Page 82 of A Life Chosen

He’d never seen Mathias sleep so much. At strange hours of the day, Rayan would find him on the couch or stretched out across the bed, dead to the world, as though his body was trying to counter a yawning deficit. He would wake groggy, surly, hair falling loose across his forehead, making him appear young and unassuming.

Rayan found himself unable to tear his eyes away, struggling to reconcile this version of the man from the one he remembered. Earlier that morning, Mathias had caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and scowled at his reflection.

Rayan didn’t ask how long he was away from Montreal or what story he’d told to cover his absence. Sometimes Mathias took phone calls privately on the balcony, with the door shut. Rayan didn’t ask about the churn of events, the responsibilities awaiting him, but with each day, he grew more anxious about the time when Mathias would have to leave.

It was almost noon one day, and Mathias sat drinking coffee at the kitchen counter while Rayan stood across from him, slicing vegetables for soup. Mathias picked up an old newspaper by his elbow, his eyes falling to the pile of papers beneath. Rayan could see the Ministère de l'Éducation logo clearly visible in the header of the letter that lay on top.

“What’s this?” Without waiting for a reply, Mathias reached for it.

Rayan watched as he read, his stomach sinking.

Mathias glanced at him over the top of the letter. “You got your equivalency certificate.”

It had been easier than expected. He’d shown up at a testing center before leaving the country, mobilized by a decade of self-doubt. Expecting to fail, he’d been surprised when he’d managed an almost perfect score. Rayan leaned over, yanked the letter from his hand, and returned it to the pile.

Mathias sat back, studying him. “So that’s the plan—apply to university here?” he scoffed. “You’ll need to work on your Greek.”

Rayan picked up the knife and gripped it in his fist. He swirled with a defensive anger, the man having prodded his greatest insecurity. “You don’t think I can do it?”

Mathias’s face grew serious. “What would you study?”

Rayan shrugged, returning to chopping, which was easier than looking at him. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He waited for the derisive comments, but none came.

“Toronto has several decent programs,” Mathias said, spreading the newspaper out before him. “I’m in Hamilton sometimes—more often than I’d like.”

Rayan stilled, something stirring in his chest.

“If you don’t want anything to do with the family, the family wants nothing to do with you,” Mathias continued, idly scanning the front page. “You did your job, kept quiet. I can make it like you never existed. You don’t have to learn another language, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are you saying?”

Mathias frowned, folding the paper tightly and tossing it aside. He stood, jaw clenched. “If you were in Canada, I wouldn’t have to fly halfway across the fucking world to see you.”

Rayan swallowed, his mouth dry. “Thought you were done with me.”

Mathias glared at him, silent.

He felt a sharp sting and looked down to see blood blooming from a cut he’d made along his thumb. “Shit,” Rayan muttered. Stupid. He’d been distracted.

“Let’s see,” Mathias said, rounding the counter.

“It’s nothing,” Rayan said, moving to the sink. “Just a cut.”

But the blood was already filling his palm. Maybe it was deeper than he thought. Mathias appeared at his side, pulling his arm toward him and reaching for a dish towel. As Mathias wrapped the fabric tightly around his hand, the man’s breath quickened. They stood by the sink, Mathias holding his arm aloft, waiting for the bleeding to slow.

“That night,” Mathias murmured absently, staring at the blotch of red seeping into the white linen. “I had to throw out my shirt.”

Rayan’s stomach lurched. He finally understood. He could see the departure clearly, stemming from the moment Mathias had found him bleeding out in theparking lot—a catalyst for his extrication. Mathias, an expert at cutting off anything that endangered his well-guarded defenses, had peeled him away before he could do any more damage.

Why didn’t I see it?All those days Rayan had spent wallowing in his own self-pity, resenting the distance that had opened between them, Mathias hadn’t succeeded in severing himself from his humanity as Tony had believed. He’d only managed to suppress it.

The bleeding appeared to have stopped, but Rayan didn’t remove his hand from the man’s steady grip. “I never thanked you,” he said quietly. “That’s twice you’ve saved my life.”

Mathias raised an eyebrow, his mouth curving. “It’s just a cut, Rayan.”

Rayan looked at him, the heaviness gone. All that remained was the pressure of Mathias’s hand on his, holding tightly.

Mathias woke to Rayan’s steady breath on his neck and the most aggressive morning hard-on he’d experienced in a long time. He blinked to reorientate himself, regarding the low, sagging bed, peeling blue wallpaper, and flimsy white curtains that did nothing to stop the sharp Cypriot sunshine from assaulting every inch of the room. In his waking mind, a single thought pushed itself front and center with an assailing disregard for all other things.

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