Grace (The Family Simon 5)

He felt as if his head was going to explode and thought that maybe he should leave. Maybe this was a bad idea with a steep curve and that curve sure as hell wasn’t headed up. Matt was riding a slippery slope that could only go down.

Mind made up, Matt started for the door.

“I’m sorry.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced over to his father. Those frenetic, glossy eyes were focused on Matt with an intensity that was unnerving.

Matt didn’t say a word because he couldn’t speak. I’m sorry. Two little words that carried some heavy weight. Two little words that were the pebbles at the bottom of a mountain of rock. Two little words that started a landslide of emotion. Hatred. Anger. Sadness. Bewilderment. Anguish.

Matt felt as if he’d just run a damn marathon and yanked on the collar of his Henley, as if it could somehow free him from the tightness that encased his body. But it didn’t work. The walls felt as if they were closing in, and the images, the memories were like a collage that ran the gamut of everything he was feeling.

The boat, his dad, and that fish.

His mother’s tearstained face when she’d said goodbye.

Delilah and her seductive, glossy, lips.

His broken and bruised body, lying on a sterile bed not unlike the one Benjamin was in now.

So many bad things between the two of them. So much pain. It was too much for I’m sorry, and yet it was all they had. The old Matt would have shoved that fact down his father’s throat, told him to rot in hell and leave.

But he wasn’t the same man and his first thought was, Grace would be proud of him. Matt’s eyes slammed shut. Grace. What he wouldn’t give to take her into his arms and let her warmth and goodness seep into his soul. He was good when she was with him. He was a better man.

And yet this was something he didn’t want her to ever see. Not this. Not now.

His father was still watching him, those eyes of his now filled with tears. Matt crossed the room and pulled out the chair beside the bed.

I’m sorry, his father had said.

Matt reached for the outstretched bony hand. He grasped it hard and cleared his throat. He looked at this broken, dying man, whose eyes were filled with fear and regret. He looked at him and knew that the father in the picture was still there inside him. It had probably been there all along. But Benjamin had been weak. He’d made some bad choices.

But then so had Matt.

I’m sorry. Matt decided to accept those words. He squeezed his father’s hand and settled into the chair.

I’m sorry.

“I know, Dad.”

29

Grace and Betty Jo caught a flight out of Detroit. They barely made it, had maybe ten minutes to spare, and both of them pretty much collapsed once on board. They’d driven through snow, several accidents, and one roadblock in order to get there, and Grace felt as if she’d won some kind of race when they did.

Her sister-in-law had pulled her hair back into a tight bun. With no makeup and heavy leopard-print glasses, Betty Jo was able to breeze through security without being recognized. Grace drew a few second glances, but she wasn’t as high profile as any of her brothers. Thank God. It made for a quiet flight and, though Grace would have loved some shut-eye, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Her mind was racing and her heart was trying to keep up.

She pressed her head against the cool window.

“You okay?” Betty Jo secured her seatbelt and looked at Grace.

“I will be once we get to Matt. He just looked so lost and upset.”

“His life has always been complicated and his relationship with his father and Delilah is something I’ve never really figured out. Thing is, I know Matt. He needs more time to process all of this. I’m sorry Grace, but don’t expect hi

m to be happy to see us.”

Grace’s stomach churned at the thought. She shivered and broke out into a cold sweat. She wouldn’t think about that, at least not right now. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

Betty Jo squeezed her hand as the plane began to taxi down the runway. “I love him too.”