I hadn't been able to.
But thankfully, there had been someone who had.
Predictably, when I thought about the man who'd saved my son's life, my body thought about him too, and not in a good way.
Okay, maybe in a good way but not exactly in a way I wanted it to.
I only knew a few things about the man.
First, that he was called Matias, and I only had that tidbit of information because he also happened to be the brother of my older son’s boyfriend. Second, the man, Matias, was one scary-ass guy. He'd snapped the neck of the man threatening Ryan's life like his body had been made of twigs rather than flesh and bone. And third, with his tattoos, emotionless voice, and piercing eyes, Matias was someone my mind was dreading seeing again even as my body was eagerly anticipating that moment.
Since he was Cruz’s brother, it was likely that I wouldn't be able to avoid the man in the future, especially if my instincts were right in that Elliot had found his soulmate. So that meant I'd have to figure out some way to deal with the guy, which meant getting my body and my mind in sync the next time I saw Matias. Since I loved Elliot more than life itself, I couldn't wish away his chance at happiness with Cruz, even if that would make things a little bit easier for me.
I sighed because I was being beyond ridiculous. Not only was I considerably older than Matias, I doubted the man was even gay. Yes, he’d looked at me in a way that had made my entire body shiver with excitement, but I considered myself to have pretty good gaydar. And nothing about Matias had made it ping. Of course, with the guy as cold and detached as he was, I doubted he’d ping on anyone’s radar, gay or straight.
Though I'd always thought I was someone who could read people, Matias had left me fumbling like some insecure teenager. I hadn’t even had enough courage to shake the man’s hand to thank him for what he’d done. And if my behavior hadn’t been bad enough, I’d actually started to physically react to the man while standing right in front of him. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually popped a boner in my own living room a mere hour after one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I had to write it off as adrenaline related.
As I made my way to Ryan's room, I gave the spot between the living room and the hallway a wide berth because that was where my attacker, Blake, had put his gun to my son’s head. Part of me wondered if maybe I just needed to consider selling the house because spots like that would likely haunt me for the rest of my life. But I’d only adopted Ryan six months earlier, so the last thing the nine-year-old needed was any kind of instability in his life and moving definitely counted as instability.
I felt a little bit better once I reached his room because the damage wasn't bad; nothing more than a broken window. I went to the kitchen to grab a broom and dustpan. Since my son was in a wheelchair, I’d renovated the house and had all hardwood floors put in, among other things, so it would be easier for him to get around. That made cleaning up the glass easier. I'd have to board up the window until I could arrange to have it repaired, but otherwise my son's room was ready for his return. I just wasn't sure if he was. I'd tried a few times over the past several days to talk to Ryan as we’d both stayed with our neighbor, who also happened to babysit Ryan on a regular basis, but my son hadn’t wanted to talk about the incident with Blake.
I’d already reached out to a child psychologist because I had no doubt Ryan would start showing signs of the trauma he’d endured at some point. Despite cerebral palsy stealing away his ability to communicate in the same way other people did, my son was a normal kid and he had normal reactions. His efforts to “forget” what had happened three nights ago wouldn’t work and I needed to be prepared for that.
Once I got the glass cleaned up, I made my way to the back door just off the kitchen. I wasn’t a particularly handy guy but figured I could manage to pound some nails through a piece of wood to board up the window until I could hire someone to come out and replace it. For once, the Seattle weather had cooperated and laid off the rain for the last few days, but I wasn’t going to push my luck since angry storm clouds had been rolling across the sky all day.
It took me several minutes to find a piece of wood in my little garden shed that I thought would work. I left the shed with the intent of seeking out a hammer and some nails in the garage, but the second I turned around, I let out a hoarse shout and dropped the piece of wood. And on my own damn foot, no less.
“It’s just me,” the shadow standing near the fence line said.
Since I recognized the voice, I didn’t hesitate to growl, “Jesus fucking Christ,” as I slumped back against the shed door and tried to catch my breath. I didn’t normally swear, but I figured the hulking figure lurking in the darkness not ten feet from me was reason enough to let the F-bomb fly. Not to mention my foot hurt like a son of a bitch.
“Matias?” I asked when my terrorized heart finally began beating again in my chest. The man hadn’t said a word during my tirade.
He still didn’t. Instead, he stepped into the light cast across the backyard from the motion-detecting floodlight. The man was as dangerous and intimidating as he had been just three days earlier and I couldn’t help but wonder if he stood in front of a mirror and practiced getting the look just right.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I tried not to react to the fact that Matias was walking straight toward me.
He should have stopped a few feet away.
Or, at the least, a foot away.
Hell, even half a foot would have been reasonable. Pushy, but still reasonable.
But no, the man just kept coming until he was so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body and I could smell the spiciness of whatever aftershave or cologne he used. The guy clearly had no concept of boundaries, but with my back against the shed door and his big body in front of me, I had no way of subtly escaping his too-close-for-comfort proximity.
I knew I should probably ask him what the hell he was doing in my backyard, but I was too busy listening to my mind and body going at each other. My brain was telling me to flee while my body was fine with right where it was. In the end, I didn’t have to make either decision because Matias made it for me when he leaned in so his mouth was practically brushing mine.
Almost.
But not quite.
With that one move, he pretty much answered the question of whether he was gay or not. I would have rejoiced over that fact if the man hadn’t chosen that moment to open his mouth and ask the one question I was least expecting.
“When will your husband be back?”
Chapter 3
Matias
I should have just kept my mouth shut because it didn’t really matter where the guy’s husband was. I didn’t care if Sam was married.
Well, okay, I cared, but only because I didn’t usually fuck around with men who were taken. It made things way too complicated and the last thing I wanted was some guy whining to me about how he’d left his husband or boyfriend because of me.
But if the only way I could have Sam was to deal with the baggage he came with, like an absent spouse who didn’t even have the common sense to get his ass back home to protect what was his, then so be it. It was the guy’s loss.