Gigi can’t know. Nor Mom, or Merc.
I kneel beside them, put my arms around them, and I’m shocked when Matt sneaks out an arm and wraps it around me.
Including me in the little circle of his family.
It shouldn’t make me want more, but it does. It shouldn’t give me hope.
But God, it does, and I should stop it right there.
We somehow make it back to the house. The two cops have some more questions for Matt, to which he has no answers, about the threatening messages and the kids and the cop handling the case—and it takes a while before I finally find out where Cole was and what his story is.
He says he heard a kitten outside the kitchen door. He went to check. Didn’t see it, but heard it from the garden. So he went to look for it.
The kitten seemed to be moving away, the mewing growing more distant, and he followed it out of the yard to the sidewalk and then into an empty plot we searched earlier, twice—and into another house yard.
Cole was very disappointed because he never saw the kitten.
“This is all my fault,” Matt says, rubbing the lines in his forehead. “He’s wanted a kitten so fucking bad, but his grandma is allergic to cats and then I wouldn’t let him have one.”
“Not your fault,” I say. Mary’s eyes are still wide, and I pull her to me, ruffle her hair. “He doesn’t know better yet.”
“I left the doors unlocked.” He sighs, watching Cole who’s playing with a toy robot, unaware he had us all in knots with fear for his life. “It won’t happen again.”
“At least it’s nothing more sinister,” Julie says, her friend cop nodding in agreement. “We’ll leave you to it, then. If any more messages show up on your door, give us a call.”
They leave, leaving us in sudden, awkward silence.
Matt’s T-shirt is rumpled, and his hair sticking out in all directions.
He rubs at his eyes, blinks owlishly at his watch. “Damn, I need to get to work.”
“After this? I’m sure you can take a day off. It’s a family emergency.”
“I punched Ross yesterday. I don’t wanna push my luck any more than I already have.”
“You punched Ross?”
He nods, the crease between his dark brows deepening. “Fucker had it coming. I’m damn sure he’s the one behind those messages.”
“You shouldn’t swear around the kids,” I whisper, because today’s too much for my mind to process.
He glances at his kids.
Mary gives him a toothy grin and goes back to drawing something in her drawing book.
“They don’t seem to notice.”
“Trust me, they do.”
He nods. “Anyway. I should get going. Cole is okay. You’re here.” He stops, a shadow passing over his gaze. “Are you staying?”
I shouldn’t. This is what I came to tell him, right?
But instead I find myself nodding. “For today. I’ll stay today.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek, tugs on his beard. He looks back at his kids, hiding his eyes from me. “That’s… great.”
“I love your kids,” I tell him. It’s the truth. “You have to find them a good nanny.”
“They already have the best nanny,” he says, and abruptly gets up to go.
Leaving me speechless and confused.
Then again, when it comes to this guy and me, what else is new?
It’s oddly soothing, being back here, in his house, playing with his kids, preparing them something to eat. The pantry and fridge need stocking, and I should tell Matt that we need to go shopping.
And stop that thought in its tracks.
Just today, I told him. Just because of the drama of Cole missing. I didn’t have the heart to abandon him, and the kids, like that.
Listen to yourself, Octavia. Abandon. You’re just his nanny. Nothing more.
He showed you last night exactly what he thinks of you. Screwed you hard, and left you without another word. This is who Matt Hansen really is.
Gigi is right. Was always right. You’re blinded by his good looks, his affection for his kids, that sexy dark vibe.
But his lack of manners and impenetrable gaze aren’t hiding a vulnerable soul, are they? That’s who he is. He won’t change.
He has changed, that annoying inner voice insists as I prepare some quick lunch. He did start to open up. There was too much crap dumped on his shoulders—nightmares, brawling with Ross, threatening messages on his door. Anyone would break.
But instead he broke you.
Oh, shut up.
Irritably I set the table. He didn’t break me. I’m not broken. Sure, I still ache between my legs, but it was good. More than good, the sex was frigging awesome, and if he doesn’t want to do it again, that’s fine with me.
Can I put it behind me? Only keep the good parts, the good memories, and erase the bad?
The shock in his eyes when he realized I’d never done it with anyone before.
The cold in his voice when he told me to go home.
God, I don’t know. What did he think I would ask of him? What did he think it meant to me?
… what did it mean to me?
I remember the heat of his body, the strength of his arms as he lifted me, the pulse beating so strong in his neck, his dark eyes so full of need.
The way he held me, and kissed me, and entered me. Not afraid to hurt me. Needing me. Letting go, letting me take his pain for a while. Giving me pleasure as he took it from me.
The way he slumped over me afterward, his face peaceful. Whispering my name.
The sex was great, but that… that moment, that realization was everything to me. That he needed me like I needed him.
No, more.
The kids bang their forks on the table and I have to stop Cole from throwing his glass right off. I pour them some grape juice, lost in thought.
Matt. I wanted to take his pain. I’d have done anything for him if he’d only asked me. If he’d let me in.
And that’s probably what he doesn’t want, what he won’t—or can’t—give me.
“Tati!” Cole bangs his fork on his plate.
Mary smiles at me with her mouth full of food.
These kids and their brute of a dad… how can I leave now?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Matt
Jasper doesn’t come near me today, and though Ross skulks around, shooting daggers my way. He doesn’t approach me, so I’m guessing Jasper is keeping an eye on him.
On both of us.
I came in expecting stupid drama and theatrics. I thought Jasper would take the excuse of me being late to tear me a new one. That he’d be waiting for me, force me to my knees and make me apologize to Ross. Kiss his boots.
Or his goddamn ass. Whatever.
But he doesn’t, and yeah, I’m grateful it hasn’t come to this, not yet anyway. I’d hate to lose this job, it pays good, but no way will I be apologizing to that freak Ross. It’s been a couple of fucking bad days, and my patience... What patience?
It’s just unexpected, that’s all. The lack of yelling and punches thrown. The goddamn quiet.