Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (16 page)

I silently agree, despite understanding Matthew’s reasoning for doing what he did and how he did it. He never handled being emotionally hurt very well, preferring to hide behind his playful, frat boy side. It was one of the very first problems we dealt with after becoming a couple. He’d rather bottle up everything than burden someone else with his troubles.

After the kids have their fill of pizza and trade in all the tickets they won from the games, we decide to call it a night. Halfway back to the house, all four of them are fast asleep, each one cuddling whichever toy they chose—Gabe got a yo-yo; Olly a toy gun
that makes obnoxious noises when the trigger is pulled that Claire is already plotting to hide; Abby got a teddy bear; and Tyler got the crème de la crème of prizes: a Batman watch. I don’t think any child has been so happy to get a watch when they can still barely tell time, and his excitement was contagious until he told me he wanted to show it to Matthew. Claire looked at me in concern; I shook my head, forced a smile on my face, and changed the subject.

We pull into the driveway and start grabbing children out of the backseat. Danny takes a twin in each arm while Claire and I grab Abby and Ty. There’s a bit of fumbling for house keys when we reach the door that has Claire and me giggling quietly as we enter. It only takes us a few steps inside to realize something isn’t right. There’s a breeze coming from the kitchen that shouldn’t be there—Claire is anal about making sure all doors and windows are closed and locked before leaving for any amount of time that I’m sure she gained from her brother’s urging
and nagging.

Danny somehow manages to set the twins on the floor without them waking—they curl up with each other and continue on as they were—motions for Claire and me to stay put while he looks around. For several very long, tense minutes we stand in silence, our minds whirling. Was there a break-in? If so, why? My mind immediately answers the question: Because of Matthew.

We hear Danny begin talking and a moment later he’s returning to us, and we deduce that he’s called the police because there has indeed been a break-in. I’m taking a wild guess that Danny doesn’t believe there’s anyone still in the house, since he’s not urging us back
out
the house.

The next few hours are a blur. We set
the children in a makeshift nest of blankets and pillows in Danny’s downstairs office, after checking it thoroughly, and once the police arrive, set off through the house to check whether anything is amiss. It is quickly determined the intruder came in through the backdoor in the kitchen and seemed to have used a crowbar to pry it open. Nothing seems out of place that we can find—all of Claire’s jewelry is left untouched, the television and computers are where they should be. The only room in which anything was disturbed is mine. My clothes are strewn across the room as though someone had been digging through them. Books were tossed haphazardly on the floor. Even my photo album wasn’t immune to searching.

“Holy shit,” Claire breathes when she joins me at the open bedroom door.

“Yeah,” I mutter weakly, feeling sick to my stomach all of a sudden.

Given the fact that my room seemed the target for the intruder, the police aim their questions to me. We manage to deflect the one about whether there would be any reason for somebody to do this, knowing Matthew would have all our asses on a platter if we told anybody about his job or the things that go along with it. Even the police. While I was being questioned, with Danny at my side as my legal counsel—not that the police were aware of this—I know Claire was on the phone trying to reach Matthew. Hours later, the kids are tucked in bed, and Claire, Danny, and I are in the kitchen staring at one another in disbelief.

“Did you talk to him?” I ask Claire quietly.

“No.” She doesn’t even ask who I’m referring to. “But I got a hold of one of his security guys—not Leo, but they’ll get the message soon. I swear, I’m going to kill Matt for this.”

Danny runs his hands across his face tiredly. “Sweetie, this isn’t his fault,” he says wearily. “It’s not like he sent people to break into our home.”

“He brought this to our doorstep, Danny!” Claire responds heatedly. “It doesn’t matter what he does; he always manages to involve innocent people whenever there’s trouble.” Knowing Claire as I do, she’s not one to get scared very often, and when she does, she prefers to hide her fear behind something a little easier to handle, usually anger. “What if we’d been here?” And now we’ve reached the issue that’s really bothering her.

“We weren’t,” Danny says firmly, taking her hand in his. “Don’t concern yourself with what-ifs. It’ll drive you crazy.” He looks between Claire and me. “Look, the police are going to keep a lookout all night for us. Let’s just get some sleep and this will all seem better in the morning.”

Neither of us really agrees with his statement, but we’re also not going to argue. It’s been a horribly long evening and even though I doubt I’ll be sleeping much tonight, the thought of lying in bed surrounded by darkness will give me time to collect my thoughts. As quickly as I can, without thinking much about
why
I’m doing it, I clean up the mess left behind by the intruders. I don’t know why they felt it necessary to go through my things and nobody else’s. I’m no master criminal, but even I know if they’d made it look as though the rest of the house had been gone through we might have some uncertainty as to who might have been behind it.

Naturally, I feel violated knowing somebody was going through my things, and though I’d never voice it aloud to Claire, I feel uncomfortable being her. Without Matthew, I feel exposed and vulnerable, which I’m sure is typical after a break-in, but even with police presence and at least one member of Matt’s security team that’s been following us around since Ty and I got here, I feel unsafe. Almost on reflex, I feel myself leaving the bedroom and heading down the hall to where Tyler is sharing a bedroom with the twins. All three boys are sleeping peacefully, thankfully undisturbed and unaware of the evening’s events.

For several minutes, I watch my son sleeping and think about several alternative scenarios of hour our lives could have turned out. We could have stayed with Matthew to begin with. Perhaps he would have followed through on his thought to leave behind the danger of his current job for one in which I wouldn’t have to worry about whether he’d even come home at night. I don’t think I could ever force him into a normal job. He’d be miserable and end up resenting me for it down the line. He could have stuck with his job and for all I know, we could have remained incredibly happy until now. Of course I could have stayed with Tom, gotten remarried, and we could have several children together, and we could also be incredibly happy. Again, though, there would be resentment. It would be utterly unfair, but I have no doubt that I would have started resenting Tom because he wasn’t Matthew. I realize there is a common theme when it comes to my probability of happiness and I also realize that common theme hasn’t even made contact with us since the break-in.

The Matthew Young I know would have rushed through Claire’s front door and pulled me into his arms and held me so tightly it would hurt, but I wouldn’t have complained, especially when he was murmuring comforting words into my hair.
So where is he? Have recent events been enough for him to wipe his hands clean of me altogether? The very thought forces me to stifle a sob and I hate myself and the situation, and have to wonder what else has happened over the years that he has changed so drastically.

Resolving to call him whether he wants to hear from me or not, I force myself to leave Tyler’s side and return to my bed. Despite having no delusions of actually getting a full night’s sleep, I fall into bed and do my best to get comfortable, and to my surprise, I actually manage to fall asleep within the hour.

-------------o-------------

When I wake, I have no idea what the time is or what woke me other than the feeling of being watched. I don’t even open my eyes, knowing it’s only my residual paranoia from what happened tonight. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t get comfortable and the feeling only gets stronger. There’s a slight shifting beside my bed and I freeze, my eyes flying wide open and my heart racing. I’m not alone. I want to call out for help, but no matter who I call for, help won’t arrive before it’s too late.

Terrified, I slowly roll onto my back and make out a shadowed figure sitting at my bedside in a desk chair. The figure is hunched, elbows resting on knees, hands clasped, fingers interlocked, but I can feel the gaze locked on me. It only takes an instant before my terror turns to relief.

“Matt?” I whisper into the dark.

“Hey, Sammy,” he whispers back. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I roll my eyes, knowing he can’t see me. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have been sitting here staring at me. How long have you been here?”

I can vaguely see him shrug. “An hour or so. And I like staring at you. I’m pretty sure we’ve had this discussion several times over the years.”

He’s trying to break the tension with humor. And I hate that it’s working. “Doesn’t make it any less creepy,” I reply grumpily. “What are you doing here?”

Sitting straight up, I can feel rather than see Matthew getting annoyed. “Why do you think I’m here?” he says with strained patience. “I needed to see you. Make sure you’re all right. Make sure Tyler’s all right...” He sighs. “Are you all right?”

“Never better,” I mutter sarcastically. “Claire’s pissed at you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, wincing. “She met me in the driveway and gave me the what-for. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up. Then again, it might have only sounded like shouting to me. I’d ask where she learned such foul language, but I suspect it was from me.” I crack a smile. “You don’t see pleased to see me.”

“Should I be?” I retort, feeling a sense of déjà vu from the afternoon he showed up on my doorstep in Omaha. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m pleased to see you, Matt. I really am, I just thought...”

“What?” he says, his voice barely above a breath. “What did you think, Sam?”

Annoyingly, I feel my eyes tearing up again and let out a sniffle. Before I can even blink, I feel the mattress shifting as Matthew sits down beside me. “I thought you’d be here hours ago,” I say, surprised that my own voice is so even. Not to mention the annoyance of his sudden appearance after days of having not heard a word from him. “Claire tried to call you. I was going to call you in the morning. You can’t tell me you didn’t know what happened.”

“I actually didn’t know what happened until a few hours ago,” he says quietly, his hand hesitantly resting his hand on my knee. Even through the thick blanket, I can feel the warmth. “My phone’s been turned off for the last couple days and I haven’t really bothered checking my messages. Leo got the call and pulled me away from my packing to tell me what happened. We left straight away.”

My brow furrows at his words. I can’t remember the last time he turned his phone off for anything—on our honeymoon, I practically begged him to shut it off so we could have a peaceful dinner together and it took an argument for him to finally agree. Even when Tyler was first born, he refused to do anything more than set it to vibrate. The number of times I’ve wanted to take his phone and run it over with a car tire... But something else catches my attention. “Packing?” I repeat. “Packing for what?”

He shifts so that one leg is on the bed, the foot tucked under the leg on the floor. “I’m heading to Italy in the morning,” he states quietly. “I’ve got a business meeting.”

Dread settles in my stomach. “What sort of business meeting?” I ask hesitantly.

He looks away briefly at the window and though I still can’t quite see him, I know his brow is furrowed and he’s frowning. He’s debating with himself on whether to tell me. “I’ve decided to sell the chip,” he says carefully. “This has gone too far and it’s not worth the hassle anymore. It’s bad enough I’ve dragged you and Tyler into this, effectively ruining your relationship with Tom, which truly wasn’t my intention, and now it’s at my sister’s doorstep. I can’t put any of you through this for much longer.”

“Who are you selling to?” I demand. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to; I know exactly what he has planned. “Matt, you can’t do that. You can’t really be considering selling to these people.”

“It’s not really your choice,” he says coolly. “I’m not selling to the people threatening us; I’m selling to a respectable Italian company that, unlike these people, is completely legit. As proud as I am of this little chip and as much as I wanted to see it do great things, I can’t risk my family’s safety anymore. Once it’s out of my hands, we can all move on.”

I swallow hard, wanting to ask what he means, but not really wanting the answer. Especially if “we can all move on” involves us once again parting ways. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” I notice aloud. He’s not looking anywhere near me and I know him well enough to know the signs that he’s worried.

Standing suddenly, his hands fist in his hair and he starts pacing. I sit up slowly in bed, crossing my legs to watch him make several passes across the room. "There's been a leak. Someone in my organization has been speaking with our foreign friends, passing along necessary information. For example, only a handful of people knew that you and Tyler would be coming here when you did. Claire didn't even know until half an hour before your arrival." I look at him in surprise; there had been no indication on Claire's part that she hadn't had advanced knowledge of our impending arrival, and she never let on otherwise. "I asked her to act as though this had been the plan all along, nothing out of the ordinary. At the time, I had a suspicion that these people were somehow gaining inside knowledge, but I had no idea it went this deep."