Page 44 of Laurels and Liquor

He lets out a single humorless chuckle, throwing his head back before turning back to me, eyes narrowed in a glare. “You’re always just ‘doing your job.’ Because it’s work first, no matter what. I should have known from the beginning you would always be in it for yourself.”

I get to my feet and advance a step in his direction, but he stands his ground, spine curling defensively. Not that I care at this point. This is years of things unspoken between us finally coming to the surface. And if he wants to go there, then I can, too.

“Everything I’ve done has been in the name of protecting us, protecting this pack, and making sure we could survive and thrive. I was the one who backed you and Rhett when you had no clients, no experience. Just a dream and a half-baked plan. I used every tool in my arsenal to make sure you got what you wanted. But it was never enough for you, was it?” I shout.

His laugh is more like a snarl, and the ugly twist to his mouth stokes the furious flame in my gut. “I never asked for any of that shit, Lex. I thought you wanted business partners, not charity cases. And if we were so pitiful and in desperate need of your help, why the fuck did you even bother?”

“Because I believed in you!”

“No! You saw us as a means to your own ends! Rhett had the education to make your visions viable, and I’ve just been the pretty face you parade in front of investors to make sure you have the funds you need to do all the things you want to do.” Mateo points an accusatory finger in my direction as he speaks, his face contorted and flushed in his anger.

I can’t help the affronted gasp as I reel back from him. “That is not—I have never once—”

Mateo laughs again and spreads his arms wide in triumph. “Then how the fuck do you explain what you did with the Wickland House funding? You went behind our backs and did what you allegedly ‘had to do,’ but guess what? You didn’t have to do any of it! We could have found another project to work on, one that wouldn’t have saddled us with a fucking sociopath omega hellbent on destroying us.”

I’m too stunned to speak as I take in his words, each hitting me like a blow. My guilt surges back to the surface, and I can’t respond. Because he’s right. I wanted Wickland House so badly, and I couldn’t stand the thought of not getting my way. And everything that’s happened since is my fault.

I turn away, not willing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. Breathing through it, I try to force my mind to think of anything else to get my emotions under control. I can’t let him see how deep he cut. I need to get it together.

“Even now, you’re hiding from me. What are you so fucking afraid of?” Mateo throws at me.

“I’m not afraid,” I protest, but even I can tell there’s no power behind it.

“Horse shit. You’re terrified of being the person your father tried to make you into,” Mateo accuses.

I flinch away, but then defensive anger surges up again, giving me back control. I let my face go blank, no emotion for him to exploit as I turn back to face him. The shift knocks him off balance, and he blinks, staggering back a step. Good.

“And who would that be?” I ask mildly.

Mateo recovers quickly, motioning at me with an open hand. “This. This cold, calculating bitch who would rather die than admit she gives a shit about anyone or anything,” he says emphatically.

I roll my eyes. “If you’ve felt this way, why didn’t you leave? Rhett would have gone with you, and Lucas, too. If I’m such a terrible person, then why did you stay?” I ask, words a flat, low monotone.

There’s silence for a long time, and my heart cracks for a moment before it hardens. He wants to leave, and why not? He’ll be able to get his life back after this weekend, and there won’t be anything tying him down. I turn away, suddenly exhausted. But then suddenly a gentle hand on my shoulder turns me around. I look up into Mateo’s face, the anger gone, leaving behind a swirling pit of emotions in his fawn-colored eyes.

“Because you’re not a terrible person, Lex. I’ve never thought you were. You are probably the best of us. Hell, if you were a terrible person, you would have admitted to the fraud and just paid the fine, and called it the cost of doing business. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t be the person your father wants. You have such a good heart and strong conscience that it ate you up inside, and you care so much about us, even if you don’t always show it,” he says, voice softer now.

Shaking my head, I try to look away, but he grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling my eyes back up to meet his. I’m not prepared for the warmth of his little smile, or the intensity of his stare, and I choke out a sob. I was prepared for the anger, but this acceptance and forgiveness is too much. The guilt and fear and heartache break free of the box I’ve been putting it in for the last three years, spilling down my cheeks in unstoppable waves.

“I’m sorry. For all of it. I didn’t… I can’t stand the idea of letting any of you down. I try so hard…”

As my words die in choking sobs, Mateo gathers me up in his arms without hesitation, and pulls me tight into his chest. I return the embrace just as fiercely, unable to help myself. His touch grounds me, especially the hand that runs up and down my spine. He smells like lemons and sunshine, and all the good things I don’t know if I deserve. I take deep, gulping breaths of it while I can, closing my eyes and basking in his warmth. We sway gently on the spot, not speaking until my tears stop. I swear his lips brush the top of my head, my stomach flipping a little, but I brush it off. My imagination is getting away from me again.

“I’m sorry, too. I ran because… because I couldn’t go anywhere in Everton without thinking about him. And I didn’t want to burden y’all with what was going on in my head. But I never actually wanted to leave, not permanently. You and Rhett mean everything to me. With Lucas and Lydia, we’re going to be a family,” he mutters, and now I can’t deny the feel of his lips brushing my hair as he speaks, or the flutter in my belly it brings.

I can’t help the little smile that forms as he speaks, the image of all of us together after everything we've been through warming my heart. We fall silent for another moment, holding each other as the sound of crashing surf fills the air. I have to think about the last time I let someone do this, and it makes my stomach drop to realize that it’s been months… maybe even years. But this feels… right. Safe. And even as I fight the instinct to melt into him, I can feel something else in the air, like the final notes of a symphony, suspended in that liminal space before the conductor drops his arms, and the audience erupts in cathartic applause.

Mateo cracks the silence as he clears his throat and shifts slightly. Not letting me go, but adjusting his weight. I brace myself, not sure what I’m expecting him to do next.

"If we’re clearing the air, I do have one more question, and it’s been bugging me for years,” he says suddenly.

But that sure as shit isn’t it. I lean back to look up at him, brow furrowed in question. His eyes are darker now, and he’s smirking. I almost pull away, but if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know if I could leave his embrace if someone paid me to right now.

“The last night of the conference, when we were in the hotel bar, and we invited you back to our room, you said you never mixed business with pleasure,” Mateo says.

I flush hot and look away, pursing my lips to hide my smile. I remember that night, and I can’t say it doesn’t rank pretty high on my list of regrets. At the time, I was too worried about people using me for my name, and I didn’t want anyone to accuse me of using my feminine charms to get what I wanted. But even then, it was a flimsy excuse. Rhett and Mateo didn’t have any influence, and we’d already agreed that we should work together. The chemistry was there then, and hasn’t diminished in the slightest over the last decade.

“I’m not sure what question you’re asking,” I say slowly.

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