Faith and Fidelity (31 page)

His hand was wet with semen, his face damp with tears. It always ended the same— a flash of release and then the weight of his guilt pressing down until Evan gasped aloud. It wasn't guilt for the release; it was guilt at having to cheat with Matt's memory.

He took a quick shower— in the dark, cold— then dressed in jeans and a sweater, trying to look human, trying to warm up a bit. Evan's brain felt a bit less fuzzy, and in a way that wasn't an entirely good thing because self-realization hurt.

His list of victims— a list that included his own name as well— seemed far too long.

How long could he hide in the haze and pain, burying himself in avoidance?

He knew he was hiding from Sherri's death, from his feelings for Matt, from being the father he knew his kid's deserved. His job— he couldn't even go there. Everything he'd prided himself on had somehow ended up in a big ashy heap.

On shaky legs, Evan descended the staircase. The tribunal awaited.

Miranda spotted him first and let out a loud but guarded “Dad!” that was quickly echoed by Kathleen, Elizabeth, and Danny. Helena came around the corner to watch him warily. This was going to be fun.

He noticed Vic Wolkowski sitting on the sofa. Watching intently. Shit.

“Evan.”

Nodding a greeting, he then spotted Serena Abbot, drying her hands on a dishtowel, and watching him speculatively from his kitchen.

“Hey,” he croaked, cursing his weak voice. “Something smells great.”

A few nods amongst the crowd; the rest were blank faces. Jesus, was he really that fragile these days? Even his little ones were watching him like the seams of his sanity were about to split and spill onto the floor.

Which wasn't very far from the truth.

He girded up his strength and plastered on something resembling a smile. Reaching out his arms, he walked over to the couch and gave the kids each a tight hug. His heart broke the way they minutely tensed.

Swallowing his bitterness, Evan kept smiling as reassuringly as he could, moved to stand near Vic, who had a look in his eyes that bespoke of reproach and suspicion. He didn't bother to meet Helena's gaze because she had already seen him fall apart and wouldn't believe any bullshit.

Serena flashed a look very similar to Vic's. They made a lovely couple.

Awkward silence.

Some more awkward silence.

Finally Helena apparently took pity on him because she clapped her hands together and said, “OK! Let's get the table set. We've got about a ton of food to work through tonight!”

Serena rolled her eyes, which made the little kids snicker as they moved into the kitchen. Helena caught Evan's glance and smiled gently; she seemed to understand he needed to ease into the evening.

Everyone clamored into the kitchen to “help” Serena but Evan held back. He could see Vic staring at him and he knew what was coming.

When the living room had cleared out of non-essential personnel, Evan faced his boss with squared shoulders.

Vic sighed. “Evan, I realize how tough things have been for you. And that's not bullshit, you know that,” he said softly, intently. “You need help. And you need it now. No more pussyfooting around.”

A huge lump settled in the middle of Evan's throat. He nodded.

“I have the name of someone, someone who helped me a lot after my wife... died. I'm going to give you his number, tonight. And tomorrow, first thing, I want you to call and make an appointment.”

As he reached around to grab his wallet, Vic gave Evan a very stern look.

“After you make that appointment, you come and tell me the time and date. After that first appointment, you come and tell me how many sessions you're scheduled for. We'll work your schedule around so you don't have to miss a lot of time, all right?”

“Yeah, Vic... Thanks,” Evan said quietly. He took the card and stared at it.

“Evan, this is an opportunity I'm giving you here. Frankly, it's only because I do understand your situation that I am giving it to you. Either work with this doctor and salvage your life or I'm putting you on leave.”

Evan's head jerked up. “What?”

“This is your last chance, Evan. I've let a lot slide but it ends now. I can't trust you on the streets in your condition.”

That made Evan bristle. “I'm a good cop.”

“You're a brilliant cop. One of the best I ever worked with but you are depressed and lethargic and distracted and grieving on so many levels that I can't trust your instincts are at 100 percent.”

Vic's voice raised slightly, and Evan could hear the emotion behind his words.

“You are a fortunate man, Evan. You have four beautiful kids who love you desperately. You have friends who want you to heal. And you have a chance to love someone pretty damn terrific... ”

Evan tensed up, his face frozen. Jesus.

“I know that something went wrong, but I have to tell you, Evan, I hope it's something you can fix. I've known Matt for a long, long time and... he's a special person. He doesn't fall very easily, Evan.”

He tried to move his mouth, tried to say something, but his throat was sealed closed. All he could do was nod and drop his eyes to the carpet.

When he found his voice, Evan whispered, “I'll call the doctor first thing in the morning. I'm due back on Monday morning— is that still a go?”

Vic shrugged. “You tell me.”

“Desk duty for the first few weeks. I can do follow up calls, that sort of thing.”

“That sounds workable.”

“Okay.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, sounds of laughter and chatter coming from the kitchen.

“Hey, you guys almost done in there? We've got food on the table.” Serena came to the edge of the room, a little tentative.

Vic shot her a smile. “Coming. It smells incredible.”

Serena glowed her thanks and turned to go back into the kitchen.

“Let's go enjoy the meal and the company, okay?” Vic said kindly.

“Tomorrow you start putting it together. Tonight, you get a reminder of why it's worth the work.”

Evan nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”

Vic reached out and gave Evan's arm a light punch. Evan couldn't suppress a grin.

“Yeah. Thanks, coach.”

Vic rolled his eyes. They shared a quiet moment and then joined the rest of the family in the kitchen.

As Evan looked around at the smiles and let himself be filled with the sounds and smells and warmth of these people, he realized that someone was missing.

Matt was missing. And he couldn't deny that anymore.

Matt and James woke up early and decided to get breakfast before going their separate ways. James had to hop on a plane and go be a great (heartbroken) best friend. Matt had to go be... Matt and figure out what the holy fuck to do with his pathetic life.

They showered separately because Matt just couldn't go there. They found a hole-in-the-wall diner down a side street and ordered King Breakfasts— five ninety-nine for enough cholesterol to set off warning bells. It was delicious.

Somehow there was no awkwardness, considering they'd only know each other for about fifteen hours and had already both shared their deepest feelings. And had sex. They talked police, baseball, basketball, and traffic in New York versus traffic in Washington state. It was enlightening. Matt only had a few twinges of “I wish I were here with Evan.”

And most of them were, “I wish I was here with Evan and James, because I think they would get along.” And of course, “I wish I was here with Evan and James, but that I had had sex with Evan.” He didn't let it interfere with the good time he had with James though.

They parted ways on the street. An airport farewell seemed a little... bold. They exchanged business cards and home numbers, promised to keep in touch.

“Call Evan,” James suddenly said, apropos of nothing (they were discussing the best route to Queens). Matt started a bit. “I mean it,” he said, a little more passionately. “Don't let too much time pass by, okay? Don't blow this.”

Matt knew exactly where this was coming from so he just nodded, feeling an odd twinge in his throat.

“You should take your own advice,” he said softly.

James shook his head. “I missed my shot. But you... the door's still open.”

“I'm not so sure about that.”

“Kick it in.” James winked.

Matt laughed out loud. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

“Good.”

“I'll think about calling.”

“Jerk.”

They grinned at one another for a moment.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

And then, with a firm handshake and a gorgeous smile, James was gone, whisked away in a hastily hailed cab to LaGuardia. It was quite simply the oddest one night stand Matt had ever had— aside from the fact that James was a guy.

Matt watched, long after the vehicle had disappeared from view, then turned to hail his own cab.

And ran smack into Miranda Cerelli.

Blinking in surprise, Matt struggled to find his voice. He had no idea how Evan had explained his abrupt departure from their lives.

“Matt!” Miranda cried, with real delight in her voice. A second later, she seemed to retreat, as if she regretted her exuberance.

“Hi, Miranda,” he said, going with sincere warmth as his safest bet.

“How are you doing?”

“Um... good.” Her eyes seem to flicker everywhere but Matt's face. He tried not to notice how much the nervous mannerism reminded him of Evan.

“No school today?”

“We're off— teacher's conferences. I'm meeting some friends for lunch. Then we're gonna check out NYU.”

“Hey, that's right— you're almost done with school.”

She warmed to that. “I know! I can't believe it.”

“NYU's a nice school I hear.”

“Uh-huh. Totally awesome and it has everything I want. ‘Cause I'm going to take communications, you know. To work in television. I so hope I get in.”

Matt smiled warmly. “I'm sure you won't have a problem.”

“Thanks.”

Caught up in the moment, the words just slipped out. “I bet your dad is damn proud of you, Miranda.”

They both froze, Matt cursing himself for venturing into that painful territory. Miranda's eyes went back to the ground and her shoulders clenched.

“Shit, Miranda. I'm sorry. I didn't mean... shit... ” he babbled. “I don't want to put you in an awkward... ”

Shit.

He also realized, quite suddenly and quite painfully, that he was seeing his ex-lover's daughter— and she was just seeing a friend of her dad's. He bit his tongue viciously.

“Matt, can I ask you a question?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Why aren't you and my dad friends anymore?”

And there you go.

Matt took a deep breath and swallowed the knot in his throat.

Gee, Miranda, I don't know. We stopped being friends a few months ago when we started being lovers.

“I still care... about your dad, Miranda. And I wish him the best. He just needed... space... to deal with, you know... everything that's going on... ”

That sounded fucking lame even to his own ears.

And then there was the confused twist to Miranda's face when she lifted her glance. “Why would he need space from his friend? He has hardly anyone but Helena and Mr. Wolkowski. And they're work people mostly, you know. You were like the first real friend he had in forever. He was happy. It was so nice.” Now Miranda was starting to tear up, and that just stabbed a red-hot poker through his heart. “He's so sad now, even more than before.”

She sniffled and Matt just about died.

“Aw, honey, please don't cry. I'm so sorry, I really am. But your dad knows what he's doing. He must've had his reasons. And I want you to know, I am here for you guys. You and your sisters and your brother
and
your dad. You just have to ask.”

She sniffled a little more.

“Okay.” Matt fumbled for his wallet and grabbed a business card (his second of the morning, the circumstances of which made him dizzy at this moment) then a pen, writing down every possible number he could think of where Miranda could find him. He thrust it toward her.

“Here you go, honey. You keep this with you. Anytime,
any
time you need something, you let me know. Anytime.”

Her shining blue eyes pinned him with a piercing gaze.

Something in the air between them shifted and settled, like knowledge passed with molecules and not words.

“Thank you.”

“I... I'm sorry, Miranda. You'll never know how much.”

“I... thank you, Matt. I'm sorry too. I hope my dad wants to be friends with you again someday. I think he needs... I think he needs to be friends with you.”

It was in her face, even he could read it— that mix of girlish innocence and “seen too much” wisdom. A little voice told her this was more than friendship but she didn't seem worldly enough to put all the pieces together. For that, Matt was grateful. Given Evan's reaction during their last... fight... his kid knowing about their relationship wasn't something to reveal on a street corner in Chinatown.

So finally Matt just said “Me too, Miranda” and tried to resist the urge to hug her. She didn't have the same impulse control, because a second later she was throwing her arms around him and giving him a hasty squeeze.

“Okay, I have to go.”

Not trusting his voice, Matt just nodded.

“Uh... bye.”

Deep breath, Matt, deep breath. “Take care, Miranda. Say hi... to your family.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

And then she ran. Literally.

Shaking, Matt lifted his arm to hail a cab.

Matt checked the map in his hands, trying to make heads or tails of which of the little boxes translated into the admissions building for NYU. In a bold, shockingly non-alcohol-induced decision, Matthew Haight had decided to Return To School.

Amazing. Nothing like giving yourself a second (or was this third?) start in life.

The NYU catalog was sitting with his mail the Morning After (he was beginning to think of many parts of his life as being in capital letters). The cab ride from the city to Staten Island had been a revelatory one for Matt.