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Mathieu stared down at him, biting his tongue and forcing himself to listen.
“I didn’t know who he was when he and I first met and by the time I did, I saw it as a way to get back at you. And Mathieu, you hurt me so badly, I was desperate for some way to get back at you. So I used him. All he knew about me was that I was fresh off a broken heart and didn’t want anything to do with love. He and I were of the same mind. It worked out. I came to care for him very much.”
Mathieu didn’t want to hear that shit.
“I thought he cared for me too.” Win shook his head then lifted a shoulder. “But I lied to him, knowing he hated liars. I didn’t have to tell him about our connection, but I felt it needed to be done. I wanted to avoid a war between you two.”
Except that hadn’t gone as planned, had it?
He searched Win’s face. “He shared his secrets with you.”
“Yes.” Win nodded. “But his secrets aren’t only his, Mathieu. Much more is at stake than your pride and your gripe with Jairo. I won’t break his confidence and that’s not me protecting him. There are others besides Jairo who are depending on my silence and I won’t let them down.”
Fair enough. He would put it aside. For now. Mathieu still had a million questions racing around in his brain, but he sat next to Win on the bed, letting the silence surround them completely. Win didn’t look at him, he kept his gaze averted, and Mathieu couldn’t stop looking at him. He was pale after what he’d gone through, but still as beautiful as the first time Mathieu laid eyes on him, kneeling with terror in his eyes, waiting for a bullet to the brain. He’d known even then, as he saved Win’s life, that the other man would become important to him. For a while—a long time—Mathieu had treasured him, protected him, been willing to die for him. He couldn’t have fathomed that they’d end up here with so much hurt and anger between them.
“What happened to us?” he asked softly.
Win turned to him, his expression equal parts tender and heavy. “You lost the first man you ever loved, your father. And your grief didn’t leave enough space for you to hold on to me.”
Something inside Mathieu cracked at those words, spoken so calmly. So accepting. “It wasn’t right.” He was so hoarse and he couldn’t—he couldn’t contain the grief that speared him now. Grief for what he’d done to Win. To them. “It wasn’t right.”
Win made a sound. “No, it wasn’t.”
Mathieu had done some fucked-up things. Had it all been grief, though? Or had he simply used that as an easy excuse for the choices he’d made? How would he be able to tell the difference? He sat there now, everything inside him aching to have Win again—his love, his trust, his heart. But what if Mathieu did it all over again?
What if he destroyed them all over again?
24
In the weeksit took for Win to heal from the gunshot wound, he remained at Mathieu’s place. Wasn’t as if he could go anywhere else. Actually, he could. He could’ve gone to the house nobody knew existed. Could have stayed there, but he’d chosen to stay at Mathieu’s.
Didn’t mean he got to see much of his ex, though. After that initial talk they’d had regarding the truth about Win’s marriage, Mathieu had pulled away from him. The few times they saw each other, Mathieu had been preoccupied, aloof. For the most part, Win saw only Jason and the doctor, who treated him with a sullen attitude but gentle hands. Jason could never give Win a straight answer when he asked about Mathieu’s whereabouts, only sharing that the boss man was off somewhere dealing with things.
Was Jairo one of those things? Had he found Jairo? Jason had simply stared at him with a blank expression when Win voiced the questions. He’d demanded to see Mathieu, but Jason simply told him the boss would see him when he could.
Samirah had deemed Win well enough to move from the impressive medical facility into one of the bedrooms, so Jason and a couple of the other guys helped Win move in. Once he was settled, Samirah returned to give him a once-over. Win was no longer on the pain meds; not that he wasn’t in pain, but it was tolerable enough that he didn’t think the meds were a necessity, especially when they put his brain in a fog. He needed to be able to think. He remained on antibiotics, though.
“Thank you,” he told Samirah as she turned to leave. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “For taking care of me. I appreciate it.”
“He didn’t give me much choice,” she said. “He threatened my life if I didn’t fix you.”
Win pressed his lips together. “Yeah, Mathieu does that.” She was relatively new to Mathieu’s team. The doctor hadn’t been around when Win had been, but it was clear she didn’t like Mathieu. It was also clear Mathieu didn’t give a fuck about what she felt or didn’t feel for him.
Samirah glanced at the door then faced him fully. “He killed my brother.” Her lips wobbled. “And he’s keeping me here.”
Win figured it was something like that. “Who was your brother?”
“His name was Amir.” Her eyes glistened. “He—”
“Amir the accountant?” When she nodded, Win sighed. He’d known Amir, and even back then Mathieu had confided in him that Amir was skimming money off the top. Win gave Samirah a small smile. “Mathieu must really like you, otherwise you would be as dead as your brother.”
Her eyes widened and though her lips thinned, she didn’t say anything, simply turned around and walked out. Win shook his head as the door closed behind her, then he stripped out of his clothes. He desperately wanted a shower and he’d been cleared for that, so he took an extra-long one, sighing at the first splash of hot water on his skin.
He had to figure out how to proceed with Mathieu. There were so many things between them—so much good, but also a whole lot of bad. Win hadn’t allowed himself to think about what would happen if he ever walked away from Jairo.
He’d chosen Mathieu, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that the reason he’d decided to spill his secret to Jairo, knowing the consequences? Oh, he hadn’t expected Jairo to shoot him, but he’d been well aware things wouldn’t ever be the same. So had that been him choosing Mathieu?
He didn’t know.
