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Now that Mathieu knew the truth, he was keeping his distance. Part of Win didn’t even blame him for it.
Done with the shower, he made his way back into the bedroom and got dressed in underwear and an undershirt before climbing into the bed. Damn. The shower had worn him out. He stared up at the ceiling. He should have Mathieu take him to his house—the house he’d shared with Jairo. Win wanted to see the damage. He didn’t have anything of value in the house, only clothes and some electronics. He kept anything valuable, anything he couldn’t bear to lose, at the house where he did his forgeries.
The house on River Lane he once shared with Mathieu.
He sat up and swung his legs off the bed, getting to his feet. The last time he’d physically laid eyes on Mathieu had been almost three days ago. That was long enough. He was done waiting for Mathieu to come to him. He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats and made his way out of the bedroom on socked feet. He was on the same floor as Mathieu’s bedroom, he discovered as he walked down the hallway. As he drew closer to Mathieu’s room, he spotted Jason and another of the guards outside the door.
The other guy spotted Win first. “He’s busy,” he said before Win even spoke.
Jason glanced over his shoulder, watching in silence.
Once he stood in front of them, Win asked. “Where’s Mathieu?”
The one he didn’t know jerked his chin in the direction of the bedroom. “But he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
Too bad. “I need to see him.” He stepped toward the door and the guy moved in front of him, blocking his path. Win blinked at him.
“I need to let him know—”
“You don’t need to do shit except move out of my way,” Win told him coolly. “Now.” The guy glanced over Win’s head, probably looking to Jason for help. “Don’t look at him, look at me and do as I say; move out of my way.” His anger was aimed at Mathieu, not this guy, but he couldn’t seem to rein it in.
The bedroom door opened and the guard spun around.
“Sir—”
Mathieu didn’t spare him a glance; his gaze locked on Win, who was trying not to swallow his tongue. Mathieu was shirtless and clad only in jeans, the top button undone. And bare feet. How could Win have forgotten the way the other man looked when naked? How could he have forgotten the muscles and all that smooth skin? The light furring on his chest? The scar on his abdomen from a knife wound he’d received before the two of them had even met. Win had spent countless nights running his tongue over that scar.
“Get lost,” Mathieu barked. He didn’t specify who he was talking to, but Win knew it wasn’t him. Could never be him.
Win stepped past the guy, ignoring Jason’s chuckle and pushing past Mathieu into the bedroom. He stood waiting with his back to Mathieu, turning only when he heard the door close behind him. He faced Mathieu then. “You’ve been keeping your distance from me.”
Mathieu made a sound. “I’ve been busy.” He didn’t look at Win as he walked by and dropped into an armchair, crossing his legs.
Win fisted his hands at his sides. “Too busy for me?” He didn’t do a good job of hiding the hurt in his voice and Mathieu’s gaze settled on him as Win sank into the chair opposite him.
“You needed to heal.” Mathieu searched his face.
“And what about you? Your head?” He dipped his gaze to Mathieu’s legs. “Your legs, are you healed?”
“I’m fine.” Mathieu stared at him. “What do you want, Win?”
“I want to know what you’re doing about Jairo. And I want to know why you decided to wait until I’m back under your roof to start ignoring me again.”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m aware of every move you make, everything you do.”
Win swallowed. “But you can’t come see me?” He didn’t like the way he sounded—so much like the neglected lover when that wasn’t who he was at all. Mathieu’s gaze pinned him in place and made heat rise to the surface of his skin. “Now that you know the truth about my marriage you can’t stand to be close to me anymore?”
Mathieu cocked his head. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked, tone mild. “For me to leave you alone?”
“I want you to tell me the truth.” Win licked his lips and Mathieu’s gaze followed the act. Win’s belly tightened in response. ”I want you to share what’s on your mind, what’s got you running scared.” Even though he might not have the right anymore. Even if they were no longer who they once were.
Mathieu simply watched him for a long time, expression tight, jaw ticking. Win didn’t move, didn’t look away. He didn’t know what he was looking for, not really, but he figured he’d identify it when he saw it.
“I stay away because the truth you shared only makes me want you more,” Mathieu finally said. His voice was deep, rumbling. “I stay away because I don’t know what you want. And I stay away because I don’t know if I have any right to want what we used to have. Not after what I’ve done to you. I can’t be sure I won’t hurt you again.” He paused. “I can’t—” Anguish softened his words. “I can’t let myself hurt you again, Win.”
25
Mathieu rememberedwhen words used to come easily whenever he spoke to Win. Now, not so much. He’d ripped that away from them and Mathieu would go to his grave riddled with regrets, bemoaning the what-ifs.
