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Win stared at him now, expression pensive, lips pressed together as Mathieu struggled to find the words to express the reasons behind his decision to put some distance between the two of them.
“I don’t want to take us back to that place,” he confessed softly. Unlike words, it was still so very easy to lose himself in Win’s eyes. To lose track of everything around them when their gazes locked. “I don’t know if I can trust myself to take care of you the way you deserve.” It hurt to say those words, to expose his vulnerability like that. To everyone else he had to be a different person—somebody in control and confident—but he’d never had to play that role for Win and right now, Mathieu didn’t even think about trying to.
Win nodded slowly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. His gaze dropped to the carpeted floor and Mathieu wanted to go to him, put a finger under his chin, and lift his head. So Win could bring his attention back where it belonged…
On Mathieu.
But he no longer had that right, did he?
“What’s going on with Jairo? Any signs of him?”
Disappointment threaded through Mathieu at the change of subject. “Uh, no. Still no signs of him, but my guys are looking.” A thought occurred to him and he cocked his head. “Do you know where he might be?” As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to accept it, Win and Jairo shared something, a connection that might not be carnal but was powerful all the same. Or it used to be until Jairo put a bullet in him. He ground his teeth at that.
“No.” Win shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Mathieu stared at him for a while. He believed the other man, but his response didn’t help them at all. He needed to figure out what the hell was happening. Win thought someone was trying to pit Jairo and Mathieu against each other, but if that was the case then what was the purpose? He and Jairo already hated each other, had been circling each other for years. So why now? And who benefited if they destroyed each other? He needed to find the answers to those questions, but he didn’t want to leave Win.
No matter how wrong he’d treated Win, it still felt right being with him like this, talking. That was why Mathieu tried to stay away. It was cruel, teasing himself with the things he wanted but could no longer have.
“I want to go to the house.”
Mathieu frowned. “What house?”
“Mine and Jairo’s. I want to see it.”
Mine and Jairo’s.It was like a punch to the gut. A hot knife sinking into his flesh then twisting. That phrase just ate Mathieu up inside and there was nothing he could do about it. “Why—” He cleared his throat. “Why do you want to see it? I can describe it perfectly…it’s a burned-out husk. Well, the room that I was in when the bomb went off, but the rest of the place isn’t much better.”
But Win just held his gaze steadily. “I want to see it.”
And of course, Mathieu couldn’t fucking say no to him—goddamn sucker that he was—so they got dressed and climbed into one of the vehicles. Jason drove them. Win sat next to Mathieu in the back seat, staring out the window, fidgeting, the tapping of his left index finger on his left knee giving away his nerves.
Mathieu smoothed a hand over Win’s, making sure not to look at him, linking their fingers. Squeezing Win gently, just to let the other man know he was there for him. He’d tried to be there for Win even when they were no longer them. He’d tried, but Win had pushed him away, using what Mathieu did as a barrier to keep him away.
Mathieu couldn’t blame him for that.
But now, Win didn’t push him away. He didn’t pull his hand from Mathieu’s. He let Mathieu hold him, let him offer silent comfort. And just that small allowance cracked Mathieu’s heart open. Broke him in two. The smallest thing but it meant so much.
He felt Win’s gasp before he heard it as they pulled up to what used to be the home Win and Jairo shared. The bomb had blown out windows and walls, leaving the guts of the structure exposed and scorch marks everywhere. Mathieu watched Win as the other man took it all in, lips parted and eyes wide. From their position as Jason pulled the vehicle to a stop, they were able to see straight through to the kitchen on the lower level, dishes and glass shattered, furniture obliterated. Upstairs was more intact, which didn’t say much when the street-facing wall was completely gone. Up there was more like an open-faced burger turned on its side when compared to the mess downstairs.
Caution tape had been put up, but it didn’t surprise Mathieu that the wreckage looked as if it hadn’t been touched by looters. The people around the area clearly knew who not to fuck with. They hadn’t touched the obviously expensive furniture and appliances that remained intact on the second floor.
Mathieu turned to Win. “Do you need anything from here? Jason can grab it for you.”
Win shook his head. “No.” His voice was soft. Too soft. And under Mathieu’s touch, he trembled. “I don’t need anything.” But he didn’t stop staring at the wrecked house. “Take me to River Lane.”
To their house. Well, what used to be their house. It was now Win’s spot where he did his forgeries. And it was a museum, a time capsule of a relationship long obliterated. Mathieu met Jason’s gaze in the rearview and nodded. He didn’t question why Win wanted to go there. The fact was, anything that had him spending more time in Win’s presence? Mathieu was down with that. So he held Win’s shaking hand as they rode to the spot, Jason taking the circuitous route to ensure they weren’t being watched or followed.
When they arrived, Win barely waited for Jason to pull into the garage before he tugged his hand away from Mathieu’s and bolted from the vehicle into the house. Jason stayed behind while Mathieu went after Win, following the sound of his running footsteps into the half bath on the first floor.
Mathieu found Win hunched over the toilet, dry heaving. “Fuck! Win.” Mathieu knelt beside him, rubbing a hand up and down his back, hating the way the other man’s body quivered. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Win looked up at him with wet eyes, face pale. “I can’t believe…” He shook his head. “A fucking bomb, Mathieu. Someone set off a bomb in my house!”
The words turned into a screech there at the end and Mathieu clenched his jaw. Right. Win was worried about the house.
“I could have lost…”.”
Mathieu kept stroking him. “Jairo is out there somewhere.” Although he couldn’t help wishing otherwise. Win stiffened under his touch but Mathieu kept going. “He’s fine, there’s no need to cry over him.” He didn’t know how Jairo had managed to earn Win’s loyalty, but that motherfucker was the luckiest man and Mathieu hated him with the fire of a million suns.
