Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (8 page)

The best thing about the house was the winter season. Every year, almost like clockwork, we’d get hit with a blizzard that forced us to remain inside for days at a time. Having exhausted the entertainment value of the games and movies, our only outlet for staving off boredom was indulging in one another. The second winter I spent with Matthew, shortly after we were married, we spent two incredible days in bed together. I thought our honeymoon was exhausting, but it had nothing on that blizzard...

Apart from luxurious, Matthew’s home employs state of the art security. He’d be a fool to use anything less, considering his line of work. There are security guards stationed at the gates who make rounds on the property once an hour on ATVs. A complex key code is required to even get on the property. With the help of spotlights and cameras, nothing sets a toe on that property without alerting a highly trained team. All of whom carry guns. Despite knowing nothing could ever touch me while I was safely within the grounds, the thought of being a prisoner in my home was stifling and in the weeks before I left, it really started bothering me. Now, though, going back makes me smile, gives me a sense of security and happiness I haven’t felt in years.

“What are you thinking about?”

I snap out of my thoughts and look to find Matthew is sitting right next to me, his head cocked to the side. Tom and Leo are nowhere in sight. “Nothing,” I say too quickly. He smirks; I sigh, knowing he knows I’m lying through my teeth. “Okay, I was thinking about how much I miss your home.”

His smirk fades, his eyes growing sad. “Not much of a home anymore,” he says softly. “Hasn’t been in about five years.”

I immediately avert my eyes as my mind registers what he’s saying—or
not
saying. There’s so much I want to ask him. What’s he been doing since I left, aside from pissing off foreign defense contractors? Has he gotten a girlfriend? Has he seen
anyone
? Of course, that’s none of my business considering I’m the one who left him, but it doesn’t change my curiosity, or the feelings of jealousy when I think about him in our bed with another woman.

So now you know what it feels like for him when he thinks about you and Tom
...

Just goes to show his personal life really
isn’t
any of my business anymore.

“How’s your family?” Matthew asks suddenly. I know he’s trying to cut through the awkwardness between us.

His question only saddens me, though. “Daddy died,” I tell him quietly, looking intently at the seat in front of me.

Though I’m not looking at him I hear his sharp intake of breath, and I know he’s looking at me with sympathy. “Oh, Sam,” he whispers, reaching over for my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know...”

I only shrug.

“What happened?”

I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the comforting way his thumb is rubbing the back of my hand. “Heart attack,” I say a little breathily. “His health started deteriorating shortly after Tyler and I got back and he went in his sleep about a year and a half ago. The doctors say it was painless, so I guess that’s a plus.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely. He knows how much my father meant to me, how much it killed me to leave him to run off with Matthew. “He knew Tyler, then?”

Opening my eyes, I smile sadly. “Yes,” I confirm. “Ty had Daddy wrapped around his little finger. It didn’t matter how sick he was when we visited, he always got on the floor to play whatever game Tyler came up with.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, smiling.

“What about you?” I ask, squeezing his hand a little. “How are the rest of the Youngs?”

He raises an amused eyebrow at me. “You think I don’t know full well you speak to my little sister every week?” he says teasingly.

“Not
every
week,” I say mock-defensively. “Sometimes our schedules force us to skip conversations.”

Snorting a laugh, he rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he murmurs. “And speaking of Claire... I had three missed calls from her this morning and three very indignant voicemails asking about you.”

I wince. “Yeah, I forgot to mention I spoke to her last night before everything happened,” I say.

“So she knows I’m in town,” he states. “Or
was
in town, considering we’re probably somewhere over Illinois by now. Did you tell her
why
I was there?”

“No. But I think she came to the conclusion that something’s up all on her own.”

“Of course she did,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll call her when we’re home, try and set her mind at ease...”

My stomach does a back flip at his phrasing. It makes me feel as though I still belong there, that I never walked away in the first place.

Neither of us speaks for the next few hours, content to merely sit together holding hands. We don’t see Leo, Tom, or Tyler until the seatbelt light comes on. Matthew is asleep beside me, his head resting on my shoulder, and I’m daydreaming until I see movement out of the corner of my eyes. I flush deeply to find Tom standing in the aisle, his jaw tense and his gaze dark as he glares at my hand entwined with Matthew’s. Pulling away from his grip is more difficult when he only grunts in his sleep and holds me tighter. Tom doesn’t say a word, but I know he’s ready to explode, so I yank my hand free, causing Matthew to wake and look at me in sleepy confusion. My eyes dart over his shoulder and he follows them, landing on Tom.

Matthew stands as though he hasn’t a care in the world, grinning at the other man. “Enjoy the flight?” he asks cheerily, slipping past Tom to retake his seat beside Leo, who is watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed amusement.

I expect Tom to sit next to me again, to stake some sort of claim; instead I watch as he shakes his head and sits in the row behind me, grumbling in annoyance to himself as he buckles himself into the seat. I dread the first moment he and I have alone together.

As we descend, all my thoughts about both Tom and Matthew fade away temporarily. For the first time in five years, I’m completely content in the knowledge that I’m finally going home.

The first time I drove up this driveway, I was nineteen years old and had never even left my home state. I was nervous and terrified and excited and a hundred different emotions that I could barely come to terms with, let alone identify. At that point, I’d only known Matthew for three months and in that time, we’d gotten to know one another quite well. Though he’d left Iowa after his business had concluded, we kept in touch via telephone and internet. We spoke every night, sometimes for hours on end, and on the days when our schedules couldn’t align to accommodate some sort of communication, I was left feeling slightly depressed.

So when he made an offer to fly me out to his house in New York, I immediately accepted. It was strange how connected you could become to a person with such distance between you and them, not to mention the very long list of differences between your lives—I was a farm girl; he was living the good life. Every single person at home thought I was insane to accept his invitation, Tom especially. My father tried to argue me out of my decision, but in the end, he conceded that it was my life and that he’d noticed one hell of a change in my outlook since meeting Matthew at the diner.

Initially, I shot down all his advances to get to know me, thinking he’d give up after the first time he asked me out and I outright rejected him. Oh, how wrong I had been. Two days after our first meeting, I exited the kitchen at Chet’s carrying a large tray of food and nearly dropped it when I saw him sitting at the bar watching my every move with a large grin on his face. As much as I tried to ignore him, I caught myself looking at him far too often and I knew he was very well aware of it every time. He remained at the diner until the end of my shift—four hours later—drinking coffee, eating pie, chatting up the locals. I tried to exit without him noticing, while he was deep in conversation with Mrs. Saunders, and I thought I’d managed it, making it to my truck before I could hear a pair of feet rushing towards me.

I’d sighed in resignation and turned towards Matthew, strangely relieved that he’d caught up to me before I actually made my getaway. This time he was very insistent about taking me out for a cup of coffee and before I could stop myself, I was agreeing. That one cup of coffee kept me out
until 1AM, something I’d never done before, and it probably could have easily lasted much longer. Matthew remained in town, or at least nearby, for another week. He came to my house, met my father, brother, and little sister, all of whom did their best to intimidate my new friend. By the end of dinner, my entire family was in love with him, which made me fall a little bit in love with him as well. The only person who didn’t seem to like Matthew was, predictably, Tom. Tom hated every little thing about Matthew and Matthew found this incredibly amusing.

The moral of the story was that Matthew Young once again got exactly what he wanted: me. During the
two weeks I spent with him, I fell for him completely. Being with him, in every sense of the word, was incredible, and going home had been the worst thing I ever had to do. Within a month, I was back in New York with him and I never looked back. I felt alive with him in a way I hadn’t felt since my mother died and I hated the thought of walking away from that. I knew it was the same for Matthew, which made me feel less guilty for immersing myself in his life.

Eight years later, I’m returning to that life, however temporar
ily it might be. I’m in the backseat of the car sitting beside my son with Tom on the other side, and all I can look at right now is Matthew sitting in the front passenger seat, his fingers tapping against the arm rest in what I know to be a nervous habit. No one has said a word since we stepped off the plane, but the tension between Matthew and Tom, and Tom and me, is palpable. I’ve been able to ignore it for the most part by submersing myself in daydreams that I will undoubtedly feel guilty about having later on.

Excitement builds as we pass through the gates onto Matthew’s property. Even Tom has stopped sulking to look around. Trees are everywhere lining the driveway that takes us uphill and when the house comes into view, Tom lets out a low whistle of appreciation that I’m certain he didn’t intend to actually let us hear.

Leo stops the car just in front of the ground level garage and we pile out. Without even asking, Tyler starts running through the yard as though he belongs here—which, I remind myself with a pang, he does. I glance over and see Matthew watching him with a small smile that is at once joyful and incredibly sad, and leaves me feeling incredibly guilty for keeping these two apart. I always knew Matthew would be an incredible father and he should have been given the opportunity to actually explore that facet of his life. And I have no idea how to go about making it up to them. Even Tom seems to feel a little bad as he looks between Tyler and his father.

“Shall we?”

I jump when I hear Matthew’s voice practically in my ear and look up to find him smirking at me. “Must you creep up on people like that?” I ask, feigning annoyance.

His smirk widens. “Must you be so jumpy?” he shoots back.

Tom walks around the car and glares at us which, as always, only increases Matthew’s enjoyment. He walks away to call Tyler back so we can head inside, leaving Tom and me alone for a moment.

“What is your problem?” I whisper to him.

His eyes widen. “
My
problem?” he whispers back. “Samantha, I walked out from watching television with
your son
to find you curled up in a chair with your ex-husband! Who, I may add, is the man responsible for our current predicament of being forced out of our home.
And
is the bastard who—”

“Stop!” I interrupt harshly, glaring up at Tom. “I’m sorry about what you walked up on. I really am. It is not my intention to make you jealous or angry or to make you hate Matt even more than you already hate him. It won’t happen again.”

I know there is so much more he wants to say on the subject, but when he glances over my shoulder, his expression hardens, he nods, and moves past me. When I turn to see what stopped him, I find Matthew at the top of the long staircase to the front door watching us with an unreadable expression in his eyes as he follows Tom’s movements closely. His eyes dart to me briefly before turning to open the door.

Inside, it doesn’t seem like anything has really changed since I left. The furniture is still the same, the décor is still the same... Even the photo taken on our wedding day is still in place. My eyes linger on this for quite a while, staring at the incredibly happy people in the picture. Matthew and I are staring into each other’s eyes as though if we were to look anywhere else, the world would have ended—and I suppose at the time that’s exactly how I felt. Even in the freeze frame, the love for me in his eyes was more than apparent and the look in my own is one of disbelief that I’d managed to make such an incredible man fall for me.

“Mommy! That’s you!”

I’m snapped out of my bittersweet reverie as Tyler speaks, looking up at me with his toothy grin. “Yeah, baby, it is,” I say quietly, my eyes darting around to find Matthew. He looks uncomfortable, as though he suddenly wishes he had taken the portrait off the wall above the fireplace. I try to give him a smile of reassurance that I don’t actually feel, but he’s already wandered away to answer a call on his cell phone.

“You looked happy,” Tom comments quietly, also staring up at the picture.

I sigh. Though I’d invited half my town to my wedding, Tom had declined to attend. He hadn’t believed I would actually marry a man I’d known for only six months and thought I was crazy to even consider it. For the week leading up to the wedding, I had almost daily phone calls from him, most of which I rejected, trying to talk some sense into me. After the wedding, I didn’t speak to the man who I considered my best friend from the time I started walking for two and a half years, until the night I showed up unannounced at his house.

“I was happy,” I reply just as quietly. It was true. That day had been among the best of my life, second only to the birth of my son.

Matthew strolls back in the room. “Right. So I have some work to take care of,” he says briskly. “Make yourselves at home. Sam knows her way around the place.” I don’t miss the not-so-subtle reminder directed at Tom that this had once been my home. “Leo’s going to order a couple pizzas, since I don’t know how long I’ll be. But let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he disappeared down the hall to his office, leaving me with Tom’s grumbles about how poor a host Matthew is to bring us into his house, then abandon us. “Stop,” I warn him.

“Stop what?” he snaps back.

“Acting like a petulant child,” I reply immediately.

He glares at me, but wisely keeps his mouth shut against any argument he may have come up with. Shaking my head at him, I turn, noticing our ba
gs are gone—probably upstairs in the bedrooms—and I offer to take Tyler on a little tour. Tom follows us grudgingly. The first thing I notice is that my and Tom’s bags are just inside the door of one of the guestrooms and I wonder whether this is Matthew’s or Leo’s decision—though I’m sure if Matthew had his way, I’d be sleeping as far from Tom as humanly possible while still keeping us in the same house. Next, I note that the bedroom where Tom and I will be sleeping is as far from Matthew’s as it can be.

When we find Tyler’s room, I can only stare in disbelief. The last time I was in this room, it was dominated by a crib, changing table, and baby toys. I don’t know when Matthew changed it, but now it’s got a child-sized bed, less babyish decoration, a little desk and bookcase, and a large toy box that I just know will be filled with age appropriate things for a six-year-old boy. I wonder how long it’s been like this, whether Matthew had made phone calls while we were in Omaha to have the room prepared for our arrival or if he is just sentimental and wanted the room like this to remind himself of his son whenever possible. While Tyler occupies himself with the toy box, I force my mind to settle on the thought that Matthew did this because of his nieces and nephews whom I’m sure visit often.

“So what do you think?” I wandered back to my guestroom to find Tom standing at the window looking out onto the grounds, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He turns slowly, sitting on the windowsill. “It’s a nice place,” he mutters. “I can see why you liked it here. There’s actually a view that’s not farmland and animals.”

I smile slightly, grabbing our duffel bags off the floor and placing them on the large bed. “Wait until you see the lake. Matt’s got a small boat that he takes out fishing when he has a spare minute. I’m sure he’d let you use it if you wanted.”

To my surprise, Tom actually perks up a bit at this news. “I still don’t like this,” he says fifteen minutes later after we’ve unpacked what little amount of clothing I managed to stuff into the bags. We’re lying on our backs side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling.

“I know you don’t,” I say. “I’m not actually a big fan of it either, but I’d rather be here than at home unaware of the situation.”

“I agree,” he replies with a resigned sigh. “He still wants you, though. And he doesn’t seem to have any respect for our relationship.”

I close my eyes against my eye-rolling. “That’s just Matt,” I say. “He does have respect for our relationship, but at the same time, he and I have a very long history together and that’s not something that just goes away.” I roll onto my side to better look at Tom; he turns his head to meet my gaze. “And I really am sorry for letting him fall asleep on my shoulder on the plane. I know it hurt your feelings, even if you won’t admit it, and that is the last thing on my mind right now. I’m with you, Tom, and I swear I will try to keep my distance with Matt until this whole thing blows over.”

His blue eyes search mine. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, aside from reassurance, but after a moment, I find myself sandwiched between him and the mattress as he kisses me deeply, almost possessively. And if we hadn’t been interrupted by a clearing of a throat from the open doorway, I know exactly what that would have led to. We break apart and I feel my entire body flushing in embarrassment when I see Leo at the door, looking anywhere but directly at us.

“Um, sorry,” he mutters in his own embarrassment. “Just wanted to let you know the pizza is here. I can get Tyler situated if you want...”

Before I can even reply, I hear Leo’s footsteps beating a hasty retreat down the hall and can feel Tom’s frustration mounting at the interruption. Reluctantly he rolls off me and we start to arrange ourselves so our shirts are straight and our hair isn’t sticking straight up.

“Does anyone know the meaning of privacy around here?” Tom grumbles.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “The door was wide open,” I remind him. “If it had been closed, he would have knocked.”

“So what’s the deal with Leo?” Tom asks as we wander downstairs in search of Tyler.

I glance up at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs as though even he isn’t sure what he wants to ask.

“Matt and Leo have been f
riends since they were kids,” I explain. “After high school, Matt went to college, Leo went into the military. When he got out, Leo had some... issues with some of the things he dealt with overseas and had a difficult time adjusting to civilian life, but Matt was at his side every step of the way and when he first started his business, Leo was the first person he hired to help him. Officially, he’s in charge of security; unofficially, he takes responsibility for almost everything. Confidant, therapist, talking Matt out of really bad ideas...” I shrug. “Exactly what a best friend does, I suppose. And he lives here. There’s another little house down towards the water that Matt had built for him. He wanted Leo to stay here, but Leo being Leo refused to be a roommate. He comes and goes as he pleases and it seems to work out fine for both of them.”