Page 58 of For the Love of the Bull Rider

“It’ll sober him up pretty quick. We’re wasting precious time here instead of getting the boy back. The trail is cold after a day, and I’m not about to let this get away from me,” DB insisted. Matt watched as Tim did as he asked, placing the glass in front of him.

“Drink it, Mr. Collins. You ain’t gonna wanna let too much more grass grow under our feet if you want your son home.” The man’s voice was serious.

Matt did as instructed. It went down quickly, tasting a little bitter.

“Where’s the bathroom?” DB asked.

“Oh, it’s just up the stairs and down the hall. The door is open.”

DB grabbed Matt’s hand and hauled him out of the kitchen. He instructed Tim to make some very strong coffee as they climbed the stairs.

The next thing Matt knew, he was on his knees, feeling as if he was going to die as his stomach expelled the half bottle of bourbon he’d consumed while looking through the pictureson his phone of Ryan after the local police told him there was nothing they could do before they left his ranch.

They reminded him Bertie still retained joint custody of their son, and the agreement made no distinction regarding which of them had primary custody. They wouldn’t be looking for his son at all.

Matt truly wanted to throttle his attorney, Jon Wells, for suggesting Bertie could be enticed to bring Ryan home if Matt was to acquiesce regarding a joint custody agreement the first time she took the boy, which he hadn’t been happy about giving. It worked, but at what price?

Matt climbed out of the icy-cold shower he’d inflicted upon himself in hopes of sobering up and quelling the puking. His teeth were chattering enough to rattle his whole body, so he reached down to feel his balls had left the sack, likely returning to the spot in his belly where they’d resided before he hit puberty.

When the bathroom door opened, he was surprised to see his father walk in with a large mug of steaming something. “Drink this. Why the fuck didn’t you call me and your mother last night? We’d have— Well, Matthew, he’s our grandson, ya know? You’re not the only one who missed Ryan when that bitch took him last time.” His father’s face mirrored the pain in Matt’s soul.

Matt sighed, knowing he should have called them the previous night before the idea of getting drunk sounded so fucking great. He’d been so devastated by the fact Bertie took his son again, and he couldn’t think straight. He guessed Tim wasn’t thinking straight either.

They were both a mess, and Matt was instantly pissed at himself for the way he handled the situation. It wasn’t what he should have done as a father because he should have been actively pursuing a strategy to find his son, not drowning his sorrows as if the boy was going to be gone for another three years.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, but I guess we weren’t thinkin’ straight last night. I’d have thought Danny woulda called ya.” Matt glanced at his father to see the worry.

“We went to dinner at the steak house with Katie and Josh after Tim called to say y’all were gonna stay home. We decided y’all just wanted more time together since it was your first Christmas, so we went out for dinner. Danny called and left a message at the farm, but we didn’t check them ‘til this mornin’. That man out there is a big bastard.” Marty pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

Matt chuckled, not feeling any humor in the situation. “Yeah, he is. I wish he’da beat me to death rather than give me that shit in that little bottle.”

Matt wrapped a towel around his waist before taking the cup of coffee from his father. His head was still groggy, but between the puking and the cold shower, he was sober enough to have his common sense kick in and give him ten kinds of hell.

You fuckin’ idiot! You shoulda started tryin’ to follow ‘em. No, you gotta just sit in this fuckin’ house again and drink yourself into a stupor like ya did the last time she took him!

He slugged down the burning hot liquid and looked at his father with a new resolve. “Can you have Tim bring me another cup while I get dressed? I’m sorry, Dad for not bein’ the best father I can be, but that’s about to change.” Matt opened the bathroom door.

Marty grabbed his arm and looked into Matt’s eyes. “You’re a good father, Matthew, you just don’t know what to do aboutthings like this, though none of us really do. How often does someone have to handle their child being taken?

“You’ve gotta learn to deal with some pretty crazy shit as Ryan gets older because he’s gonna try your patience, I swear, but you’ll love him regardless. Get dressed. I’ll send Tim back with the coffee.”

Marty stopped and turned to look at Matt who was heading to the dresser to retrieve some underwear. “Matthew, son, Tim blames himself because he was pickin’ Ryan up from school, and he feels like he shoulda been there earlier. He had no way of knowin’ what was gonna happen, but it don’t stop him from blamin’ himself. Maybe talk to him?” Without waiting for his response, Marty turned to leave the room with the empty cup.

Matt pulled on boxer briefs and went to the closet to grab jeans and a sweatshirt. He slipped on a pair of suede slippers his mother had given him for Christmas the year before, relishing the comfort of the wool lining on his frozen feet. He pulled on his jeans and the sweatshirt before he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, praying not to gag.

After he finished, he combed his wavy hair and returned to the bedroom, seeing Tim sitting on the bed looking so fucking guilty it was sad. There was no reason for the handsome man to blame himself. He hadn’t done a damn thing wrong.

Matt walked over to sit down next to him, pulling his smaller body onto his lap. “I love ya, Timmy. Thank you for lettin’ me wallow last night and thank you for takin’ care of me. I’m so sorry this happened, but we’re gonna get our boy back, I swear.”

Tim pressed his forehead to Matt’s shoulder while he sobbed. It was definitely Tim’s turn to cry because Matt had cried damn near all night, but it wasn’t getting them closer to getting Ryan home.

After a few minutes, Matt reached for a tissue from the box on the nightstand. He tilted up Tim’s handsome face and wipedhis eyes. “We gotta get our shit together because this ain’t gettin’ him home. I love ya. Let’s go talk to that big bastard in the kitchen. What the fuck did he put in that glass?”

Tim giggled a little as he wiped his eyes. “Ipecac. It makes you vomit, which you did for a long time. How’s your throat?”

Matt swallowed, feeling a tightness. “I’ll live. Come on, we got a little man to rescue.” The two of them rose from the bed and walked down the hallway, then down the stairs where everyone was waiting for them in the kitchen.

Matt noticed the tree wasn’t on, and he decided it would stay dark until Ryan was home, irrespective of how long it took. It wouldn’t be Christmas without his son at home, but they would bring him back.

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