I rush up and press my eye to the peephole. The second I see him, a shaky breath slips out of me. I fling the door open just as he stumbles forward.
“Oh, oh,” I gasp, catching him before he can hit the floor.
He doesn’t smell like alcohol. Just cold.
I guide him to the sofa, his weight heavy against me, and practically drop him down onto the cushions. Then I grab the throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around his shoulders, tucking it in tight.
The second I take my hand away, his whole body starts shaking, full-on shivers. I might still be pissed, but I don’t want him getting hypothermia. I press myself against him, wrapping my arms around his torso, rubbing his chest and arms in slow, firm motions.
Little by little, the shaking eases. His breathing evens out, just a fraction. I shift to get up, to make him something warm, but his hand shoots out, catching my wrist and pulling it against his chest.
I freeze, then slowly sink back down. My cheek rests against his shoulder, my arm draped over his middle. We end up sitting, with our right sides on the back of the sofa, him in front, me behind, like two mismatched puzzle pieces still trying to fit.
In a small, rough voice, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
I just hum.
Not “it’s okay.”
Because it’s not.
Matthew lets out a shaky breath, his soldiers shuddering under my chin. “I was projecting my childhood onto Penny,” he whispers. “And you’re not my mom.”
“Uh huh,” I murmur. I don’t add anything. I am definitely not his mother.
“I… went to see my Aunt Mia.”
My brows pull together.Aunt Mia?He’s never mentioned an Aunt Mia before.
“She practically raised me,” he says, his voice dipping lower. “But she never asked for credit. Whenever I complained, she’d remind me Ma was working hard to put a roof over our heads. She always defended her.”
His chest expands beneath my hand as he takes in a shaky breath.
“And my Ma…” His voice cracks. “She kicked Mia out of my life so she wouldn’t tell me the truth. So, I’d only ever haveherversion of the story. She’s a liar, Brooke. My own mom.”
Whatever it is has to be bad if he’s reacting like this.
“Turns out my dad never left,” he continues quietly. “He died. And my Ma… she never told me. Not because she wanted to protect me, but because she didn’t want anyone to find out about the insurance money.”
I blink, the words hitting like bricks.
“She wasn’t working herself to the bone for me like she said,” he says bitterly, his voice cracking again. “She was out living her life, letting me and everyone else treat her like some kind of martyr. Like she’d sacrificed everything for me.”
His breathing goes uneven, hitching like the words themselves are cutting him open.
“I spent my whole life thinking she was this… hero,” he whispers. “And she wasn’t. She lied to me. For years.”
My chest tightens. “I’m so sorry, Matthew.”
He nods, then slowly turns around in my arms until we’re facing each other, his forehead resting against my collarbone.
“I… I wanted you home because I didn’t want you to work like I thought my Ma had to,” he says, his voice breaking on the edges. “Every time she’d say she’dloveto be there for me but had to work, I believed her. I didn’t want that for Penny. Brooke, you have to believe me. I was just trying to protect her.”
His voice cracks completely on the last word, and then he crumples against me, burying his face in my chest. His shoulders shake, his breath warm and uneven against my skin.
I wrap my arms around him, not because everything’s suddenly fixed, not because I’ve forgotten the hurt, but because he’s my husband.
Because right now, he’s breaking.
