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“You okay there, son?” Ray rested his large hand on Matty’s shoulder, shaking him out of his straying thoughts. The kind eyes of the older man were surrounded by an intricate pattern of wrinkles from years spent at sea subjected to all kinds of weather.
“Yeah, Ray, I’m okay…” Matty nodded. He attempted a weak smile, but it died prematurely at the right corner of his mouth. Dropping the leash on the ground next to them, Ray pulled him against his chest in a massive, all-consuming embrace. Matty melted into the older man’s chest that smelled of the ocean and a hint of sweet tobacco. Ray had always enjoyed a pipe at the end of a long day at sea, not being able to shake the bad habit even though his doctor had reprimanded him about the possible dangers of smoking. As Ray had told his son on one of the many occasions that they had discussed the matter, “as long as I can still beat your sorry ass in arm wrestling, I decide when and how much I smoke.”That had been the end of it. The twenty-one-year-old Austin was still no match for the older O’Neil when it came to arm wrestling.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, son. Don’t you worry now,” Ray mumbled against the top of Matty’s head. At 6’3”, he towered over Matty by several inches, his shoulders carrying a slight slump from years of hard physical labor. “My boy’s gonna take good care of ya, you hear me now?”
Matty could all but nod as he sniffled against Ray’s broad chest. Words were escaping him—everything just too raw, too intense, in that very moment. He was still recovering from the news that Wilson had brought with him from Eden and from seeing Ethan again after all this time. A few weeks in the company of his best friend after three years of separation was not nearly enough even though Ethan had promised that they would text and talk all the time—a promise, he’d kept so far, calling Matty several times a week.
The concern about his mother was a constant presence, much like a fly buzzing around in the back of his mind. Even though the specialist from Waco, a Dr. Judith Swanson, whom he’d talked to on the phone, anticipated that his mother would make a full recovery considering her injuries, age and overall general health, Matty still worried about her. It was as if now that his asshole father had finally been taken out of the equation, Matty could allow himself to worry about his mom. To care about her once again, picturing a future where they could perhaps one day become something resembling a mother and a son again. Where they could work at rebuilding the relationship, which had for so many years lived in the shadows of his father’s terror regime.
Exhaling deeply, Matty disentangled himself from Ray’s firm hold.
“I’m okay, Ray, truly,” he murmured, his voice strange to his own ears. Frail. Shaky. “Everything’s gonna work out—your son has booked us a hotel and everything. There’s even a pool,” Matty grinned weakly.
“A pool?” Ray huffed. “Now, what the heck do you boys need a pool for? You oughta be fine for a few weeks without a swim. Ain’t no need to hop in a lukewarm hole full of chlorine when you’ve got the ocean waiting for ya when you get back home. You’ll probably just catch one of those city bugs or one of them STDs.” The older man shook his balding head while he mumbled something unintelligible to himself, looking in Austin’s direction.
“You okay for cash, Junior?” he hollered at Austin who squinted against the late afternoon sun, smiling at the older O’Neil.
“Yeah, I’m good, Pops,” Austin grinned, his deep voice filled with affection. There was a rather unique bond between father and son. So similar in their mannerisms and ways. The sound of their voice and the humor they shared between them. From appearance, you never would’ve guessed that Ray and Austin were related. Austin looked every bit like his mother with his dark hair, gray eyes, olive complexion and high cheekbones, whereas Ray lived up to his Irish name with his auburn beard and blue eyes, skin pale as the day he was born. But they resembled each other where it mattered, as Ray used to say, when people commented on the physical differences between father and son.
Ray nodded as he picked up the dog leash and murmured something about a“juicy bone”at Cassie, and Matty couldn’t help blushing as his gaze connected with a smug Austin.Jesus Fucking Christ.That man.My man.Leaning against the hood of their truck, beefy arms on full display, his broad chest encased in a tight, white t-shirt, Austin winked while he adjusted himself discreetly, just in time before Will’s old truck pulled up behind his. Patches of rust were still bleeding through the layer of blue paint, and Matty reminded himself that he needed to remind Will to take the truck to the garage. Yeah, once he got back, they would deal with that.
“Hon, I know you said you were gonna eat on the road…” Millie started as soon as she got out from the passenger side, struggling with a midsize cooler, “but I made some sandwiches for you boys, just in case.” Her husband was grinning in the background, shrugging at Matty, who just shook his head in return. He’d accepted a long time ago that it was no use arguing with Millie Hart about mundane things such as food, sunscreen, and an extra warm sweater for chilly summer days at sea. Once the stubborn fifty-six-year-old put her mind to something, you might as well just throw in the towel.
“Looks damn good, Millie,” Austin nearly drooled as he lifted the lid and peeked at the six sandwiches. “Is it roasted chicken I smell?” He asked, licking his lips suggestively. His man was always hungry—hell, he could clean out their medium-size fridge in an afternoon and still complain that he was famished.
“It is,” Millie beamed as she gave Austin a quick peck on the cheek, before turning her attention to Matty, who just stood there, smiling goofily. “And no salami, sweetheart,” she crooned, a brief shadow moving across her kind face before she pulled Matty against her chest.
Yes, he’d decided to come clean and tell Will and Millie everything following Deputy Wilson’s visit in Grant’s Harbor. Matty was tired of hiding such a huge chunk of his past from two of the most important people in his life. It was exhausting, really, to not be able to share these parts of himself with his found family. Because as much as he hated Eden and what had happened back then, the ugly parts, the scars and the bad memories were as much a part of him as all the good stuff. There was no way around it. It had happened. It had been done to him. It had not broken him, and it was about time that he shared his past with the people who loved him. Because there was no doubt in his heart that Millie and Will loved him.
“We couldn’t have loved you any more even if you were our own flesh and blood.”Matty recalled Millie’s words on the night that he’d told them everything. No sugar coating. No secrets. No shame. Austin had almost squeezed his fingers off as they’d sat next to each other on the brown corduroy couch in the Hart’s living room.“No one’s ever gonna hurt you again, kid,”Will had spoken, his voice vibrating with pent-up anger, but more steadfast than ever. He’d looked like he was ready to smash something with his bare hands but being the kinda peace loving man that he was, Will had instead shredded his napkin into tiny, little pieces. Millie had suggested that Matty find a therapist even though he didn’t feel that he needed one. In her own careful way, Millie had reminded him that even though he felt somewhat at peace with his past, there was no telling if it would at some point come back to haunt him.Better safe than sorry, hon,she’d smiled at him, her gentle gaze peeling away yet another layer of Matty’s protective armor.
“Thanks, Millie,” Matty whispered as he breathed in her familiar smell of lavender and coffee.
“Don’t mention it, sweetheart,” she mumbled against his ear, once again pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Releasing himself from Millie’s embrace, Matty gazed at Austin, who in return nodded at the truck. They were ready. Well, as ready as he’d ever be. As he looked around, taking in the group of people, who looked back at him fondly in return, the previous tightness eased from his chest, and he could once again breathe more freely. Whatever happened in Waco or in Eden or elsewhere, Will, Millie and Ray would be right here, waiting for them. For him. And it felt comforting. He bent down and ruffled Cassie’s soft fur while she stole a doggy kiss from him.
“You be a good girl now, Cassie,” he whispered into her warm neck. “I’ll be back real soon, girl, real soon.” His eyes burned once again, his heart swelling from the love he felt for his dog.His dog.“I love you, Cassie. You’re my best girl in the world.” He rose, wiping at his moist cheeks, while Cassie looked at him with her devoted, chestnut eyes.
“You ready?” Austin wrapped him in a tight embrace from behind.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”I’m ready.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Ethan – Now
“WELL, THIS WASthe saddest fucking meal I’ve had in a looong time,” his younger brother Reeve sighed as he pushed away from the dining table.
“Reeve! Language,” his mom scolded, a stern look directed at her youngest son. Reeve Bishop was seventeen minutes younger than his twin brother River, who right now tried to muffle a“sucker”behind his right hand. “And that goes for you, too, River. I’m just about fed up with you boys and your language around the house. And so is your father.”
“Sorry, what, hon?” his dad looked up from his Sunday paper, a slightly confused look on his prematurely wrinkled face, elaborate crow’s feet around his gentle eyes.
“Their language, Dan,” his mom repeated. “Your sons sound like they were brought up in a brothel or, even worse, in some big city.” She shook her head, while she rose from her chair. “You boys can start clearing off the table and do the dishes…” She looked in resignation at her twins.
“Mom, c’mon, we did them only just yesterday…” River whined, shooting daggers at Reeve, who looked smug. Punishments such as doing the dishes or cleaning out the chicken coop were always easier when you weren’t doing them alone, but alongside your partner-in-crime.
“Andwhydid you do them yesterday?” she raised a questioning eyebrow at River, placing her hands on her broad hips. She was still wearing her floral apron which she wore most of the day, always busy with housework.
