“It’s okay, baby boy.”
“I did the right thing coming to find you, didn’t I?” Matthew turned to face Damien, his eyes teary. “I’ve never seen my dad act like that. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“You did fine.” Damien drew Matthew to his chest and kissed the top of his head. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. And really, it’s my fault for not talking to him about us sooner. But you know what? In the long run, it doesn’t matter. No matter what, we’re going to make this work. All you need to do is trust me.”
“I trust you.” Matthew wrapped his arms around Damien’s neck, then, so softly that Damien could barely hear, he whispered, “I love you, Daddy. Thank you for being so strong for us.”
“Me?” Damien smiled. The pain from his bruised cheek was worth it. “You inspire me with your strength, baby boy. It takes guts to step into another man’s fight and say the things you did. Things may be shitty now, but we’re going to get through this. No matter what happens, I’m here. I’ve got you. I love you.”
It seemed a small thing to say, but by the way Matthew rested his head on Damien’s shoulder and hummed in contentment, it seemed for now, despite their struggles, that love would be enough.
30
Matthew
Half an hour later, Matthew rested his forehead on his knees and unwound as hot water from the shower pelted him from overhead. Rivulets streamed down the sides of his face and rushed toward his nostrils, but never came close enough that he struggled to breathe.
What a disaster today had been… and what a disaster it’d continue to be. He had no doubt that as soon as he and his father were under the same roof, there’d be a discussion about what had happened. It wouldn’t go well. Not only had Matthew told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off, but he’d struck him as well.
What had gotten into him?
Matthew groaned. He knew the answer—he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.
It being Damien.
Or rather, the way Damien made him feel safe enough to take on the world, consequences be damned.
Under his watch, Matthew felt free to say the things he’d never been brave enough to say, and when it proved too much, all it took was a simple touch from Damien to calm him down and help him feel safe. Tucked under Damien’s arm, even with his father looking for blood no more than an arm’s length away, Matthew had felt invincible. Even when the worst happened, his Daddy was there to keep him safe.
But it was their relationship that had gotten them into trouble in the first place.
Nothing was ever easy, was it?
Matthew sighed and unfolded so he was lying on his back. The spray from the showerhead beat on his chest and stomach.
If his father kicked him out and then things went south with Damien, would he be able to make it in New York as a single dad with two kids? He’d never lived on his own before, and he had no marketable skills. While he didn’t think that anything between him and Damien would change once they started living together, he had to prepare himself for the unthinkable. Emily and the baby were depending on him to make smart choices.
If he’d burned his bridges with his family, what was his next step?
Who could he trust?
The thought made Matthew queasy. He closed his eyes until the nausea had passed, then lifted his head to look at the bathroom door. The muted conversation he’d run the shower to try to ignore was over—Damien was off the phone with his boss.
When the water started to cool, Matthew groped for the tiny bar of soap he’d previously left on the side of the tub and cleaned himself without getting up. He lifted one leg and lathered it, then repeated the process with the next and worked his way up his body, arching his back to wash the parts of him flush with the porcelain. Streaming water pushed the soap from his body and sent it swirling down the drain.
It was okay not to be okay, Matthew decided as he watched soap bubbles cluster by the side of his foot. Not every day could be a good day. What was important was not giving up. It might’ve felt like everything that could have gone wronghadgone wrong, but as long as he was alive, he could turn things around.
In the end, everything would be okay.
When the last of the soap had run down the drain, Matthew sat up and worked some shampoo through his hair. By the time he’d rinsed it out, the water was more cold than warm. He turned off the spray, toweled himself dry, and pulled on the change of underwear he’d brought when he’d been expecting to stay the night. Dressed in his boxer-briefs and nothing more, Matthew padded barefoot from the bathroom to find the suite in a state of silence. Damien was slumped on the office desk, his arms folded and his face hidden from view.
“Damien?” Matthew asked uncertainly. He approached with caution. “What’s going on?”
Damien replied, but the sound was too garbled to make out.
“Damien?”
“Whitcroft didn’t know I was out of the office.” Damien didn’t lift his head—he raised one of his arms, breaking open his vacuum of despair. “I called him directly to try to save my own ass, and he had no idea what I was apologizing about. I ratted myself out.”
