Grace (The Family Simon 5)

“Come on, Mattie.”

“My name is Matt.” He stuck his chin out and glared at her.

A smile played around her flaming red lips. “Okay. Matt. Come inside with me. Your father wants to tell the family something.”

Matt’s stomach lurched because in that moment he knew. Things weren’t done changing. He took a step back. Thought of running somewhere. Anywhere.

But then the door flew open and his father stuck his head out. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get your ass inside, Matt. I’ve got something to say and I want you in there with me. Don’t make me look bad.”

The look in his father’s eyes told him a few things. One. If he sassed him, Matt would pay. Two. Whatever it was his dad was gonna say to the family, had to do with Delilah. And three. Matt just knew none of it was going to be good.

He wanted to run—to disappear and never come back. But he didn’t have the balls to defy his father. Not yet anyway.

So he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and followed Delilah back into the house. The remains of their Thanksgiving meal were still on the dining room table, and everyone was gathered around waiting for the show to start. His grandfather (who was already belligerent and drunk), his uncle Brad and aunt Denise, and his cousins.

His dad slipped his hand over Delilah’s body. He squeezed her ass and pulled her into his arms. He grabbed a beer from the table and told them all that Delilah was moving in with him and as soon as his divorce was final, they were getting married.

The noise. Oh the voices and congratulations and hugs and kisses. Matt watched it all, his stomach churning, his hands balled into fists. No one cared about his mother. No one cared about him.

He slipped away, unnoticed, and headed back out to the porch. But the quiet and stillness did nothing for him. And when he couldn’t hold it in any longer, Matt leaned over the side of the railing and vomited.

Every bit of his Thanksgiving dinner, right there in the snow with an empty bottle of whiskey and an empty pack of smokes.

Empty. Just like him.

“MIND IF I JOIN YOU?

Matt shoved off from the railing and turned as Eden Simon stepped outside. Her soft golden hair was covered by a pink knit hat and she’d wrapped herself in a coat two sizes too big—her husband’s he was going to guess.

She watched him intently and he could tell that the woman had something to say. He just wasn’t in the mood. Not tonight.

“Sure, but I was just leaving,” he replied, taking a step toward the door.

“Can you stay a minute or two, Mathew? Is it all right if I call you Mathew?” Her voice was soft, but the look in her eyes was anything but. It wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but her demeanor was decidedly cooler than it had been the last time he’d see her.

Of course, a lot had changed since then.

“Mathew is fine.”

She smiled and walked toward him. “Good. So, Mathew, how are things?”

Matt took a moment or two and tried to get a read on Grace’s mother. “Things are fine.”

“And what is it that you do again? Motorcycles or something like that?”

“No. I work on cars.”

“Right. So you’re a mechanic.”

“Not exactly. I restore classic cars. Customize them for clients.”

“That sounds interesting. Do you have your own shop?”

“I work from home.”

“That’s wonderful to have that kind of flexibility.”

Matt nodded. “Flexibility is good.” He paused. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way Eden, but I’m pretty sure you’re not all that interested in my work life. So let’s not do this. Just ask the question. I won’t be offended.”