and Rowan were so wrapped up in being in love, at finally finding their way to each other properly, that Wyatt was left out.
“You should get another one, Wy.”
The voice startled Wyatt out of his head, and he turned to face the shadow he knew was James. “Get what?”
“Another guide dog,” James told him. “They got some decent places round here.”
In truth, that was the second thing that had been on Wyatt’s mind. The vulnerability he’d felt at his parents’ wouldn’t have happened with Pomme. And he loved that Mat was there for him—mostly because he loved Mat—but he hated feeling dependent. It didn’t have to be that way, and he knew he was just dragging his feet. He understood guides weren’t forever. He understood that any guide he had would be a temporary assignment because dogs never did live a human lifetime. But being confronted with it, losing Pomme, that had been far harder than the divorce.
It was the one thing he wasn’t eager to talk to Mat about. He’d gladly recall every awful thing about Ioan for the rest of his life if it meant
not having to relive the gut-wrenching, empty ache he felt at losing his companion.
But James wasn’t wrong. It had been long enough. It was starting to feel like that time again. “The center where I got my first dog has been emailing me,” Wyatt confessed. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Why the hesitation?” James asked, and by his tone Wyatt could tell it was a genuine question.
“Losing Pomme was hard,” he said, his voice quiet. “And I would have to go back for a training program. It’s only a few weeks, but going back there on my own…”
“You wouldn’t have to stay with your family though, right?” Rowan pointed out softly. Wyatt found he liked the timber of Rowan’s voice, a deep rumble, but soft and almost sweet. He understood why James liked him so much. “They have a facility you can stay in.”
“They do,” Wyatt said, “but if my brothers find out…”
“Don’t tell them,” Rowan said simply. “Easy enough, right?”
Wyatt wanted to say yes. Logic told him that of course if he said nothing, his family would have no idea he’d returned to Montréal for the program. But something deep in his gut worried him—felt like he was being watched, and he didn’t know why.
Still, it was probably just another way his anxiety and fear of loss was messing with him. It would gut him to lose another companion, but he wanted that bit of freedom back that Pomme had given him. And in spite of having Mat by his side, there was nothing like having a guide. It was more than independence, it was love. Wyatt didn’t want children, but he did want another pup in the house.
“That’s fair,” he finally said. “I think it’s time.”
“Well, if you need help,” James told him, “you know you can count on us for anything.”
Wyatt managed a smile. “I appreciate it.” They fell quiet again, and Wyatt’s thoughts began to resurface. Ioan’s threats were starting to press in on him, and he knew he needed to talk to Mat about it. There was no sense in keeping it from him.
“Derek just texted. He wants to know if we want to go and get drinks,” James said. “He added that Mat’s with him at Niko’s and he says if Wyatt’s down, he’s down.”
Although Wyatt knew it was just another way to delay the inevitable, maybe having a few drinks and unwinding with Mat wasn’t the worst idea in the world. He liked going out with him. The loud music was a lot, but feeling Mat’s lithe, fit body gyrating against him was something he didn’t want to pass up on.
“I’m in,” he said. He ran a hand down his shirt, then over the tops of his jeans. “Should I change?”
“You look great,” Rowan told him. “Come on, we can take my car.”
The three of them climbed into Rowan’s car, and before long, they had arrived at a parking lot Wyatt knew well. He kept his cane close to his body, his hand on James’ shoulder as they made their way to the bar. James had the awkward gait of an amputee, but he was steady and rarely steered Wyatt wrong anymore.
Rowan gave their names at the door, and they were let in without a cover—courtesy of Amit, he figured. The place was too dark for Wyatt to see anything except flashing lights and occasional shadows, and he could smell enough sweat that told him the place was busy. He tucked his cane in closer, stepped in toward James’ body and took his arm instead of his shoulder.
James adjusted his pace as he clearly scanned the crowd for their friends, and his body relaxed as he led the way through the crowd and to a pair of high-top tables.
“Hey, babe,” Wyatt heard in his ear before warm arms circled his waist.
Wyatt closed his eyes and leaned back into Mat’s embrace. “Have you been here long?”
“Ten minutes, maybe. Amit let me sneak some food in from Niko’s if you want something. I wasn’t sure if you ate.” Mat spoke right into his ear, and Wyatt could smell the fragrant Greek spices on his breath.
“Rowan cooked,” he told him. “I wasn’t sure what time you would be done.” He took a breath, then turned to kiss Mat on the side of his face. “We need to talk about a few things later, so don’t get drunk, okay?”
Mat tensed. “Bad things?”
“Nothing to do with us, mon cœur.” He felt Mat relax after that. “For now, I just want to have a nice time. Drink and a dance?”
“Ouais,” Mat said in his terrible accent, making Wyatt grin widely. “Wait here?”
“I’m actually going to the bathroom. How bad is the path from here?” he asked.
“No crowd, no line. Everyone’s waiting for drinks,” Mat said, then kissed him one last time. “Be back in a sec.”
Mat unwound his arms and Wyatt oriented himself toward the bathroom—a path he knew well enough on his own. He bashed into a couple tables, nothing new, and it took him a moment to find the door, but he was glad he’d done this sober. His head wasn’t in the best space to navigate a crowded area while also being drunk off his ass, and he was hoping he could entice Mat back home before they got beyond coherent thinking.
Wyatt blinked rapidly in the bright, fluorescent light, then closed his blind eye and used his other to help him find the urinals, and he leaned on the wall with one hand as he relieved himself. He was halfway to zipping himself up when the door opened, and he heard footsteps walk in, then stutter. It wasn’t unusual. He got the strangest reactions when people saw him on his own with his cane, and he braced himself for the world’s most awkward offer of help.
But it didn’t come. The man just cleared his throat, then Wyatt heard the stall door open and shut. He caught a whiff of cologne—something too familiar, which made his stomach twist, but he reminded himself that Ioan had always gone for designer scents, just like every goddamn yuppie in Denver. He swallowed thickly and moved to the sink to wash up, just as the toilet flushed and the stall door opened again.
The ominous squeaking hinges made his arms breakout in gooseflesh and he took a calming breath as he reached for the soap. When his hand bumped into another, he jolted.
“Sorry,” said a gruff, hoarse voice. It was also accented, and a vicious chill crept up his spine.
“I,” he said, then stopped. “It’s fine.”
“Is it?” A Welsh accented sneer. Fuck.
“Why?” was the only word Wyatt could force past his lips. Why the fuck was he here? How did he find him? What the hell did he want?
“Is that a real question? You got my email and you ignored me,” Ioan spat. Wyatt felt him step closer, and he grabbed for his cane, but Ioan had the advantage of both speed and sight and snatched it from the wall. “I told you to just fucking answer me.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” Wyatt said. His hand itched to reach for his phone, but Ioan smelled heavily of booze and his words were slurred enough to tell Wyatt he was beyond shit-faced. “Give me my cane.”
“No,” Ioan said petulantly. Wyatt heard him tap the tip on the ground. “It’s the only way to get you to stay in one place.”
In truth, it might have been anywhere else, but he had just enough sight to find the door, and enough memory to at least make it to the back exit. If he could get enough distance, he could get his phone out and call Mat, because his only other option was beating the shit out of Ioan, and he didn’t want that drama. He just wanted him gone.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Wyatt finally said. He took half a step back and breathed slowly, trying to calm his heart. “You fucked me over, you cheated on me, tried to implicate me in your scandal. Now you think you can worm your way back into my family…”
“I was trying to give you what you wanted,” Ioan all-but shouted. His voice echoed off the tiles, making Wyatt feel disoriented for a moment. He turned his head and spotted the dark shape he knew to be the door. “You wanted…you wanted him. I know it. He told me the way you used to speak to him, the way you flirted…”
“You don’t get to blame your bad choices on me!” Wyatt hissed, then quickly switched to French and said too fast for Ioan to follow, “I’m leaving this bathroom and if you follow me, I will
make you sorry.”
“You know I don’t speak that fucking,” was all Ioan got out before Wyatt turned and ran.
He found the door and wrenched it open with unerring accuracy, then hurtled toward the back exit. Bursting out, he threw his hands out in front of him, turned left, and hurried down the path. He stumbled over a wooden pallet and his hands hit the huge bin before he was grabbed from behind, and he knew at this point, it was fight or let Ioan have his way—and he wasn’t interested in the latter.
Chapter Nineteen
Mat came to at the sight of Amit’s hand waving in his periphery. When he looked up, his friend was wearing a worried expression, his eyes darting toward the bathrooms. ‘I think I just saw Wyatt run out the back door.’
It took Mat a long moment to process the signs, and in fact it was Basil who was next to him that stood to attention. “What?” Mat demanded aloud. But he didn’t need to be told twice. Derek, Basil, and Mat all rushed down the hall in time to see a tall, lanky man darting out the back exit.
Mat’s stomach dropped and he was beyond all rational thought as he followed, Derek and Basil at his heels, and he burst into the alley just in time to see a man crowding Wyatt up against the dumpster. With a horrified swoop of his stomach. Mat realized that the man had Wyatt’s cane in his hand, and his face was twisted with rage.
“What the fuck,” Mat started to shout, but in that moment, Wyatt’s fist shot out and clocked the guy right in the face.
The impact was gunshot loud, sending him stumbling back. Basil shouted something, but before they could reach Wyatt, the stranger had him by the front again, shoving him back. Mat watched with wide, horrified eyes as Wyatt stumbled, then fell, his back hitting the pavement.
Derek moved first, grabbing the man by the back of the neck just as Wyatt’s foot shot up and sent a gut-wrenching blow to the man’s balls. If Mat hadn’t been so fucking horrified, he might have laughed at the sight of his face. The man went pink, eyes bulging, hands shaking like he was going to vomit.
