Matt gave an insouciant shrug and grinned. “You reached out. Invited me to the party.”
“I didn’t reach out.” Leah stumbled over her words as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your friends did. Same thing.”
“My friends?” Why was he not making any sense?
“Someone called Florian messaged me on my socials, put me in touch with Mr. Hale. It would’ve been easier if you’d called, babe.”
“I don’t know anyone called Florian.” None of this was getting any less confusing. “Wait. You’ve spoken to Jackson?”
“I think I talked to his dad.”
She was goggling again. In fact, Leah thought she might be the living embodiment of goggling right now but she was incapable of doing anything else. “I. Do. Not. Understand,” she enunciated as clearly as she possibly could. “Why would you speak to Alistair Hale?”
“Who are you?”
Oh, fuck.
Both Leah and Matt turned their heads, like synchronized swimmers minus the nose-clips, to find Jackson glowering from the other side of the foyer.
“I’m Leah’s guest—an old friend.” Matt slid an unexpected arm around her waist and his fingers tightened on her hip when she jerked away. The undertones of the scrappy fighter grated beneath his words. Leah was hauled back to a time when they’d been as familiar to her as her own, and she flinched as he pressed a kiss to the side of her face, his eyes on Jackson all the while. Matt wasn’t intimidated by the far bigger man; he didn’t have the self-preservation for that. Never had.
Frigid detachment glittered like hoarfrost in Jackson’s eyes. Leah opened her mouth to explain, found she couldn’t, and closed it again.Fuck!
“You’d better come on through and join the madhouse then.” Jackson shrugged as if he couldn’t care less and turned on his heel.
When Matt took a step to follow, Leah grabbed him by the arm. “I don’t think so! Tell me what the hell is going on,” she hissed.
His pacifying grin was irritatingly punchable. Her hands curled into fists in preparation. “Don’t be dramatic. There’s loads of time for chatting, Lee. I’m starving. I need food. I could smell the grill from outside.” He sloped off after Jackson, studied self-confidence in the relaxed curve of his shoulders and hands shoved deep in his pockets. Matt was a chameleon, with an enviable ability to meld into any group. His personas were numerous, his authenticity intangible. New situations, new people, held no fear for him.
Leah banged her forehead three times on the front door but it didn’t make Matt disappear or the situation any clearer. Why did life have to be this complicated? Squaring her shoulders, she followed both the shadow from her past and the fragile light in her present with a tight throat and a headache she couldn’t blame on anyone but herself.
Matt made a beeline for the food and began piling it on a plate, seemingly oblivious to the curious glances from the other guests. He’d just taken a huge bite out of a chicken skewer when Alistair Hale crossed the veranda, a crocodile smile on his lean face.
“Matthew! So pleased to finally meet you in person.” His gaze dipped from Matt to Leah and back again. That he had manufactured this whole situation was as clear as the chicken between Matt’s teeth. Less obvious to Leah was why. She narrowed her eyes and waited. “People are so quick to slate social media, but it’s such a great way to get in touch with old friends.”
“Only if you want to,” Leah muttered.
Alistair ignored her. “It took my assistant five minutes to find Matthew’s contact details from an old post on one of your accounts, Miss Raven. I thought you’d enjoy the chance to catch up. And then this barbecue came along—what better opportunity?” Jackson’s dad turned to Matt. “Maybe she’ll tell you when she’s moving on from here. She’s been a little closed-mouthed to us but it would be good to know.” He looked down at Matt’s plate. “I think I’ll get myselfsome of that before it’s all gone.” Giving them a tense but satisfied nod, he wandered away.
Damn, Jackson’s dad was a dick.
Matt sucked noisily at a rib, watching her from underneath his messy mop of hair. He reached for her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles and leaving a smear of barbecue sauce at the base of her index finger. “I miss you, babe. Nothing is the same without you. We were so good together.”
Leah had nothing to say to that. He must be thinking of someone else. They had been the definition of a dumpster fire. She pulled away and reached for a napkin. At the grill, Jackson’s eyes bored into hers, his movements stiff, and Leah could feel him closing the doors on her with every agonizing minute that passed. She had no idea how to make any of this better.
“What did Alistair Hale say that made you think coming here was a good idea?” Leah hissed, frustration lacing every word. “We haven’t been in touch for two years.”
Matt wiped his mouth on his wrist; his eyes danced. She remembered belatedly how much he thrived on drama.
“You look like you need a drink, poppet.” Hazel interrupted them with classic timing and pushed a glass of iced lemonade into her hand. Leah took a grateful swallow. “Who’s your friend?”
“Hazel, this is Matthew. He’s not a friend.”
The older lady’s blue eyes were suddenly far less welcoming. “Ah. I’ve heard about you.”
Matt grinned a feral grin. “Only good things, I’m sure.”
