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I ring again, and the moment the door opens, I know something is seriously off.
Matt stares at me as if he can’t remember who I am. It makes me want to cry. Makes me want to pummel my fists on his muscular chest that’s bare and spectacular, the dark tattoos winding over powerful muscles, over his defined pecs and strong ribcage and the bulging biceps in his arms.
Makes me want to hug him.
But he only mutters something I can’t make out under his breath and steps aside, letting me in.
We have to talk. He has to tell me what’s on his mind. I have a feeling he’s holding himself responsible for what happened to me, and I can’t let him do that. The psycho who grabbed me isn’t Matt’s responsibility. He doesn’t need another cross to bear.
And I need to know if this is what it is, this distance between us, or if he’s changed his mind. If he decided this was it between us, some sex, some intense moments, and then nothing.
No good morning, no how are you today? No smile for me, and no emotion in his dark eyes.
It’s unbelievable how much it hurts. How much it scares me—even more than the attack. The attack was like a natural disaster, it hit me and was gone, but this… This will leave a scar.
“Matt.” He’s already walking away from me, toward the kitchen, and I follow his hulking form, adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder, my heart hammering. “Wait.”
He’s banging through cupboards, obviously looking for something.
He stops, slams his fist on the counter, and I flinch. Jesus, this guy’s strong. The counter creaks under his hand. “What?”
I ignore the way my eyes sting at his tone, ignore the voice that keeps whispering at the back of my mind that it’s as I feared, that he changed his mind, if he ever wanted it, which isn’t a given… that like Jasper he banged me and wants nothing more to do with me, that his show of protectiveness and affection was an illusion, a momentary thing, there and then gone.
I ignore it all, and step closer. “Are you all right?”
A shiver goes through his big frame. He braces his hands on the edge of the counter, hangs his head, dark hair falling in his eyes. “Leave it, Tay.”
But I can’t. Not when he calls me that, when his voice almost breaks on the sound. He can’t hide from me. Can’t hide the pain radiating from his stance, his voice, the tight curl of his muscles.
Even if it has nothing to do with me.
“Talk to me,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “I’m here. I’m right here, Matt.”
“Not forever,” he mutters, a quiet rumble, and the crack in his voice, in him, is more obvious than ever.
“But now is what matters. Don’t waste it.”
He glances at me from under the tumble of his dark hair, and where his gaze had seemed empty and void of emotion before, it’s burning. “What do you know—? Christ, Tay. That asshole grabbed you, he fucking hurt you.”
“I’m fine. Just a scratch.”
“Because of me. You should… you should find another job, Tay.”
“Are you firing me?” I stare at him, open-mouthed.
“Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He shakes his head. “I just need you to be safe. I’m fucking tired of dreaming I got you killed.”
So that’s what it is.
I reach for him, and he doesn’t move, letting me place my hand on his rock-hard back. “Why would any of this be your fault? I thought we agreed the guy is a psycho.”
A sigh rumbles through his chest. “There’s something I have to tell you.” He’s still hunched over, not turning to meet my gaze. “It’s about my past. I just… I pieced together what the messages were saying. I fathered a child before.”
My hand drops off his back as I take a step back. “A child?”
What is he saying?
“There was this girl I dated when I was seventeen, at school. We slept together a few times. Then I left to Milwaukee, and never saw her again. Never heard from her again, either. But it turns out I got her pregnant before I left.”
