Matt chuckles as he turns down a dirt road. “I wonder what I’d be the patron saint of. Horny tops?”
“Brothers.” I say it without hesitation.
An unreadable expression crosses Matt’s face. “I think there’s already a saint for that, Aron.”
The car grows uncomfortably quiet as it ambles down the bumpy road. He’s not taking as many precautions as earlier, so my guess is we lost whatever tail might’ve been following us. The car turns off the road, winding through the trees, and my jaw gapes open as I see the sprawling … cabin is the wrong word for it. Country manor? It’s certainly big enough that I’d wager on multiple bedrooms and baths, and a jacuzzi or swimming pool wouldn’t surprise me.
Matt spares a glance at me as he parks the car, but he doesn’t grin at my surprise.
“Yeah, it’s got all the amenities. Most importantly, a panic room. If anyone finds us, we can hold out for a month or two in there.”
“Shit, Matt, Tito really thought Dad would go to such lengths?”
“Your dad, or someone else. Think of this as an all-expenses-paid trip toChez Paranoia.”
Chapter 8
Matt
From the way Aron grunts and groans as I help him inside, his injuries are probably worse than I first thought. He’s likely torn his shoulder stitches again, and there could be other, less visible damage from the blasts than just the external cuts and scrapes. I’ve been raising my voice so he can hear me, but I’m hoping that’s a temporary effect from the explosions. I don’t know the first thing about treating busted eardrums.
A benefit to his hearing loss is that I can relax and do some of my own grunting and groaning. Dad’s beatdown is still fresh, and I ache all over.
Once inside, I slide the bolt home and lead Aron to the living room couch. It’s genuine Italian leather, but I don’t give a fuck if it’s solid gold; Aron needs a spot to lie down while I fix him up.
I get him situated with pillows and blankets, then rush off for supplies. Since Dad thought this place would be used as a last-ditch escape if he and I were attacked by our own, it should be stocked up better than a trauma center. Sure enough, I find more than I need in the hall closet. I grab all the necessaries, dump them on the coffee table, then go to the kitchen to wash myhands before getting a bowl of hot water and clean washcloths to wipe the dirt and ash off the worst of Aron’s cuts.
Poor Aron must be exhausted. He falls asleep halfway through the stitching of his shoulder, so since he’s unconscious, I sit on the coffee table and ramble about things I could never say when he’s awake.
“You scared the shit out of me, man,” I say as I wipe at a deep cut on the bicep of his good arm. Just in case he’s playing possum, I keep my voice low, so the hearing damage muffles my words. “I was terrified you’d run in after Emily even though I said I’d do it. You can’t do things like that to me, Aron. I need you too much. I fucking love you too much, you gorgeous idiot.”
He stirs a bit, mumbles something incomprehensible, then stills.
“Good. You didn’t hear that. You can’t ever know the truth, Aron. Especially not now, not with Emily gone. No, I’ve got to watch myself around you. Watch what I say, how I act. The less you know, the better. You can heal faster that way, get on with your life. It’ll be hard, and I’ll always be here for you, but it’s just better if you don’t know.”
I turn to get a fresh washcloth, and the leather sofa creaks as Aron sits up. I freeze in place, afraid of what he might have heard, but he just grabs a cloth of his own and starts cleaning my face.
“Fucking ash everywhere, Matt. You couldn’t take ten seconds to wash your fucking face off?”
“How long have you been awake?”
He snorts. “Long enough.”
Fuck. “Listen, Aron, I was just talking shit. Don’t mind what I said.”
“If that was just shit talk, then I’m the Queen of fucking England.” Aron grips my chin with his hand as he cleans theother side of my face. “And you and I both know that I’d make a terrible queen.”
“That was a dirty trick.”
A sad smile crosses Aron’s face. “You’rea dirty trick right now. Hold still.”
I don’t know what to do. I never thought he’d hear me, and now … “Aron, please, drop it. Just ignore what you heard.”
He clamps a hand over my mouth and stares into my eyes. “Ignore what I’ve known my whole life? Please, Matt, you’re not as suave and cool as you think you are. I’ve known for years, decades, and the way you blanche every time I say Emily’s name? That gives you away more than anything.” Tears stream down his dirt-covered cheeks, and I realize I neglected to clean his face off while I was washing him. He’s got a cut on his lower lip, and it’s split open. I should stitch that up.
Grabbing his wrist, I pull his hand away from my mouth. I can’t let this revelation just …go. I’ve got to know why. Why put me through all this, the torture of hearing his Emily stories, if he knew? “Then why didn’t you say anything? I’ve always been right here, Aron.”
“You deserve better than me, Matt. I’m just a bodyguard; I’m nobody special. I couldn’t limit you like that. That’s why I—” He chokes on his words, then stops to compose himself. “It’s why I married Emily. I thought that if you believed I was happy, then you’d find someone else to makeyouhappy.”
