Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (2 page)

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

I’m standing just inside my front door, looking out at the man who is leaning on the doorframe as though he has every right to be there when in fact the opposite is true. He hasn’t changed in the slightest. His dark green eyes still penetrate every defense I have—and most of those defenses were developed to protect me from him. He still has that lock of black hair that hung down across his forehead, partly obscuring his right eye and begged for someone to reach out to push it away. If anything, he was more gorgeous than my memory recalls. And the fact that he was on my front porch did nothing to settle my nerves.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Should I be?” I ask quietly.

His smile falters and he pushes himself to a stand at his full height. “Am I to assume Leo’s team wasn’t as covert as I instructed them to be?” he asks, an edge appearing in his tone.

My eyes dart past him to where the SUV is parked in my driveway and a tall man with short, parted blond hair leaned against the vehicle wearing his usual outfit of black suit jacket, white shirt, and blue jeans. I give him a tight smile which he returns with a sympathetic one of his own. “I’m sure they did their very best to be covert,” I say, dragging my eyes to the man in front of me, “but for three years, I spent enough time looking over my shoulder that I know what it feels like when I’m being followed.”

He winces, looking sad, and I relax my posture just a little. “May I come in?” he whispers, looking straight in my eyes. “There are some things we need to discuss.”

I’m hesitant. Anyone would be in my position. My ex-husband whom I haven’t seen in five years is at my doorstep after swearing on everything he would not make contact unless something directly threatened me and my family. Allowing him inside would be allowing whatever is following him into my life as well.

On the other hand, the last thing I want to do is send him away after so long of having not seen him. I long to spend time with him, talking to him, looking at him, fighting with him. Whatever, as long as I can be reminded that our time together wasn’t an illusion.

Your son isn’t enough of a reminder?
There truly are times I hate hearing the logical side of my mind.

The only other option was to have this conversation on the front porch in full view of all the nosy, bored housewives in the neighborhood.

Yeah, that won’t be happening.

I stand aside, gesturing stiffly for him to enter. After sending Leo some sort of
hand signal, he walks past me, looking around the house in interest. I know him well enough to know he’s wondering how I could have left him for
this
and how I can possibly be happy. It’s not until he stops directly in front of a wall of photographs that I see a bit of the man I loved—
love.

Standing beside him, I know exactly what he’s looking at. It’s a picture of Tyler taken just last month, a huge grin that matches his father’s on his face. There is no possibility that there could be an identity mistake with the photo; he knows exactly at who he’s looking. Immediately, guilt floods me. It doesn’t matter
he receives updates and pictures from a mutual friend whenever he asks. It doesn’t matter that he agreed to keep his distance from us. What matters is that I’ve kept a father from his son and the two of them don’t know each other in the slightest.

“How is he?”

The question is asked so quietly and so full of emotion that it takes me several moments to form an answer. “He’s good,” I whisper, staring at the photo. “Incredibly smart, sweet, funny...” I bite my lip against the
just like his daddy
add-on. “You’d be proud of him.”

I watch all the different emotions play across his face, knowing he’s imaginin
g the years lost, knowing it’s my fault. “He’s beautiful,” he says, turning towards me. My heart stalls at the sight of his watery eyes. There is so much we need to say to one another, so much I need to apologize for, and so much he needs to explain. But a darting glance at the wall clock tells me we’ve got about an hour before Tom comes home from work and the last thing I need is for him to find our guest.

“Coffee?” I ask, breaking my gaze and heading for the kitchen.

I hear him sigh. “Sure, thank you.”

Immediately I busy myself at the coffee pot, my mind a whirlwind of activity as I take two mugs from the cabinet, measure out grounds, fill the water... I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to have this conversation, whatever it might be. I want to go back to my dull as dishwater life where I was able to predict every second of my day.

Matthew is watching my every move. It’s something I haven’t experienced in five years and in that time, I’ve forgotten what it feels like. I know he’s not missing a thing about me and suddenly I’m self-conscious. Unlike the day he met me, I’ve gone through “mom changes.” I’m not as skinny as I was the day I met him. I’ve got a few more curves, my breasts are a little bigger, my hair is shorter, and I know damn well I couldn’t pull off half the positions in bed I did when I was nineteen. Not that Tom would actually consider anything aside from missionary.

But unlike my ex-husband, who seems to have only gotten better looking with age, I’ve let my appearance fall to the wayside. I never rea
lly put much effort into it to begin with, but at least there had been
some
effort. Now I just roll out of bed, shower, throw my hair up, use the very minimal amount of makeup I can get away with, and go about my day. I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut that cost more than $15 and a mani/pedi is not a phrase used around here.

Suddenly I wish I’d ignored the ringing doorbell...

Once the coffee is brewed, I pour in my creamer, stirring a little too intently, then turn towards the table with both mugs. Matthew is standing just feet behind me and I swallow the flood of emotion at the look of longing and regret in his eyes as I hand him one. “I assume you still drink it black?” I ask, cursing myself for the wavering in my voice.

“Yes,” he says, his own voice uneven. “Thank you.”

I nod and gesture for him to have a seat. Though instinct wants me to sit as close to him as possible, I walk around the table, pretending I don’t see the disappointment that flickers through his eyes. For a few minutes, we merely stare at one another and I properly take in his appearance. The changes are so subtle I nearly miss them. Physically, he hasn’t changed a bit. He still takes care of his body religiously. His skin a little tanner than I remember. The real difference is in his eyes. When I first met him and in the years following, his eyes were always sparkling with excitement and life. Now the spark is gone, replaced with a dullness only brought on by sadness and loneliness. Without fear of playing up my importance in his life, I know I’m the cause of that and it’s just another reason why I don’t deserve him and never will.

“How are you, Sam?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sighing, I lean back in my chair, mechanically bringing my mug to my lips just to give me something to do. “I’m okay,” I tell him firmly, knowing any other answer would only rile him. Of course, we both know I’m lying, but at least he has the good grace not to call me out on it. “Why are you here?”

His jaw tightens and I know he’s biting back some annoyed retort. I don’t want chitchat. I want to know why, after five years of silence, he suddenly appears out of the woodwork, shattering our agreement. “There’s some trouble,” he finally says, his voice cold and hard. “Threats. I ignored them for as long as I could, thinking they would just go away, but that, unfortunately for all of us, is not the case.”

All the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the implications of his words. “What sorts of threats?” I ask, trying to mask my uneasiness. His eyes narrow on me and I know he’s not fooled.

“We’ve been working on acquiring a new license that will expand us across the world,” he explains briskly. “The details are top secret, but we’ve got competition. It’s a lab operating out of Italy and they’re known for getting what they want, any means necessary. I’ve been receiving subtle hints that their ‘any means necessary’ may involve going after family or those most important to us, specifically you and Ty.”

The blood has drained from my body. I left Matthew to live a quiet life and up until now, I’ve achieved it. Now he’s here to tell me I’ve been dragged right back into the line of fire even though I made it a point to sever all ties. “You’re sure it’s real?” I ask in a hopeful whisper. There were dozens of threats in the time I was married to Matthew, and the vast majority of them were nothing but hot air. Every so often a real one got through the cracks and Matthew’s security team was usually able to take care of it quietly. I never asked how they took care of it and the one time I showed curiosity, I was told I didn’t want to know. “Maybe it’s nothing...” My hopefulness slowly drains as he shakes his head just as slowly.

“Sam, I’ve spent months digging into this one and I’ve had all my best guys trying to diffuse it, but nothing we do can find the source and if we can’t find the source...” He trails off, shrugging apologetically.

I know what’s happening. Part of me hates the man sitting across from me. If not for him, I’d be happily married to my best friend in the world, we’d be living on my parents’ farm with three or four kids of our own, and I’d never have to worry about anything. There wouldn’t be any concerns about unknown threats due to bad business dealings.

Not that my life with Matthew was all bad. In fact, about ninety-nine percent of it was pretty damn incredible. Without Matthew, I’d never have Tyler. And there is nothing in this world I would trade for my baby boy. He’s my life. He’s my reason for everything. He’s the reason I have to face whatever this threat is head-on in ensure it doesn’t come anywhere near him. If anything happened to my son, I wouldn’t rest until those responsible suffered at my hand.

I know that’s why Matthew is here. Tyler is the reason he broke our agreement. He might have promised to keep out of our lives, but only on the stipulation that should something happen, if our safety was compromised for any reason, he would be right there to get us out of trouble. Of course, he’s usually the cause of the trouble, but that’s beside the point.

Feeling all the fight leave my body, I look at the man sitting across the table from me. In the time that I’ve known him, I’ve seen every side of him—happy, sad, angry, depressed, loving, romantic, challenging, determined... He could be the most amazing, sweet, frustrating man on the planet and there were times I just wanted to beat some sense into him, but he was also the only man in the world I could ever love unconditionally. He was also the only man who could incense me to the point that I couldn’t see straight, who could calm me when I’m upset with seemingly little to no effort, who could make me laugh so hard my sides hurt for hours.

But one side of him I never see, one side he never
lets
me see is the desperate vulnerable one that I know he fights to hide from everybody. Seeing it now makes me realize this isn’t some ploy to get back into our lives, like a very small part of me believed, however briefly it might have been. Matthew Young is positively terrified. And I think for the first time in our relationship I’ll have to be the one to push, to be the strong one.

“Tell me everything,” I say, unable to help my defeated tone.

His dulled green eyes shoot up to meet mine and he sighs deeply, opening his mouth to speak. “Sam, please believe me—”

I’m leaned forward on the table, debating the merits of reaching across to hold his hand. My decision is made for me when I hear the front door slam open.
Shit...

“Samantha!”

Matthew rolls his eyes at Tom’s panicked call. I purse my lips and glare at him, which only makes him smirk. “In here, Tom,” I call resignedly, not taking my eyes off Matthew. I know exactly what is going to happen once these two are in the same room. If this doesn’t end with somebody bleeding—probably Tom—I’ll be surprised.

Tom stomps into the kitchen and even though I can’t see him from where I’m sitting, I know exactly what happens: he stops dead in his tracks, his face grows red in anger, and his hands are flexing into fists. “What the fuck is
he
doing here?” he growls.

Sighing, I turn around, poised to speak, but as always, Matthew takes the opportunity to rile Tom up a bit. “Is that really any way to greet your guests?” he asks lightly. “At least Sam offered me coffee.”

I can almost hear Tom’s teeth gnashing together as he glares at Matthew. “You’re not a guest,” he spits quietly. “You’re a fucking disaster.”

“Tom, calm down,
” I say quietly. “Please sit.”

“Are you kidding me, Samantha? Five years and not a word, and all of a sudden, here he is. What’s going to happen this time, Young? Gonna break her heart again?”

I close my eyes, knowing any amusement Matthew might have gotten from his favorite game has dissipated completely. “I don’t have to explain a fucking thing to you, Saunders,” Matthew says coldly. “This is between Sam and me. Go milk a few cows.”

“Matthew!” I yell. “Both of you, knock it off! Tom,
sit down
!” Both men look at me in surprise. It’s not often I raise my voice, but when I do, I mean exactly what I say. Tom takes a seat beside me and when I glance at him, Matthew’s amusement has begun to seep back into his expression. I want to slap both of them. “Now. We’re all adults.” They each snort derisively, looking anywhere but at each other. “Tom.” I’m trying my best to keep my voice even in an attempt to calm tempers all around the table. “The reason Matthew is here is because he believes there is a threat that affects us.”