by E M Lindsey
Not that it would be possible, and he wasn’t foolish enough to believe it. So instead he simply held Wyatt to him, closed his eyes, and said a small prayer that maybe—just maybe—this would all be for good.
Chapter Twenty
Wyatt wasn’t thrilled about having to deal with Ioan’s assault while dealing with the pain of a broken hand, but his ex wasn’t making it easy. First Ioan had tried to claim that Wyatt attacked him—though that was quickly shot down before it even got to Wyatt. Then he claimed they were still married and were having a domestic squabble, but Wyatt easily proved their divorce was well over a year before. He provided a print-out of the emails Ioan had been sending, and the worst part about that was knowing Mat was with him when he handed them over.
He’d have hell to pay—at least what little hell Mat would give him—for not saying anything sooner, but at the moment Mat remained stoically quiet as Wyatt gave his last statement about Ioan’s attack. He was being brought up on charges of stalking as well as assault, and he was being held on bond. The cops didn’t know if he’d be extradited before the hearing, but they seemed pretty certain Ioan wouldn’t be able to escape the charges, and it looked like he’d be deported when it was over.
Wyatt was hard-pressed to give a single shit what happened to Ioan after that.
“So uh, are we going to talk about the whole emails thing?” Mat asked as they headed down the street toward the shop. Mat had a few clients that afternoon and evening, so they’d decided to stop by Masala for lunch before Wyatt hitched a ride home and Mat finished out the evening.
Wyatt sighed and rubbed at his eye. “If you would like to,” he told him. “There’s not much to say.”
“He was sending you threats,” Mat pointed out.
“Ioan has never been a threat to me before,” Wyatt countered. “He was trying to get my attention and I wasn’t interested in giving it to him. Even the last one, I didn’t think he’d actually show up. Putain,” he spat.
He felt Mat startle against his hand, then he laughed. “Okay, swearing in French is usually a bad sign with you.”
Wyatt shrugged one shoulder, frustrated that his hand was broken, frustrated that Ioan had taken his fucking cane and cornered him, frustrated that now he had to drag his feet with his ex’s hearing all because Ioan had decided to continue his path of dip-shittery.
“I just want to know you’ll tell me when important shit comes up,” Mat pressed.
He came to a stop, and Wyatt knew that meant they were at the shop door, so he pushed his cane in front of him and walked in. From the lack of movement in front of them and the quiet atmosphere, he assumed it was mostly dead.
“I do tell you, but my ex sending me emails because I’ve been ignoring him didn’t seem important. I honestly didn’t think he’d actually show up here. I don’t even know how he found me,” Wyatt reminded him.
Mat let out a slow breath. “That’s fair, I guess. It just sucks. That scared the shit out of me.”
Wyatt let out a small, tense laugh as he squeezed Mat’s hand tighter. “I know.”
Mat made a small noise, then dragged Wyatt off to the side and out of the way of the door. He held him by the sides of his face, his breathing a little ragged. “Whatever it was like for me, I’m sure it was worse for you. It just…it put a lot of things into perspective for me.”
Wyatt nodded, but he knew this wasn’t exactly the place for this talk. “When we get home tonight?”
Mat tipped his head down, knocking their foreheads together. “Yes. When we get home.”
Wyatt was very much interested in the some day when ‘home’ meant a place for the both of them. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he and Mat linked hands again and went to greet Will as they ordered their lunch.
Wyatt hung out at the tattoo shop for an hour as he waited for Sam to finish his early afternoon client. Wyatt never minded hanging around, though he worried more often than not that he was a burden. He had very little to contribute to the dynamic of the place, even if he was becoming closer to all of them. But he enjoyed sitting there on the plush sofa, listening to the quiet whirr of the tattoo machines, the gentle, soothing tones of the artists with their nervous clients, the faint music, the constant laughter.
It was a home in a way he’d never had before, and he was coming to terms with allowing himself to want it—knowing the risk of pain, which would floor him if he ever lost it.
“Hey, babe.” That was Sam, giving himself away by his favorite term of endearment and the way the rubber on his wheels faintly squeaked over the polished tile floors.
Wyatt sat up with a smile. “Time to go?”
“If you’re ready. We can hang out if you feel like it, though.”
Wyatt shook his head, pushing himself to stand, and he stretched his back before grabbing his cane, which he’d propped against the wall. “No. I have work to get done, as much as I’d love to stay and procrastinate.”
Sam chuckled quietly as he led the way through the side exit and toward the parking lot. “Do you mind if we grab May first? Kat said she’s been in a mood all day.”
“Of course not.” Wyatt wasn’t big on kids, but the babies of Irons and Works were starting to grow on him. He and Mat hadn’t ever had that talk before, and though the idea of kids wasn’t a deal-breaker, he found himself hoping it was just another same page he was taking for granted. But it was no hardship to spend a little time with Sam’s daughter. He hadn’t been entirely involved during the struggle for custody, but he’d been around enough to have been affected by the profound relief when Rowan’s hard work came through.
“Just in front of you. You’re facing the passenger door,” Sam said before wheeling around to the other side.
Wyatt situated himself in the seat as he listened to Sam lift up, then disassemble his chair. “Can I ask you something?” he said once Sam started the engine.
“Shoot,” Sam replied easily.
Wyatt worried his bottom lip between his teeth for couple of seconds, then breathed out a long sigh. “I want to ask Mat to move in with me.”
Sam made a considering noise. “Alright. What ah…what exactly are you asking me?”
Wyatt felt his cheeks get a little hot, and he felt profoundly naïve in the ways of relationships. He’d dated a bit, fucked a lot, but had spent almost all of his adult formative years married to a bastard. He was so far out of his depth. “Is it too soon?”
Sam let out a startled laugh, then reached over and clapped Wyatt on the thigh. “There’s not like some gay industry standard for how long you’re required to wait, man. If it’s right for you, it’s right for you. The worst he can do is say no.”
“The worst he can do is tell me I’ve ruined it and never want to see me again,” Wyatt said, surprised at how readily he was admitting his insecurities.
Sam made a soft noise of sympathy. “Trust me when I say that boy is head over heels in love with you. I’ve known him since he walked into the shop that first day six years ago, and he’s always been a content sort of guy, but I’ve never seen him this happy.”
Wyatt had no reason not to believe him. For all they’d been through in the short span of their official relationship, they felt solid. They felt right. He knew it was just fear talking. “My last marriage was…”
Sam grunted. “You don’t gotta tell me, man. That dude is lucky he walked away with only crushed balls and a few bruises.”
Wyatt snorted a laugh and shrugged. “Knowing he’s probably going to have his visa revoked is revenge enough for me. I just…I’m afraid it ruined me. I’m afraid he ruined my ability to be what someone else needs. I trust Mat, but I’m afraid all the time.”
“That he’s someone like your ex?” Sam asked, and there was a faint hint of warning in his tone.
Wyatt was profoundly grateful he could shake his head and with total honesty say, “No. Absolutely not. I’m afraid that I make things wrong. Toxic. Mat’s been through so much, I don’t want him to suffer more because o
f me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Sam said, and with the fierce tone, Wyatt couldn’t help but believe him.
“Can I just say though,” Sam said, and Wyatt felt the car turn down the familiar path to Tony and Kat’s, “that place is a little small for just you, let alone both of you.”
At that, Wyatt laughed. “It wasn’t my intention to stay there. It was never my intention to stay at all—but leaving is the last thing in the world I want to do now.” He closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. “If I do this, I want to start something with him. Something new. Find a place together, create something that’s ours.”
“He won’t tell you no, if that’s what you’re worried about it. I’d bet my right hand on it,” Sam said.
Wyatt’s lip quirked up in a half smile. “Thank you. It’s not just Mat I’m worried about losing. It’s all of you.”
“Trust me, Wyatt, now that you’re one of us, we aren’t letting go without a fight.”
Of all the ways to be met at the door, Wyatt dropping to his knees and taking Mat’s cock into his mouth was probably a close second to the fact that he had Wyatt to greet him at all. Mat’s shoulder and wrist were aching from the long day spent in his station, hunched over arms, thighs, and backs. It was worth it, for his stall rent paid, and the cash in his pocket, and the three future appointments he’d booked for later that weekend.
But he’d been looking forward to unwinding and this was a great start. Initially he’d come to Wyatt’s to ask his boyfriend to sleep at his house that night. He wanted more room to walk around in, a standard kitchen to cook, and a bath he could sink into, even if his body was too tall to fit all the way inside. His apartment wasn’t huge, but it was more than Wyatt’s closet-sized shower stall and two-burner stove. Now, though, he was having some second thoughts. When Wyatt sank down far enough that Mat’s cock bumped the back of his throat, his knees went weak and he had to brace himself against the door to keep himself upright.
“Fuck, sweetheart. God, you take my cock so well.” The words bubbled up, unbidden, unashamed as he traced his thumb around where Wyatt’s lips were stretched around his girth. Wyatt’s eyes were closed, a flush spreading up from his neck to the tips of his ears, and his hands, which were pressed to Mat’s thighs, were shaking. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”
Wyatt whimpered, sucked harder, and Mat came with a small shout. His head fell back, cracking against the hard wood, and he felt Wyatt shudder and then cry against his softening cock. When he managed to peer one eye open, he saw Wyatt holding his limp cock, a dribble of white come dripping from his knuckles.
“Holy shit, baby. Did you come?” Mat asked.
Wyatt swallowed thickly, then eased to his feet with a small groan and swiped his hands on his jeans before stepping out of them all the way. “The sounds you make, the things you say,” he muttered, leaning his face into the crook of Mat’s neck.
Mat’s arms came around him easily, holding him close, tight, never wanting to let go. “I’m so fucking beat right now,” he admitted. “Did you eat?”
“James had some chicken in his smoker, left you some on the table,” Wyatt mumbled. He finally peeled himself away, turning with a hand on the wall to guide himself toward the bedroom. Mat took a minute to appreciate the view—the way he had a slight curve at his waist, the round, pale ass moving with each step. In the faint, dim light of the single lamp he always left on, Mat could make out the silvery strands peppered through Wyatt’s dark hair.
He really was in love with him.
He ached to follow, but there was food, and it took the edge of feeling a little claustrophobic in the small house. He ate straight out of the plastic container James had brought over, devouring two legs and a corn cob before washing up in the sink. Stripping out of his clothes, he threw them on the sofa, then made his way to the bedroom where Wyatt had changed and was now sprawled out on top of the comforter.
It was warm from the little space heater, and there was snow falling outside the window, which made him feel safe and comfortable. It was no trouble at all to curl into Wyatt’s side and press his face to the other man’s arm. “How was your day after you took off?”
“Busy,” Wyatt said. He reached over to drag his hand over Mat’s hair, the metal side of the splint catching on a few strands and tugging. “Got some work done, though it was a huge pain with my fingers so immobile.”
Mat rolled onto his back and took Wyatt’s hand in his. “May I?”
“Of course,” Wyatt said, easy as anything. He put his own comfort and safety in Mat’s hands, and it was a lot for the other man to shoulder, even if he wouldn’t have it any other way.
With delicate touches, Mat unwrapped Wyatt’s fingers and prodded at his knuckles. The swelling had gone down, the shape the same slender length as it had always been. It could have been a lot worse, and he knew Wyatt got off lucky.
“You’ll live,” he said with a small sigh after a beat.
Wyatt laughed and shook his head, using his freed fingers to drag a line down Mat’s face. “It doesn’t hurt much. I owe you for that.”
Mat’s brows dipped. “Baby, I’m not the one who sorted you out at the hospital.”
“You treated me before we could get there. I rely on my hands. If it hadn’t been for you, I probably would have made them worse.” Wyatt rolled toward him and laid his palm flat over the rapid beat of Mat’s heart. “You’d be a great doctor.”
Mat winced a little, as he always did when someone told him that with the same sincerity Wyatt had just used. He would have been a great doctor. He had been. It wasn’t just the privilege given to him by his parents that had gotten him where he was. He had worked for it, and he still felt gutted at how quickly it was ripped away.
“There are blind doctors, you know,” Wyatt said after a few minutes of basking in each other’s presence.
Mat rolled a little toward him, taking care with his unwrapped hand. “Uh…?”
“Not many. I think only one or two ever, but they exist. In spite of their accommodations, they went through their schooling, they did their residency. They do the same job you did.” Wyatt spoke in low tones, like he was afraid to spook Mat, and it was probably a good idea.
Mat immediately started to bristle. “It’s not the same…”
“No, it’s not,” Wyatt said, and used his uninjured hand to press a finger to Mat’s lips. “You have advantages where they don’t, and they have some where you don’t. But I would think of it as even footing. Even if you don’t want to do what you’d done before, you still have options. Just like with driving—maybe you just needed someone to show you that not all the doors were closed.”
Mat squeezed his eyes shut, pressing a kiss to the tip of Wyatt’s finger before it was dragged away, tracing a path over his chin, then joining Wyatt’s other hand over his chest. “I…honestly I’ve been thinking about it. Sort of. I mean, I didn’t really let myself acknowledge it, but…but I’m not the person sitting in a hospital bed all those years ago unable to speak or understand what people were saying to me. I got better. I got as better as I’m going to be, and it’s…I think I’m pretty good.”
Wyatt chuckled, low in the back of his throat, and craned his neck to steal a kiss. “Better than just good, mon cœur. Just…food for thought, eh?”
“Yeah,” Mat breathed out. For the first time since setting foot in Colorado, he let the idea percolate. He wasn’t ready to make a decision yet—and maybe he never would be, but damned if he didn’t finally feel safe to consider that he did have other options.
“There’s something else,” Wyatt said, now sounding a little sleepy.
Mat hummed, then ease himself into a half sitting position, taking Wyatt’s hand back in his. He reached for the splint and gently eased it back around his fingers. “What’s up? You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know.” Wyatt sighed out a breath, the air escaping with a tremor. “I brought it up to Sam, who told me I was being
an idiot for…for my nerves. And I’m certain he’s right, but I need you to know that whatever you think, I don’t want anything between us to change. I will do anything as long as I can keep this.” He punctuated his sentence by curling a hand around Mat’s wrist and holding tight.
Mat’s stomach twisted with worry, and he shifted so he could face his boyfriend properly. He locked eyes with Wyatt’s dancing ones, touching his cheek, rubbing at the faint blush on his skin. “Nothing will change my mind about us.”
Wyatt swallowed thickly, nodded, then squeezed his eyes shut. “We haven’t been dating a long time, but we’ve been through a lot. If I get a dog, I need to move. This place would be approved, but barely, and I want…no, I need something else. More than this.”
“Okay,” Mat said slowly. He recalled the night he and Wyatt got home from the hospital, and the things Wyatt had said to him then.
Wyatt cursed under his breath, letting out a long string of French before he opened his eyes and cupped the side of Mat’s face with his palm. “I want to know if you’d like to live with me.”
Mat couldn’t stop his grin. It was immediate, and brilliant, and unavoidable. He’d wanted so damn desperately to hear those words from Wyatt when he wasn’t high as a kite and coming off a violent attack. Now that he had, he wasn’t sure he could answer—and not because he didn’t want to, but having this as his reality was overwhelming.
“Mateo?” Wyatt asked quietly, his brows dipped in a worried frown.
Mat cleared his throat, then closed his hand over Wyatt’s and pressed his palm hard to his cheek. “Sorry I…” He trailed off and gave a rough laugh. “I just love you a lot. And all of this is so unexpected. You’re here offering me something I never thought I’d have again. Hell, something I never thought I’d have, because I’ve loved before, but never like this.” He took a slow breath, then dropped his hands to Wyatt’s hips, pressing their foreheads together. “Yes. The answer is yes. Fuck yes. Absolutely, completely, and utterly. Yes.”
