Shaw stared at the space where North had stood before he had turned and stumbled down the stairs, but Shaw wasn’t really seeing anything. He was feeling. He was processing. And a voice that sounded like Dr. Farr’s—but with a static storm in the background, like the voice was playing off an old cassette—that voice was saying something about how it took time to process huge emotions. It took time, and so Shaw needed to give himself time just to feel. And the problem with that, the problem that made Shaw look around the room, the problem that made him stagger toward the dresser, the problem that made him grab the closest copy of Faust and rip clumps of pages from the binding as his breath surged in and out, the problem was that Shaw felt so terrible, he thought he might die.
Most of the conversation with North had been transcribed in Shaw’s brain like strokes of lightning: jaggedly clear chunks, and then whole sections that had been obliterated. What he remembered clearly, what he remembered most clearly, was the disgust on North’s face, the contempt in his voice, the word pathetic. Shaw had feared that North might suspect. Shaw had feared that North might pity him. But this, tonight, staring into the full aspect of North’s scorn, had been worse than anything Shaw could have imagined.
It wasn’t until his fingers scraped across the book’s cover that Shaw realized he had torn every page from the spine, that they littered the floor like autumn leaves. Shaw’s nail beds ached from the pressure of grabbing the pages. His pulse drummed in his fingertips. Shuffling through the spill of white leaves, which rustled around his feet, Shaw followed the hallway toward the living room. He pushed open the door.
Matty’s eyes were red and puffy. Tears streaked his cheeks, and snot hung under his nose. He shot up off the couch when he saw Shaw.
“Stay there,” Shaw said. He worked his jaw, trying to get some moisture into his mouth. “For now, just stay right there.”
“I’ll leave,” Matty said, his face turned toward his feet, his voice rippling with emotion. “I’ll go away and I won’t bother you again.”
“Is he telling the truth?”
Matty’s shoulders drew up. Shaw waited for the denial. He waited for the mixture of outrage and pain. He waited for The fact that you can even ask that. And if Matty said anything like that, if he even hinted at those things, Shaw was afraid of what he might do. Because North was an asshole. North was a self-righteous, arrogant, gaping, bleeding gorge of an asshole. But he wasn’t a liar. Not unless it came to his own secrets.
Matty nodded, and a sob worked his way out before he stifled it with a fist. “Can I please go now?”
For a moment, Shaw braced himself in the doorway. He felt like he was holding up the whole building. Or maybe like the building was holding him. He wasn’t sure he understood gravity, only that he felt it pulling on him like it never had before. The only thing he could say was, “Why?”
“Because I can’t stand you looking at me like that. I can’t stand that I—that I hurt you. And I can’t stand that you know.” Matty’s mouth opened and closed silently. “That you know who I really am.”
“Why did you come here? Why did you hire me?”
Matty broke into motion, his long legs carrying him across the room, and he turned his shoulder like a battering ram. Shaw shoved him back. Then he shoved him again. And a third time. He wanted to hit Matty, he wanted to bury Matty’s face under his fists. He wanted to kiss away the tears.
Matty wiped his eyes. He tried to charge past Shaw again, and again Shaw shoved him. This time, Matty landed on the couch.
“Answer the question. Why me? Why did you come here? Was he right? Was I just an easy mark for you to—” Shaw couldn’t finish. He didn’t even know if words went all the way to what he wanted to say.
“I told you the truth. I came here because Mark Sevcik was blackmailing me.”
“That’s not what you told me.”
Another silent sob shook Matty, and he wiped his face. “I told you—I told you the rest of it because I was afraid you wouldn’t help me.”
“It’s a business. All you had to do was pay and we would have helped you.”
“Would you have?” Matty’s head came up. His eyes glittered—hard, wary eyes now. Eyes that Shaw had never seen in the churchboy facade. “North didn’t want to take the case. It’s blackmail, and it’s messy, and it meant getting tangled in a police investigation. If I came to you, if I told you all of it—if I told you I used to hustle, if I told you I’d been in and out of prison, if I told you the truth, would you have taken the case? Or would you have thought what most people think: that I deserve this, that I deserve to be blackmailed because I was a whore, because I made bad decisions when I was a kid, because I didn’t have anybody to help me and I was hungry and it didn’t seem like a big deal to suck a few cocks if it meant I’d have dinner and a place to sleep.”
Shaw covered his eyes. He couldn’t breathe, and then, after air finally rushed into his lungs, he managed to say, “I guess we’ll never know.”
“I know. I already know. You wouldn’t have taken the case. And Mark would have kept me on a leash the way he had for the last three months. If I didn’t do the dishes. If I talked back. If I went for a walk without telling him where I was going. Anything he didn’t like, he’d wave that fucking recording in my face and ask me if I wanted to go back to prison. He’d ask me if I liked being passed around like a fucking cum rag.” Matty dashed both hands under his eyes. “You know what? I finally decided it didn’t matter. Another six months in prison, another year, I’d do it if I had to. Just to get away from him. But I thought maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have to do that. Maybe somebody would help me.”
Peeling his hands away from his eyes, Shaw asked, “What’s on the recording?”
Matty gave a slow shake of his head.
“Did you kill him?”
“He’s really dead? I heard North say that, but I didn’t—” Tension eased in Matty’s slender frame, and he hugged himself. “I didn’t really think it was true. I hoped it was, Jesus, but I didn’t really think.”
“Did you kill him?”
“What? No. You said that other person, Regina, you said—”
“Where were you last night?”
“With you.”
“All last night. Before that.”
After a moment, Matty said, “I was here. I called you from here, didn’t I?”
Shaw nodded.
“Then I went home. Then those guys tried to break in, and—”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why were guys following you? Why were people breaking into your apartment? Or was that all bullshit too?”
“Mark has videos on everybody. Fucking everybody. Do you understand that? Everybody wants that stuff. They want to destroy the stuff about themselves, and they want to keep the rest. So people are looking for me. They think I took it from Mark. I didn’t. If I had that stuff, I wouldn’t have hired you. I wouldn’t be hiding. I wouldn’t be running.”
“And the apartment, the website, the—the whole thing—”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I lied to you, Shaw.” Tears sprang to Matty’s eyes again, and this time, he didn’t wipe them away. “You’re the only person who’s ever been good to me, and I lied to you. I hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to fall—” He stopped. He bit his lips. Tears glowed in rivers down his cheeks, and he shook his head once, trying to smile. “I hope you find somebody who deserves you.”
Matty stepped around Shaw.
Shaw caught his arm.
“I’ll pay you, Shaw. I’m not running out on the bill. It might take me a while, but I’ll pay whatever I owe. If Mark’s really dead, nobody else is going to come after me. I’ll find a job. I’ll work. And I’ll pay you.”
Shaw ran his tongue between his teeth. Hurt and confusion were pulling out of him like the tide, and in their place came a hot, baking anger. Anger at North. Anger at himself for wasting so many years. Anger, too, at Matty. His hand tightened.
“You’re hurting me,” Matty said, but his voice was even. He had the watchful eyes of a boy who’d been hurt by plenty of men. He knew when to take it. He knew when to break and run.
“I told you to stay.”
“I’m not—”
Shaw shoved him onto the couch again, and then he moved to stand in front of Matty, pinning him in place. He grabbed a handful of the unruly blond hair, forced Matty’s head back, stared into amethyst eyes. Shaw could hear his own breathing, rough and eager in the stillness.
Matty blinked. He ran his hand across Shaw’s bulge. Shaw grunted, fighting to keep from thrusting into the touch.
“Is this how you want me?”
“Quiet.”
Matty ran his hand back and forth, friction heating the fabric, and Shaw grunted again and tightened his hand in Matty’s hair. Matty let out a little sound of pain, but his hand didn’t slow.
“Yeah,” Matty whispered. “I’ve been bad. I’ve been really bad. Show me you’re in charge. Show me what happens to bad boys.”
Shaw slapped him. It was a light blow—meant to sting, not hard enough to really hurt. But the shock transformed Matty’s face, sent blood into his cheeks, widened his eyes, dilated his pupils like Matty had just snorted a line of coke.
“Don’t ever lie to me again.” Shaw shook him by the hair. “Never, do you understand me? If you want to leave, go right now. But if you stay, don’t ever lie to me again.”
Matty leaned forward, ignoring Shaw’s grip on his hair. His fingers unzipped the jacket, exposing Shaw’s bare chest, and he planted kisses on Shaw’s stomach, a line of them leading down to the scant trail of hair. Matty jerked at the fly, shoving the capris down around Shaw’s thighs, his kisses trailing into the reddish-brown bush, the tip of his tongue lapping at the base of Shaw’s dick.
Shaw’s breath exploded out of him, and he jerked hard, pulling Matty away. Matty cried out, twisting, lunging toward Shaw, but Shaw held him at bay.
“Say it. Right fucking now. Or get out.”
“Never again,” Matty said, clawing at Shaw’s wrist. “Never, I promise. I swear to God.”
And then Shaw released him, felt the warm, wet heat of Matty’s mouth, and sagged, struggling to keep himself standing. He stroked the back of Matty’s head. He felt Matty’s tears pepper his thighs.
“It’s ok,” he whispered, and his heart was breaking for Matty, for everything that had happened to him and everything he had been forced to do. A surge of something that Shaw didn’t recognize filled him, and he rocked into Matty’s mouth. Love, he thought. After all this time, this was what love felt like. “It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re here now. You’re with me. It’s going to be ok.”