Even though Matias was talking about Cruz, I couldn't help but think that maybe it wasn't just his brother who'd had those feelings about their father.
"But he knows now that it wasn't his fault, right?" I asked carefully. "That nothing he did warranted that kind of behavior?"
Matias didn't say anything at first. When he did respond, he actually turned to look at me first. "He wants closure," he murmured. "Cruz. He told me tonight that he wants to go see the bastard so he could say goodbye to him before the cigarettes finish him off."
"Your father is dying?"
He nodded and then turned his attention back out the window.
"You don't understand why Cruz wants to see him before he's gone," I offered.
"He's always been too forgiving, too trusting," Matias muttered.
"Maybe it isn't about forgiving him," I suggested. "Maybe it's about letting go of something that he’s held on to for too long. Maybe it's about not letting the past define his future."
Matias was quiet for a moment and then he looked at me. I expected him to argue the point or at least disagree with it, but he caught me completely off guard with his next question.
The question I wasn't prepared to answer.
"Is that what you did? With Mac?"
Chapter 15
Matias
"Fuck," I snapped, but I was directing the curse at myself. I had to be the stupidest man on the planet. Cruz was right, I really did lack the filter most people had when it came to being sensitive to others. "Sorry," I managed to get out as I started to move past Sam. I never wanted to see that look of hurt in his expression again. If the only way to do that was to not stick around and ask him incredibly cruel questions about the man he’d obviously loved a great deal, then that was what needed to happen.
"No, wait," Sam said as he grabbed my arm.
"I shouldn't have asked that," I said. It was all I could do not to rip my arm from Sam's grasp.
"You asked it because it's something you want to know." Despite Sam's words, his voice was lanced with hurt.
"That doesn't make it right," I returned. "You want to know why I don't talk much, Sam? This is why. Because I say the wrong thing. Because I think the wrong thing. Usually, it doesn't matter because Cruz is the only other person I've ever given two shits about and he's used to the way I am, but you're not."
I tried again to move away from him, but Sam's grip was firm. "You said your brother’s the only other person. Other."
I inwardly cursed because I hadn't realized the implication of what I'd said. But clearly, Sam had. Or at least he thought he had. I could easily derail the whole thing by telling Sam he'd misunderstood me, but the lie refused to pass my lips. For once, so did the truth.
When I didn't say anything, Sam eased his grip just a little, but not enough to release me entirely. His voice sounded less pained as he said, "What's that saying? Do as I say, not as I do? Yeah, I do use what happened to Mac to keep from having to move on. I guess not letting him go all these years has been the only thing that's made it possible to hang on. And I guess being able to focus my anger on Declan and the other police officers who failed Mac meant I never really had to accept it. I turned Mac into a cause. But worse, I let my hate and anger rub off on my son… on Mac's son."
Sam released me and stepped away. I felt the loss immediately but he only went so far as his bed and then sat down on the edge of it. His eyes found a spot on the floor between his feet and stayed there.
"When Elliot was a baby, I never talked about his dad. He actually found out about what happened to Mac when he googled him one day when he was old enough. So his first real memory of his dad isn't hearing about how Mac couldn't stop repainting the nursery until he found the 'perfect' shade of green or that he would drive our surrogate crazy with endless questions about every move or kick our baby made while he was in her belly… no, his first memory of the father who couldn't wait to meet him was of how he died. And instead of focusing on how Mac lived, I fueled Elliot’s pain with my own anger and resentment."
I went to sit beside Sam on the bed. "You have an amazing son, Sam. The fact that he makes my brother as happy as he does is a testament to what a good man he is. He got that from you."
Sam discreetly dashed at his eyes and nodded. He paused for a long moment before adding, "Elliot told me today that he doesn't want to run the business anymore."
"I know. Cruz told me."
"I had no clue he was so unhappy. How did I get so caught up in my own life that I couldn't tell that my child wasn't happy?" He shook his head. "You hear all about parents who push their kids into things they never wanted to do and it seems so obvious and you think you’ll never be like that. Then you find out that's exactly what you are like—"
"I don't believe that for one second," I snapped. I forced myself to take a breath before adding, "Just like I don't believe that Elliot would want you spending even one moment feeling guilty about how things turned out."
Sam let out a harsh laugh. "That's what he was most upset about. Hurting me."
"Like I said, he's a good man. Like his father."
Sam looked at me with watery eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Matias."
"You don't have to—" I began.
"And thank you for fixing Ryan's window." Sam lifted his eyebrows knowingly and added, "And for taking care of the leak beneath the kitchen sink. And for replacing the light bulb in the garage. And for doing whatever you did so Ryan's bedroom door doesn't squeak anymore when you close it."
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as Sam listed off all the little things I'd done in the past week after letting myself into Sam's house while he and Ryan had been gone. I knew he'd notice Ryan's window, obviously, but I hadn't figured on him realizing I'd returned multiple times to take care of other things as well.
"WD-40," I murmured.
"I don't know what that means, but thank you," Sam said with a small laugh.
I found myself laughing as well. "It's like lube, but for hinges and stuff."
This time, Sam was the one who was blushing. I had no doubt he was remembering my creative use of his shampoo in the shower. Desperate men and all that…
"How did you know I was here tonight?" I asked.
"You’ve been here every night for the past week," Sam responded. "I took a chance that tonight would be no different."
"You knew I was here?"
Sam nodded. "I didn't see you, but I knew you were out there hiding in the shadows of my backyard."
"Why didn't you say something?" I asked.
"Why didn't you just come in?" Sam shot back.
We both fell silent. "Why did you open the door tonight?" I finally found the courage to ask.
"Probably for the same reason you came over. I didn't want to be alone."
"So what do we do now?" I asked. "I know I need to stop this, but I can't. I won't."