"Sometimes I think so. It’s there, though. That mean streak. I feel like I have a nest of hot coals in my stomach burning all the time, hotter and hotter, ready to explode at any second. I joke around and smile and try to play nice, but I'm so fucking angry all the time. That's why I don't drink. I'm afraid, if I lose control for even one second, it's all going to come spewing out, like magma from a volcano and it’s going to obliterate anyone close to me."
That told me more about him than anything he'd said so far. He wasn't just depriving himself of alcohol. He was also depriving himself of human companionship.
"But you have your brothers."
"Yeah, well, they're stuck with me. Besides, they're both fighters and depending on the day, could whip my ass or at least hold their own. It's...other people I worry about. When I look in the mirror and I see her eyes looking back at me, it makes me sick to my stomach. All I see is the potential to bring pain. I hate it."
I hated it too. Hated that he felt that way, hated that we had these sad, twisted childhoods that bound us in some morbid way.
“I just wanted to tell you that you’re not alone and you have nothing to be ashamed of. They’re the sick ones. They’re the ones who should be ashamed, not us.” He held my gaze until I looked away, a jumble of emotions running through me all at once. “Let me walk you up now,” he murmured, and pushed open his door to come around to my side.
It took a few minutes for me to find my keys and a few more to trudge up the stairs because the elevator was broken, but by the time we got to apartment six hundred, the last thing I wanted was to be alone. I’d left the warehouse broken, sad and a little drunk and now, even after telling Matty the worst parts of my life, I felt…cleaner. Better. Maybe he hadn’t forgiven me, but he didn’t hate me, and that mattered more than anything right then.
I wasn’t ready to let him go yet.
“You got it from here?”
I shivered, the air-conditioned building turning my wet clothes into a wearable refrigeration system. “I’d rather if you came in,” I said softly.
His laser-like gaze held mine and he shook his head slowly. "Bad idea."
"Why?" My voice sounded husky but it wasn't because I was hesitant. In that moment, I'd never been surer of anything in my life. I tried again, louder this time. "Why is it a bad idea, Matty?"
"You know the answer to that already, Red. If I come in, I'm not going to want to leave. I'm going to want to hold you and then I’m going to want to kiss you-” He jammed a hand through his damp hair and let out a low growl of frustration. “I wish I could turn it on and off like you do, or push it aside so we could just work together, but I can't. It's always there for me, and the way I feel tonight only makes it worse."
"How do you feel tonight?"
"Mad. Mad that you had to go through that as a kid. Mad that I have to work for your father. Mad that he's your father at all. Mad that you didn't tell me the truth. And furious with myself because I fucking want you anyway, and what does that make me?"
"It makes you human. It makes both of us human."
Heart in my throat, I took his hand and walked backward through my door, leading him with me. "Stay with me. Let's make each other forget the past. Your mom and mine. We'll forget Mickey and this whole stupid deal and just let go."
"I can't just let go."
"You can with me. I won't judge you, Matty."
"What if I hurt you?"
"I'm made of tougher stuff than that, and I know something you don't."
"What's that?"
"You would never hurt me."
I rolled up onto my tiptoes and kissed him, slipping my tongue between his lips on a sigh. Please, my soul begged.
On a groan, he responded, his tongue tangling with mine, taking and giving all at once. I craned my neck back to give him the space he needed and, when he grabbed my hips and hoisted me up, I responded by wrapping my legs around his lean waist. He palmed my ass as we walked, bumping into walls as we went. He grunted when his elbow smashed against the closet doorknob, but he didn't falter.
"Are you sure?" he muttered against my mouth.
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Bedroom is the second door on the right," I said, between kisses. I locked my arms around his neck, hanging on tight as he let go of my bottom to open the door. He crossed the room in three long strides and set me on the floor.
I yanked off my wet shirt and pants and tossed them to the carpet, excitement and elation melting away any shyness.
"I don't have a fucking condom again," he said in a guttural voice, eyes glued to my body even as he stripped the nearly transparent T-shirt over his head. "I keep doing that on purpose, thinking if I don't have one, it will stop me from trying to fuck you, but it's clearly not working."