Faith and Fidelity (33 page)

That was bugging him.

Because rationally— and he was still capable of being rational once in awhile— he knew he wasn't responsible for everything. Jesus. How many times had he explained to some grieving parent or spouse or witness that they couldn't have prevented something terrible happening to the person they loved? He gave himself the same speech in his head and wondered if the people he gave it to over those years wanted to smash his face in with a tire iron.

They pulled into the driveway; Miranda and Matt both made the same relieved sound.

Evan wasn't home yet.

“The kids are at the sitter,” Miranda murmured, her hand gripped on the door rest. “Wanna... should we go inside and wait?”

No.

“Okay.” Matt cleared his throat, turned off the car, and opened the door, the memories assailing him.

Miranda followed, dragging her feet as she pulled her key out of her bag. It was literally in the lock, the little cylinders clicking, when the sound of a car approaching made them both turn around.

Evan pulled into the driveway.

There was a car in his driveway, a familiar car, and his eyes went to the front door...

Evan slammed on the brakes. Then he parked in the driveway, behind Matt's car, his brain flying in every possible direction and coming up with nothing.

Matt. Here. With Miranda.

Matt's heart went
boom
! and
thud
! and his brain started cursing a mighty blue streak as he tried to do something other than jam his hands into his pockets and look uncomfortable. It didn't work. Miranda was practically vibrating herself into hysteria next to him.

“It's okay, Miranda. Just go talk to your dad,” he murmured, putting his hand over hers and opening the door.

She just managed a nod, walking toward him with agonizing slowness.

Evan met her halfway, his mild freak out over Matt replaced with fear at the look on his daughter's face.

“What?” he said, running the rest of the way and putting his hands on her arms. “What's wrong?” One of the other kids... ?

And Miranda just erupted in a flood of tears, huge choking sobs as she bowed her head. It was all so surreal and then Matt walked over, gingerly approaching them.

Evan looked up, his eyes wide with confusion but seeing Matt's calm expression he started thinking,
If he's not freaking out, maybe it's not so bad.

“She, uh, got into some trouble. I picked her up and brought her home— she's okay, just freaked out,” Matt rambled, gesturing toward the house. “You wanna uh... ”

“Yeah,” Evan agreed, quickly, automatically. He wrapped his arms around his still crying child and herded her into the house, his rational side wanting answers— his irrational side completely and uncomfortably aware of Matt following them into the house.

Matt shut the door and found the light automatically, watching as Evan led Miranda to the couch. There was a lot of murmuring and quiet conversation; he stood there like a piece of excess furniture until it felt intrusive. He headed for the kitchen.

Once there, the memories started popping up like targets at the firing range. Here they are, kissing. Bang! Here they are, fighting. Bang! Here they are, Evan splattering Matt's guts all over the floor. Bang! He went into the fridge and stared until Bang! the cold propelled him to move. Matt grabbed a pitcher of iced tea, continuing to make himself at home— ha— pouring three glasses and arranging them on the counter. And waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Bang.

The story came out in literal dribs and dabs; Evan used up the entire box of tissues as Miranda worked herself into a mild hysteria. He managed a bit of sternness and disappointment, but mostly he was just scared shitless at how scared she was. Like she thought he was going to fly into a rage instead of just holding her close and telling her that everyone makes mistakes.

Yeah.

Matt drank his iced tea. Then he drank Miranda's. Then he had to take a piss and fuck it all if he was going upstairs into that bathroom. Basement, he thought and then
fuck
— that one was aloud— he walked downstairs into Memory Central, grumbling the whole way.

He took a piss in the small half bath, flushing and avoiding the corner where Helena had caught them kissing. Matt stomped back up the stairs, his flight instinct kicking in. What the fuck was he doing here? He helped Miranda, he took her home to her father, and now he was done. Right? Evan broke things off, he didn't want him around. This was fucking masochistic.

And that carried him all the way upstairs and right into the kitchen where he surprised Evan, poised over the sink filling a glass with water.

“Hey,” Evan said, awkward and tired and still wearing his suit jacket. “Uh... ”

“Had to take a piss,” answered Matt, snapping off the light, his tone just as hard. He looked around and didn't see Miranda.

“I sent her upstairs to wash her face and lie down. Listen... thank you. She told me that you rushed down to get her and I appreciate that,” Evan murmured, leaning against the sink and staring in the vicinity of Matt's shoulder.

Matt shrugged, asshole behavior bubbling over. “No matter what happened between us, I don't have any ill will toward your kids.”

Evan winced.

“Yeah... well, thanks. I'm going to bring this up to her, see if I can't get her to take a nap.” He walked past Matt, fingers itching and brain burning.

“Right.” And then Matt had a clear path to the door. Fuck this, whatever. “Tell Miranda to feel better.”

“I will.” Evan was on the stairs, hit with a wave of nostalgic memory so keen he nearly dropped the glass. He started to say thanks again, but as Matt reached the door, hand on the knob, what came out was, “Can you wait a few minutes? I have to move my car.” And he disappeared upstairs.

Matt turned around to say something sharp and “hurry the fuck up"-ish but Evan was gone and he couldn't.

He kicked the door then went and sat on the couch. He had just decided it was a bad idea when the door opened and a gaggle of Cerellis fell through.

“Matt!”

The three younger Cerellis hadn't had a shitty day, complete with being arrested, and they weren't reliving the memories of what had happened in this house— good and bad— they were just happy to see an old friend.

Matt got hugs and questions and even a kiss from Elizabeth, and Jesus, when did these kids get so big— had he really been gone from this for so long?

“What the hell are you three eating? You're like weeds!” He managed to sound gruff and not emotional, but clearly his eyes gave something away because Kathleen grinned over her younger siblings’ heads.

“It's a growing up thing, Matt. It happens to kids,” she said cheekily and he could see she was going to be a handful in about... six weeks. “Where the heck have you been? We totally missed you.”

“Totally,” Danny echoed, throwing his bag in the direction of the umbrella stand. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Matt was at a loss. Totally at a loss, because anything was just a stab in the dark. “I have to move my car” isn't actually a “missed you, stay for dinner” offer.

“Uhhh, not sure.” He ruffled Danny's hair and smiled.

“You're not sure where you've been?” Elizabeth looked a little confused.

“Maybe he was abducted by aliens.” That was Kathleen again, disappearing into the kitchen with her brother on her heels.

Elizabeth laughed and Matt made his decision right then and there that Evan could just toss his ass out if he didn't want him here. He was staying for dinner.

Evan took his sweet time getting downstairs. He sat with Miranda until she drifted off, then watched her sleep. There was no way he could have missed the stampede of the rest of his kids and their voices mingling with Matt's.

It hurt. More than he ever thought possible.

All this lonely time, all the regrets— and now there was Matt, falling right back into place. Filling a space in their lives, all of their lives. And Jesus, that had been hard to miss what with Matt not looking anything like Sherri... It never occurred to him that a man could fit that role for him.

Drifting through his thoughts, Evan tried desperately to remember all the perfectly valid and reasonable reasons he'd pushed Matt away. Really— it made sense. For his kids (downstairs, laughing and talking, and did someone yell up something about pepperoni?), and his job (Helena and Vic, huge supporters of what he and Matt had together), and his reputation in the neighborhood.

Mother of God, was he doing this because of his reputation? Was he afraid to admit Matt made him happy, turned him on, filled a space in his life? The consequences of making a decision like this... when did he decide being miserable, and therefore making his kids miserable, was acceptable?

Miranda stirred in her sleep. The fact that she'd called Matt over him— he couldn't stop thinking about that. She was afraid of him. Afraid of Evan's reaction. The first person she thought of after that fear... Matt, even after all this time. It blew his mind and neatly ordered decision out of the water.

That's where his thoughts sat, his body still as he watched the shadows fall across the room. A little knock at the door caught his attention, finally, and Evan turned to see Elizabeth shyly hovering.

“Matt ordered pizza!” she whispered loudly, the most excited he'd seen her in a while.

And it wasn't because of the pepperoni.

Evan nodded, smiling back at her. “One minute, honey,” he whispered back. She dashed back downstairs to the hub of activity. He tucked the blanket a little tighter around Miranda, took a deep breath, and headed toward the staircase.

“We have pizza, we have meat and meatless, we have sticks, we have a salad without olives, we have... what else do we have?” Matt asked, looking around at the ravenous faces clustering the box of food.

“A need for antacids?” Evan's voice cut through the babble and his kids managed to pry their attention away from the steaming tin foil-covered containers to say hello.

“Yeah, good idea.” Blustering, Matt ducked his head and started opening everything; Kathleen passed paper plates and Danny was in charge of plastic silverware.

“Napkins,” Elizabeth said. “And who wants milk?”

“Milk and pizza?” Matt looked up to shudder.

“Beer and pizza?” Evan ducked around the island, narrowly avoiding a collision with Matt as Danny leaned through to claim the last somethingoranother in the fridge.

“Much better.” And Matt couldn't help himself, he looked up and caught Evan's eye, waiting. Challenging. This would be much easier if his chest wasn't tightening up so goddamn much.

“Thanks for taking care of dinner.” Evan didn't back down from the stare; he grabbed the fridge door from Danny and got out two beers. “The kids are thrilled to see you.”

“Duh, he knows that,” Kathleen said, filling her plate over the grabs of her brother and sister. “Did you know he was abducted by aliens?”

Evan handed Matt the beer and just like in the movies their fingers touched, and just like in the movies Evan got a thought bubble over his head full of regret and want.

“It's the only reason they could think of that I'd not be here.”

The gauntlet was thrown down; Matt turned away first, popped open his beer and reached for a slice.

Dinner was a hit, and afterward, no one gave Matt a chance to say good night. Danny was already putting
King Kong
into the DVD player. Evan fussed in the kitchen forever; he put together a plate for Miranda, put away the leftovers. Cleaned the counter. Ran the dishwasher. And then finally turned out the light.

At some point the movie would end, the kids would go to bed, and Evan knew as sure as he knew his name, that Matt would still be there.

The look the other man gave him as he sat down was all the confirmation he needed. They were going to talk.

King Kong
might possibly have been the longest movie ever or maybe it seemed that way because Matt just wanted the goddamn thing to be over. So he could— or they could— talk or fight or something. Anything that wasn't sitting here in hazy domestic comfort with a room full of sprawled out kids and a sofa that suddenly seemed entirely too small.

Or cramped with memories, that might be it.

By the time the credits rolled he was wishing he still smoked so he could duck outside and suck down some nicotine, but the kids distracted him. There were good night hugs and Elizabeth gave him this look, like she was staring into his brain when she said, “See you soon.” It wasn't a question and the air was suddenly very heavy.

“Night!” Danny yelled, tearing up the stairs and declaring he was first in the bathroom which brought up a sound of furied frustration from Kathleen as Elizabeth trailed up, reminding them both about Dad's bathroom and jeeeeeeeeeeeze what dorks.

Matt grabbed the remote and shut off the DVD as Evan unrolled from the couch with a stretch and a sigh.

“You need to go upstairs or anything?” Matt asked, his voice loud in the quiet absence of the family.

“Nah, not unless I hear bloodshed over bathroom time,” Evan answered, a wry smile playing around his mouth as he turned and looked at Matt. “I, uh... you want a beer or something?”

“Beer, beer is good.”
Cop wouldn't offer a drink if he was kicking me out in five minutes.

Evan walked into the kitchen and Matt thought he heard the words “need fortitude” in the air.

Two beers in hand, Evan returned to the living room slowly. He had so much racing through his head, too much to articulate. And there was no way to hide in sex or fighting with the kids upstairs. Jesus, he had to communicate. It was giving him hives.

“Here,” he said, handing one of the sweating bottles to Matt. Matt, who looked big and strangely comfortable on the sofa. Who looked like a man who remembered that sofa and what had happened on it— the good, the bad, and the fucking ugly.