Page 147 of Marry Me, Maybe?
“The only gay kid I knew in Bristlecone back then was Carter.” Matty’s voice stayed steady, but it held an edge of something brittle. “When this man showed interest, I guess you can say I was… flattered. It’s not easy growing up gay in a small town like this.”
“What happened?” I forced the words out, my brain already sifting through faces at the ranch, calculating ages to find the culprit.
“He decided because I was younger, that meant my role was to bottom. Always.” He looked away, throat working. His heart raced against mine, even though he sounded calm. “I was scared but went along with it because, well, where else would I get to have that experience? He said it would get easier, and I would enjoy it after the discomfort wore off. I never did. I hated it. Every second of it. The way he would bend me over and be finished long before I was even ready. It went on for months before I finally worked up the nerve to tell him I was done bottoming.”
Rage burned hot in my chest, so sudden it nearly choked me. I pushed up on my elbows, staring down at him. “Matty—Jesus Christ.” My voice shook. “That wasn’t just wrong. That was a crime. You were a kid. Fourteen. He was almost thirty. That man should’ve been in jail for even looking at you that way, let alone touching you.”
“Nah, I knew what I was doing and went along with it.”
Matty glanced away, but I caught his jaw and forced his gaze back to mine. “Don’t downplay this. Don’t you dare think you were just some willing kid fooling around. You were taken advantage of. Used. Does Gray know?”
“No, and don’t say anything.” He caught my wrist when Itried to pull back. “It was a long time ago, and I’m over it. Just chalked it up to a bad sexual experience. We all have some of those. Grant dropped me the second I stopped letting him use me like that, and I was just… relieved it was over. I buried it, and I never told anyone. Not Dad. Not Carter. Just shoved it down.” He exhaled hard, shaking his head. “But I wanted you to know in the same way you told me about your past. I don’t want to hide anything from you.”
He was saying a lot, but only one word registered. “Grant?” My blood went ice cold. “You mean Grant, who works at the bank? The one who’s with Lawson’s ex-husband?”
Matty flinched but nodded. “Yeah.”
“Matt—fuck—he still lives here. Why didn’t you ever tell Gray? He would’ve pressed charges. He would’ve burned the whole town down for you. You know that’s the kind of father he is.”
“I didn’t want that.” His voice cracked now, raw. “Back then, I was grateful it ended and wanted to put it behind me. Then I grew up, met you, and for the first time, it wasn’t about power or age. You let me take the lead instead of assuming you should top. You trusted me.” He finally met my eyes, gaze burning. “That’s why I wanted tonight. To take back the choice. To give it to you because I love you. Not because I had to.”
My chest felt too tight, my throat too raw. I cupped his face and kissed him like I could put back every stolen piece. “Thank you for telling me,” I whispered against his lips. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Matt. It was not okay what happened between you and Grant. Fuck, now I hate him more than I did before.”
He kissed me back, slow and sweet. “Don’t think about it.I shouldn’t have brought it up and ruined the mood. I had big plans for tonight.”
“You didn’t ruin a damn thing,” I said fiercely, kissing him again, harder this time. “If anything, you made tonight mean even more. Because this time was ours. Yours. No one else’s.”
He made a low sound, almost a groan, and pulled me back down against his chest. We lay there tangled up in each other, but my mind wouldn’t let me forget his name.
Grant.
36
MATTY
By the time I crossed the yard, most of the ranch hands had already filed into the barn, the low hum of their voices carrying out through the open doors, mixed with the clang of cutlery on tin plates, the scuff of boots on concrete. Basically, the lunchtime lull. I wasn’t hungry. Not for food anyway. I’d been looking for Hudson for the past fifteen minutes, and he was nowhere in sight.
I lingered by the fence. Where was my truck? Where was Hudson? No sign of him with the crews. My gut twisted, half with worry, half with the gnawing regret I’d been carrying since last night.
Christ, why had I let the past come out of my mouth? I’d spent days planning something good, something memorable, and instead of getting down on one knee, I’d dumped a rotten piece of my history on the man I loved most. There was no way I could have proposed to him after that. My past with Grant wasn’t the way I wanted to remember our proposal story.
Maybe I could take Hudson and Ivy up to the clearingwhere I planned to build our house and show them the view. The thought steadied me, even warmed me for a second. A proposal there, with Ivy running under the trees, would mean more than any motel room ever could. Maybe it was all good that I hadn’t proposed last night. Ivy was a part of our story, so she deserved to be included.
“Looking for someone?”
I turned. Dad was coming out of the barn, a plate in his hand, steam curling off cornbread and stew. His hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but even so, his gaze was steady.
“Hudson. You seen him?”
I’d been worried all morning that Hudson would say something to Dad about Grant, but by noon I breathed easier that he understood I didn’t want to poke around in that old affair. Dad had been livid when he found out about me and the foreman, and I’d been of the legal age of consent. I might be grown, but he wouldn’t let it go. Already so many rumors about our family swept the town. The last thing I needed was for people to gossip about Grant fucking me when I’d been a minor.
Dad nodded toward the dirt road. “Took the afternoon off. Said he had business in town to take care of.”
Business in town. My chest tightened. He hadn’t said a word about it this morning, and Hudson wasn’t the kind of man to vanish without telling me. Disappointment sat heavily in my gut, sharper than I wanted to admit.
“Right.” I forced a shrug. “Guess I’ll catch him later, then.”
Dad studied me, the way he always did when he knew I was chewing on something but wouldn’t spit it out. “Something bothering you, son?”
