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Matty nodded, smiling weakly.
“Yeah, I guess Ethan would have told his folks. They were always close like that… Yeah… they were always good people, the Bishops,” Matty whispered.
“Look, son. I know that what happened at your house wasn’t okay. Well, it was wrong in so many ways. And I fucked up, okay? I’ll be the first one to admit that. We all fucked up back then, some more than others. Hell, if we’d all just stepped up, we could’ve perhaps put a stop to it.” Wilson’s voice was full of regret and his hands shook.
“Yeah, well…” Matty shrugged. “It doesn’t really change anything, does it?”
“I guess not, son. But I still want you to know that I’ll never forgive myself for not putting a stop to it or to at least have tried. That’s why I came here to tell you the news myself. I wanted to apologize to you face to face for all the ways we failed you.”
The kitchen grew eerily quiet after that. As if there was nothing left to say. Austin kissed Matty’s hair softly, a silent reassurance that he was not letting anyone take him away. As if it hadn’t entirely settled in Austin yet that Wilson hadn’t come to drag his boyfriend away. Suddenly, he felt a presence next to them and Millie clasped Matty’s hands in hers.
“Matty, hon, why didn’t you tell us? All this time, you carried this around all by yourself.” The older woman’s voice showed no sign of accusation, only concern and regret.
“I… I just didn’t want you to get into trouble… You know, having to lie for me if someone came looking for me.”
“Aww, honey, you know we don’t care about that. We only care aboutyou. That you’re happy. Safe.”
Matty nodded as Wilson stood from his chair, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Well, I best be going now. If you want to, I can give you an update about your mother, Matty, when I’m back home.”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be nice. Thanks.” Matty hesitated briefly. “Will I have to go back for the trial?”
“Maybe. That will be up to the district attorney. But it won’t be anytime soon.” Wilson nodded as he headed for the door. Once reaching it, he turned around, his eyes finding Matty’s across the small room. “In any case, it’s safe for you to come home now, son.”
Home.The word triggered an unprecedented feeling of protectiveness in Austin. And perhaps a little possessiveness as well if he was being completely honest with himself. Staring daggers at the well-meaning deputy who had come across the country to deliver this unpopular news, Austin cleared his throat as he pulled Matty impossibly close against him.
“Matty’s already home, Officer. That place was never his home.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Ethan – Now
“AND THIS,” AVERYpointed at the entrance to a large gallery, “is my hood.” He beamed at Ethan, exhilaration painted across his vibrant face.
It was contagious—this overwhelming passion in Avery’s delicate features—and Ethan couldn’t help grin stupidly.Art of the Americas,a sign said next to the entrance. They were at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and it was the first time that Ethan had ever been to an art museum. He’d been with his parents to several Civil War museums over the years—Dan Bishop was very interested in Civil War history even though he’d never been in the service or owned a gun in his life—so it wasn’t unusual that he dragged his wife and sons along with him on a family outing. The last one they’d been to, was the Texas Civil War Museum in Fort Worth. Ethan’s twin brothers had nearly been thrown out because they’d tried to reenact their own version of a battle or some shit like that using props from an exhibition. But an art museum… Nah…
“C’mon,” Avery held out his hand and nodded at the gallery. “Prepare to be entirely amazed and blown away by the awesomeness of Native art,” he smiled, cheeks flushed.
Looking around briefly at the busy museum, Ethan wondered if people would care that they were holding hands in public. But then again, this was the city and Avery didn’t seem to think anything of this intimate gesture. He couldn’t imagine how holding another guy’s hand in public in Eden would go down—he sure as shit had never seen two guys hold hands or show any kind of affection. Reluctantly, he reached out his hand and linked his fingers with Avery’s. It felt right.Shit,it felt so fucking right, didn’t it?
• • •
“So, where are we going now?” They’d been at the museum for a couple of hours, Avery being his tour guide, showing him the modern section first. Ethan had a hard time distinguishing the different displays and exhibitions from each other. Everything looked pretty much the same to him and time and time again, he found himself staring at Avery instead of the artwork. Avery’s lean shoulders and his slim waist. His slender, jean clad thighs and the sexy curve of his elbow.Shit. How was it that an elbow was suddenly sexy?
“The Ancient Americas,”Avery’s deep voice wrapped around him and from the way his eyes beamed, Avery might as well have saidThe Gate toParadise.“I want to show you my favorite place in Boston.” His face had suddenly taken on a solemn look, a wistful tint to his blue eyes.
“I thought this was your favorite place,” Ethan frowned, scratching his neck where a single, persistent mosquito bite remained.
Avery chuckled looking at Ethan like one would look at a small child. Not overbearing but with all the patience in the world.
“Okay, so my favorite part of my favorite place,” he smiled, brushing his lips briefly against Ethan’s chin. A waft of citrus lingered in the space between them after Avery pulled back.
Avery seemed to know this part of the gallery like the inside of his own pocket. Ethan trailed along as they passed one impressive painting after another and an endless row of glass cabinets with ancient pottery, jewelry, and crafts. Ethan felt light-headed and if it wasn’t for Avery’s firm hand clasped with his own, he would’ve lost his way, time and place fading momentarily. Avery finally stopped in front of another entrance to a section calledNative North American Art Gallery.Of course. The drawings. Avery’s numerous drawings were always inspired by the art of the Indigenous tribes of North America.
This part of the gallery was quiet, the lighting dimmed aside from small spotlights above the paintings hanging on the walls or lighting up the glass cabinets displaying artwork. A few visitors were moving around the large room in deep concentration and a sleepy-looking security guard sat in a chair by the exit. Leading him across the room, Avery came to a stop in front of a large, rather impressive painting. The piece was overwhelming, bearing resemblance to an explosion of the brightest of colors, and it was unlike anything Ethan had ever seen before.
Awe was written all over Avery’s face as if he was witnessing the second coming of Christ or the Apocalypse.
