my head, you’d be running as far away as you could.” His hands fisted, he hunched his shoulders, and he looked so angry that Grace’s courage slipped. This wasn’t going at all like she’d hoped.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “Let me in, Matt.”
His gaze swung back to his still laboring father and when he finally turned to Grace, his eyes were dull, his expression wooden. When he spoke there was no emotion. There were simply words.
“When I was sixteen my father beat me so badly, I ended up in the hospital for weeks.”
Chest heaving, heart aching at his words she took a step toward him. But Matt shook his head and she froze.
“He beat me because he found me in bed with Delilah. She cried rape and he snapped. He never thought to question the fact that she was in my bedroom. He just started throwing punches and that was it. I was done. Didn’t have a chance.”
Grace watched him closely. Afraid. So afraid for him.
“If he had asked, I would have told him that when I was fifteen, she walked in on me in the shower. Said it was an accident. Said she thought my dad was in there. It happened again a few weeks later, but this time I knew it wasn’t an accident because she stripped off all of her clothes and climbed in with me. After that we had sex whenever we could. My dad would be out mowing the lawn and I’d be in the house banging his wife.” He laughed, a colorless, harsh sound. “I thought I was in love with her. Hell, maybe I was. It’s hard to keep things straight in my head.”
“You were a child,” she said slowly, horrified.
Matt looked away. “After my dad caught us—after the hospital—I had nowhere to go. I crashed at friends houses and in the summer spent a lot of nights at the lake, sleeping in an old ratty comforter I found at the dump.”
Grace didn’t know what to say.
“He didn’t want me back, and I guess I can’t blame him. I disappeared into a world of booze, drugs, and women. I banged anything that moved because I could. I treated women like crap and I didn’t give a damn. I got high and hoped like hell I would stay that way for the rest of my life. I’d pop any pill, smoke any drug I could get my hands on and then I’d chase it down with a bottle of Jack.”
He looked up suddenly and Grace’s breath caught. He didn’t look anything like her Matt. This man was hard and angry.
“That went on for a few years, and truthfully it’s a damn miracle I survived. Betty Jo had a hand in that, and I guess we saved each other.”
He was silent for a few more moments, his eyes back on his slumbering father. “A few years passed and I found out about Justin. That they’d had a kid together. I scraped together enough cash to fly to Phoenix. I found their place. I don’t know what it was that I thought I’d accomplish by heading out there. I was high, pumped full of pills when I got to the house. My dad came to the door and told me if I ever showed my face there again he’d kill me.”
Grace’s eyes moved to the prone body on the bed. How could a man treat his child like that?
“He would have. I saw it in his eyes.” Matt followed her gaze. “And now he’s dying and I’m here with him and I have no idea how long this is going to take.” Matt went quiet for a few moments. “You need to go back to your family, Grace.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.” Anger sparked a small flame inside her, and she lifted her chin defiantly.
“We’re not a couple, Grace. We played house for a few weeks. That’s about it.”
His words hurt her as much as if he’d taken a blade to her skin. Played house. That’s how he saw their time together?
“I’m not built for what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want,” she replied, eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Sure I do. You’re no different than all the other women I’ve been with. You want a family. A husband. Couple of kids. Maybe a dog or two. A cat.” His face was harsh in the dim light. “You want the white picket fence, and that’s not something I have any interest in.”
Her teeth began to chatter.