Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (14 page)

Tom’s mouth twists in anger. “I want an answer,” he fumes. “Now.”

My brow furrows in confusion, until I realize what he’s referring to. I sigh. “I thought we agreed that we’d wait until this was over?” I ask warily.

“Well, it’s over for me,” he retorts. “So what is it, Samantha? Are you going to stay here with Young until he kicks you out again, or are you going to come h
ome, marry me, and let us be a family?”

I shake my head at him. “Tom, don’t do this right now.”

“Which is it, Samantha?” he says stubbornly.

I know immediately what my answer is and I think Tom does as well. Without either of us saying a word, I know I’ve unintentionally broken his heart. He looks at me desperately, begging me to change my mind. Shaking, I cross the room, his eyes following my every move, and reach into a dresser drawer for the ring box I’ve
been carrying with me since the night Tom proposed over a year ago. Resigned to what is about to happen, I hand the box to him, unable to look him in the eye. His breath catches in his chest and for a moment, I think he’s going to reject the ring, but with shaking fingers, he reaches out for it, the tips grazing my palm. I fight to feel something for him, digging deep. There’s nothing. He’ll always be my friend. I’ll always love him. But we both know I’ll never be
in love
with him and it’s not fair to pretend when it will only hurt us down the line.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Tom carefully places the ring box into his bag, making sure to keep it padded and safe during travel, then stands. With his bag zipped, and for what I know will be the last time, he turns to me, reaching out a hand to cup my cheek. Tears streaming down my face at the thought of losing him completely, I let him kiss me, our lips moving slowly as though he’s trying to engrain the feeling in his mind for the rest of his life.

“I should go,” he says quietly, pulling away from me, “before Young comes up to drag me out.”

I nod, allowing him to take my hand as we head down the stairs to the door. Neither Matthew nor Tyler
is anywhere to be seen, so we head outside where Leo is waiting beside the car. “Be safe,” I tell Tom quietly, wrapping my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“You too,” he whispers into my hair. “Tell Tyler goodbye for me?” I nod into his chest. “I love you, Samantha. That will never change. Please know that.”

Again, I nod. “I do.”

With one final smile, Tom heads down the stairs to get into the passenger seat of Leo’s SUV, and I watch with mixed emotions as they leave the driveway. Of course I’m sad to see Tom go. He’s been a huge part of my life for five years. He provided for Tyler and me, kept us happy as we could be, and for the most part, we never wanted for anything if he could provide it. This, though, was something I never would have believed of Tom. For him to risk the safety of me and Tyler... It’s unforgivable, but at the same time, almost understandable. What he wanted from me seemed simple enough, but I couldn’t give him that, and I always knew it. I think deep down, he did too. I can’t help but think this was his way of trying to make me his, even if the way he went about it was far from intelligent.

I’m miserable as the evening goes on. Tyler sticks to my side like glue as we eat dinner together, then watch television until it’s his bedtime. Naturally I’m distracted by thoughts of Tom: what possessed him to do what he did; where he is currently; how he is feeling. Those thoughts lead to more selfish ones: what would happen to Tyler and me once the threat was lifted. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I wouldn’t be returning to Omaha, to Tom. I suppose I could take Tyler somewhere completely new to both of us. California has always held an appeal to me... I wonder briefly about staying in New York, somewhere close to Matthew so he could have easy access to his son whenever he wants it. I’m not certain whether I could stand being so close and yet so far to him, though. Things between us have changed, and not necessarily for the better. I’d have to be blind and stupid not to notice how tense things are between us. He’s closed himself off to me in a way I didn’t know was even possible.

As I’m getting ready to tell Tyler it’s bedtime, I look behind me to find Matthew standing at the bottom of the basement staircase, watching me with a cold, determined expression in his eyes. “We need to talk,” he says quietly, his tone giving away nothing of what he might be thinking.

Hesitating, I try to force a smile on my face for Tyler’s benefit and leave him to continue watching his cartoons before joining Matthew at the stairs. Without a word, he turns and leads me through the house to his office, closing the door behind him.

“I need to know something,” he says abruptly. “And please, Samantha, don’t lie to me.”

I flinch at his use of my full name. It’s something he rarely called me, and I hate that he’s doing it now. “Okay,” I say in a small voice, my mind in a whirlwind to figure out what he might ask.

Taking a deep breath and looking as though this is the very last thing he wants to talk to me about—ever—he finally meets my gaze and I nearly buckle at the hurt and sadness in his eyes. “Did you tell Saunders that the reason we split up is because I kicked out you and Tyler?”

Oh. Fuck.
I could feign not having heard him to give myself more time to come up with an answer or I could try to deny it altogether, but he asked me—begged me—not to lie to him. “I didn’t tell him that,” I say honestly, my entire body shaking.

“But you didn’t tell him that theory was wrong?” he asks. My lack of response is enough answer for him. His eyes widen. “What the fuck, Sam! You couldn’t tell him the truth, that I gave you a fucking choice and you made the decision to leave? No fucking wonder he hates me!’

“Matt, I’m sorry!” I say loudly, my voice cracking. “I didn’t know what else to do. Letting him believe that was easier on me than the truth.”

“Why’s that?” he challenges. “Because the truth makes it your fault that we broke up? Your fault that I haven’t seen my son in five years? Your fucking fault that I lost the two best things that ever happened to me?” He fists his hands in his hair. “Christ, Sam!” His own voice cracks. “I realize I gave you the choice to stay or go, but I honestly didn’t think, not even for a second, that you’d choose the one that involved leaving me! You fucking broke me by walking out the door and I thought that with time I could get over you. I knew the entire time you went to Saunders and I really hoped you were happy, that he was taking good care of you. Even hearing updates from Claire about you and how she tried skating over the details of how sad you seemed, I convinced myself that the best thing for you and Tyler was
being with Tom Saunders in Omaha, Nebraska. And I hated him. More than anything, I hated him. Then I found out he’d proposed to you, but you hadn’t actually given him an answer. I felt something light up in me that I haven’t felt for years, but I never let myself even consider you were still mine or still in love with me.

“I hate that you and Tyler are so deeply involved in this mess. But I will not deny how fucking incredible it is to be able to see both of you...” He trails off, his jaw locked as he stares at the wall with a furrowed brow. “Leo will be back in an hour from the airport. When he gets here, he will be taking you and Tyler to Claire’s until this blows over.”
All the blood drains from my body at his words and the meaning of them. “What?” I whisper in horror.

He still doesn’t look at me. “I was planning on taking the two of you there anyway. Not so soon, but the situation is forcing my hand. I can’t concentrate with you here and I need my concentration.”

“You’re not going?” I ask.

“No,” he says quietly. “And please, don’t argue with me. It’s better this way, Samantha, and you know it. We’re walking around each other on eggshells and it’s not fair to us or to Tyler. At least there he has kids to play with and you’ll have Claire to talk to about how much of a dick I am. When this is over, I’ll do whatever I can to make the two of you comfortable. If you want to go back to your family at the farm, I’ll arrange it. If you want to go somewhere else, so be it. But this is it for us. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

I can’t do a damn thing to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks and I make no move to even try. The next thing I’m aware of is being in Matthew’s arms, sobbing into his chest and he’s murmuring comforting sounds into my hair. “I’m sorry,” I stammer over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know, baby,” he replies gently. “I know.”

Once I’ve managed to gather myself again, I pull away and let him wipe away the tears in my eyes. He then places the sweetest, kindest, saddest little kiss on my lips before I walk away from him to pack our bags for the trip to Claire’s.

I don’t see Matthew again and I can’t even bring myself to go look for him. Tyler is beyond confused and I can’t blame him; I’m confused as hell myself as I load him into the backseat of Leo’s car while he tosses my bags in the back. He gets into the driver’s seat and begins to once again head down the driveway. I glance up into the house at the window
I know to be in Matthew’s office and I can just make out his form standing there, watching us. I raise my fingers in a pathetic attempt at a wave and I swear I see him press his own fingers to his lips, then to the glass of the window, which only makes me cry harder.

As we leave through the gates, Leo hands me a handkerchief silently.

Growing up on a farm the way I did knowing exactly what to expect on any given day, though incredibly monotonous, had its upsides. The most appealing was the one where the only real drama I had to deal with was an escaped chicken that my siblings and I would have to chase around the land. The only heartbreak I suffered in the nineteen years I was there was the death of my mother. I didn’t get the chance to land myself in situations where I was in danger or leave in the middle of the night with little or no warning. I wasn’t worried about hurting the people who meant the absolute world to me and I didn’t have to wonder what it would be like to face life without them.

Tonight, though, it feels as though everything is crashing down on me. Despite my intentions to go home with Tom once this mess was over to start our lives together without the ghost of my past—the one labeled Matthew Young—hanging over us constantly, I’ve driven him away for good. Well, he helped a bit by talking to people he should
n’t have, but I’ve thoroughly destroyed any chance of us having a continued friendship let alone anything more than that. He deserves better than me, someone who can love him wholly, who isn’t constantly living in memories and daydreams, who doesn’t come with the amount of baggage I do.

Then there’s the ghost himself. I don’t know what I expected to happen when Tom left Matthew’s house, but I think I can honestly say I never believed he’d send me away. It’s deserved; I don’t know how he found out that Tom thought he kicked us out rather than the truth of me choosing to leave, but I’ve hurt him in a way only I can
. Throughout all the time I’ve known him, he tried to be as honest with me as he could whenever he could. All he ever asked from me in return was to be just as honest and to love him. For quite a while, I managed both; lately, it’s only been the latter. I should have told Tom the truth about why Matthew and I split up from the very beginning. I suppose I just hoped letting him believe Matthew ended things would hurt less in the end. I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my entire life.

One thing I never got used to when it came to life with Matthew is the way everything can go from running smoothly to feeling as though it’s
been dragged across the rockiest road in the world. My life has a way of being flipped upside down when Matthew is involved and it’s happening again. More than anything, I wish I could just talk to Matthew, try to explain the reasoning for why I did what I did; the problem is that I’m not certain I could manage to get through that conversation without breaking completely. Perhaps when all this is done and over he’ll give me the chance to speak, to make this up to him. If he doesn’t hate me, that is.

An hour into the drive to Claire’s, my tears have dried, leaving me feeling empty. There’s no guilt, no misery, no sadness. Just emptiness. Tyler is fast asleep in the backseat and Leo is concentrating hard on the road.

“Why is he doing this?” I ask bleakly into the dark.

I hear Leo sigh heavily as we both stare out the front window. “He needs distance, Sam,” he says very quietly after several long moments. “He’s getting far too involved—again. He needs some time to reevaluate what’s happening and he can’t do that with you around.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask cluelessly.

He shoots me a sideward glance. “It means he’s so deeply in love with you that he can barely fucking function—” He breaks off, looking into the rearview mirror at Tyler who continues to sleep soundly. “Sorry. Anyway, he can barely function and he can’t think, because he’s trying to figure out a way to fix all this and still keep you in his life. Now he’s realizing that may not be a possibility, especially after what happened with Saunders.” His hands tense briefly on the steering wheel as he debates on what to say next. “Why didn’t you just tell Saunders what really went on with you and Matt? You m
ade him look like a monster just to give yourself a chance at being happy?”

“That’s not what happened,” I argue, trying not to raise my voice too loudly. “You think it was easy for me to leave Matt after everything that happened with us to go back to
Nebraska
? Two seconds after I made that ridiculous decision, I wanted to take it back. But he’d already started closing himself off from me and I didn’t know how to change that.”

Leo glances at me again, sympathy in his gaze. “So let me ask you this,” he says slowly. “If he had asked you to change your mind, would you have?”

“In a heartbeat,” I say emphatically. “And that’s what sort of sealed the deal for me: he didn’t ask. All he did was make arrangements for Tyler and me to fly home. He didn’t even say goodbye before you took me to the airport, not a single word, and two weeks later, I get paperwork that says we’re divorced. Honestly, Leo, there have been times that I’ve truly believed that he used that as a reason to cut his ties with us. I mean, I know he was in love with me, and I know Ty was his life, but maybe that wasn’t enough...”

“That wasn’t it,” Leo says grimly. I expect him to go on, but he doesn’t. We’re silent for several minutes and I look outside, realizing we’re getting closer to Claire’s. We should be pulling into the driveway within twenty minutes. “Look, I’ll talk to Matt. Clearly the two of you have a lot to discuss and clear up. He’s worried right now, Sam. Please understand that everything he’s doing is done with your and Tyler’s best interest in mind. Ask Claire; he’s spent the last five years talking about the two of you every chance he got to anyone who would listen. There’s no lack of love involved in this shit. Just trust me on that.”

I nod silently and by the time we turn into the long driveway that leads to Claire’s home, I’m feeling slightly better. Of course this could be due in part by the fact that I’m seeing one of my best friends for the first time in far too long. I never considered myself the type to need the support of other women when I was having trouble personally, not even in school, but since I met Claire, that all changed. Leo pulls right up to the garage and we immediately see the tiny amber light of a cigarette on the porch.

“I take it she was warned of our imminent arrival?” I ask wryly.

Leo only chuckles as he shuts off the car and we both climb out to meet Claire. Of all his sisters, Claire is the one who looks and acts most like Matthew. Perhaps because she’s the youngest and latched onto him at a young age rather than chasing her sisters in their dress-up and makeup endeavors. She’s always been very no nonsense, call-it-like-she-sees-it, and doesn’t give a shit what other people think type of woman. She’s exactly what I need right now. Given that it’s nearing 10PM, she’s understandably dressed for bed in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and big gray hooded sweatshirt, her long brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and makes no apologies for looking as comfortable as she does. Since I last saw her, she seems to have acquired new glasses—blue plastic rims surround her eyes that match her brother’s perfectly.

“About damn time,” she calls out into the dark, stabbing her cigarette out as she stands. “Another ten minutes and you two would have been sleeping on the porch.”

I smile widely, knowing she means no such thing, and immediately move to meet her on the sidewalk, embracing her tightly.

“Good to see you too,” she says quietly, rubbing my back as the tears arrive again. “Where’s the little one?”

Leo removes our bags from the car and I retrieve Tyler, giving Claire a few moments to rub his back and muse about how much he looks like Matthew.

“Hanging around?” she asks Leo once we’re all sorted.

He shakes his head. “Gotta get back,” he says regretfully. “Sam, let me know if you need anything.”

I nod. “Thanks, Leo,” I say quietly, waving as he pulls out of the driveway. For the first time since Matthew showed up on my doorstep only a week ago, I feel lonely, even though I know I’m anything but.

“Hey,” Claire says gently. “Let’s get him inside,” she gestures at Tyler, “then we’ll open a bottle of wine, sit on the back porch, and talk until the sun comes up. Yeah?”

I smile. “Yeah,” I agree in a whisper.

We get Tyler settled in with his cousins and Claire wastes no time dragging me back through the house where we grab a bottle of wine on our way to the back deck. I note she didn’t grab glasses. Apparently this is a straight-from-the-bottle night. Works for me...

“Start talking,” Claire tells me the moment we’re in chairs. She takes a deep swig of wine, then passes it to me. I take several long swallows before telling her everything that’s been happening—Matthew showing up on my doorstep, the threat against us due to his business dealings, the man outside the house on the night we left, every single detail of the last week and a half. By the time I finish, I look over at Claire and find her in a state I’ve never seen her: Speechless.

“
Tom proposed?”
she asks incredulously.

I roll my eyes. “Is that seriously the only thing you can concentrate on?” I ask
irritably, reaching for the wine bottle again that’s now only about half full.

“Well, no, but it’s the one I should have been informed about, but never was,” she retorts accusingly. “Why the hell wasn’t I told about this?”

It doesn’t take much thought to come up with an answer for this question: I knew if I told her, she’d tell Matthew, regardless of any friendship loyalty towards me. That, and I think I’ve been hoping deep down that if I didn’t acknowledge it to anyone else, it might go away. And I’m pretty sure that makes me the worst person on the planet. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing I can come up with as a response.

The accusation in her eyes gives way to understanding; much like her brother, Claire can read me like a book. She reaches over to grasp my hand tightly in her own. “It’s okay,” she says quietly. “As for the rest...” She shakes her head slowly, looking out over the railing of the deck. “I love my big brother, Sammy. I really do, but he can be such a moron at times. What really kills me about this is how he’s spent the last five fucking years pining for you and the second you’re back, he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible. And I think I get he’s doing it because of your relationship with Tom, whatever that might be right now, but to foist you off on me...”

I raise my eyebrow, my lips twitching. “Foisted, huh?” I say evenly. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

“Oh, shut up,” she chides, shooting me a grin. “You know what I mean. And Tom. I can’t say I was ever his biggest fan, but I never thought he’d stoop so low. Do you think he did it on purpose?”

I roll my eyes. “Tom is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. Of course he knew what he was doing. I think he hoped that by talking to whoever he was talking to, it would make it so Matthew decided it would be better to send us back home or something. Just goes to show what little he knows about Matt.”

Claire nods thoughtfully, and even through the dark, I can see her narrowing her eyes on me. “Why didn’t you tell Tom what really happened with you and Matty?” she asks softly.

I feel my eyes burning, once again wishing more than anything I’d been brave enough to face the truth. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Part of me was afraid if I told him what really happened he might turn me away, because it would be blindingly obvious that I’m still in love with Matt. That same part didn’t want to dwell on it; I was miserable as it was and I didn’t need to add to my trouble. It was easier letting Tom believe what he did about Matt—selfish, I know, but I didn’t know another way. Not to mention until very recently Tom didn’t know what Matt does for a living and it was safer all around for him to not know.”

“That I understand,” Claire says, nodding slowly again.

“The worst part about it, Claire,” I say thickly, “was the look on his face when I couldn’t deny what I let Tom believe about him. He didn’t come to say goodbye to me or Ty before we left. He was so hurt, Claire, so disappointed and I feel like he hates me now.”

As my watering eyes turn into full-blown sobs, I feel Claire moving over to sit beside me on my lounger, pulling me to her. “Enough of that,” she chides, her tone the same one she uses with her children. “Think about this rationally, love. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but Matt is still head over heels for you. I don’t think that can ever change, no matter what you do. If he hated you, or even if he simply didn’t care about you, why would he bother getting you, Ty, and Tom to safety? And don’t give me the ‘because of his son’ line. He’s crazy about you.”

I want to argue. I want to ask her why, if Matthew was so in love with me, he never attempted to contact me or his son. Of course, I know the answer is that he was respecting my wishes and our agreement.

“Every single time we’ve spoken over the last five years,” Claire goes on quietly, “he’s asked about you. Wanted to know how you were, if you seemed happy, whether you might miss him. He wanted to know every little detail about Tyler. I can’t confirm this, but I got the feeling a couple years ago that he was keeping an eye on you personally—flying out to Omaha just to catch a glimpse of you. More than anything, I think, he wanted to get you back, but whenever he saw you, you seemed so content that he left you be.”

I’m staring at Claire in shock. Matthew had been, for lack of a better word, stalking me all this time?

She sighs. “I don’t know all the details of what happened with you two. I know enough, though, to know there is still a whole lot of residual feeling between you, not to mention
a disgusting amount of unresolved sexual tension that makes me gag.” I blush at her words; she ignores me. “And you know I’m not the gushy, lovey-dovey, swooning romancer, but I’ve always believed the two of you were meant for each other.”