𝗠atteo sat at the shore, watching the waves lap halfway up his haphazard sitting position. His eyes ate up every inch of the fading white bubbles as the face of the current left the edges of the water. He watched the foam dissolve and wondered if it were a religious thing to believe he was the human embodiment of every tangible disappearing act.
He was back home. He was with his daughter and his sister, and he should be happy. But he wasn't. Not even close. And as he stared into the sunset, watching the pinks morph into purples, and the oranges become dissected by yellows, he wondered if he would ever feel whole again.
Six months ago, he was in the worst spot he could possibly be in—a place so vile and disgusting, he would never wish it on anyone. Anyone but himself. And while he knew he shouldn't yearn to be back in that cage, tormented and abused—knowing he was outright insulting those who lost their lives to save him—he still did it.
Because even if it meant he was nothing, a nobody, a waste of space not even good enough to be beaten on a daily basis—at least he knew who he was. At least, in his mind, Lilliana was still alive, and not just in his dreams. And when he caught glimpses of his daughter's face, he didn't have the tugging urge in the back of his mind to wonder how his older brother was doing.
Six months ago, he didn't care about anything.
Now, he was a muddled mess of a man—a half-assed father, and a poor excuse for a brother. As his fingers ran through the small chunks of his hair, and his eyes devoured the sky, he felt as if he was never more lost than he was now.
And because of that, he couldn't socialize.
He couldn't stand next to his sister and pretend that everything was okay. He couldn't lean on Rueben and laugh, share a beer, and act as if he wasn't mad at him for saving his life but not being quick enough to save Lilly's. He couldn't watch the love shine between Mason and Kai and not feel a stab to the gut because of their marriage.
He couldn't do any of it.
He couldn't even be human if asked.
"Daddy! Daddy, look!" Ruby shrieked.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he lowered his chin and gazed at his beautiful daughter, happy to see the light he missed in his own gleaming in those emerald eyes of hers. Her small, chunky fingers held tightly to a wet seashell she was shoving into his face.
"Whoa, what's this?" he asked, plucking it from her.
"A she-shell!" she giggled.
"It's beautiful. Is it for me?"
"No!" she yelled, snatching it back and running away.
As he watched her stumpy legs run away toward the water again, he knew he was lying to himself. There was one person on this Earth who reminded him what it was like to love, to be happy, to be free, and she stood a foot tall and had bright red pigtails.
His daughter was his keeper—whether she knew it or not.
"Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if she never existed?" Jase asked.
Matteo turned his head, almost forgetting that his partner in sadness had been sitting by his side since they welcomed everyone home together. His brown eyes weren't looking at him, but rather at the small stick in his hand that he used to draw in the wet sand. Matteo noted the F's and J's written in his lap before replying.
"Never. She's the best thing that happened to me."
Jase nodded solemnly, "I'm envious of you."
"Fatherhood isn't easy," Matteo watched his daughter, "It's trial and error. Loving and disciplining at the same time. When you have a tiny person who looks to you for everything natural, it can feel like the most amazing thing and also like the biggest test. It's hard to do right by her sometimes, even though that's been my only intention."
"Yes," Jase said slowly, "But she's still yours."
"That she is."
"And she's Lilly's," he continued, his voice almost distant now, like he was speaking, but not to Matteo, "—at least you have this piece of her. This part of her that walks and talks and loves. A child who looks and acts like her. I'd give anything to have that. Anything to have more than just the memories stuck in my head. I'd give anything to have something to remind me not to forget."
Matteo stared at him. Jase didn't share the sentiment, but it didn't matter. Because all Matteo focused on was the despair in his voice—the pinch in his brows and the blood that sprinkled the water from his never-ending, bleeding heart.
He'd felt so alone, so singular, in the last few weeks mourning Lilliana while being free, that he hadn't even acknowledged that he wasn't alone. He'd been so focused on isolating, at trying not to get too close to anyone again, that he hadn't realized his mirror sat a foot away from him and bore a head of shaggy brown hair and a dead girlfriend.
"How're you doing?" he questioned, "I know the funeral is in a few days."
"How did you do when you found out Lilly was gone?"
Matteo paused. Gazed at his daughter.
"Yeah. There's no putting that into words."
Jase moved his head in a nod, but it felt robotic, as if doing such a mundane task took an exhaustive amount of effort out of him.
"Sometimes I think about us, and I imagine that we're just two teenagers. Two kids who'd met before shit turned real and we were made out to be weapons. That in a parallel universe somewhere, I hand her the dishes and she dries them. That our names are spelled out with magnets on the fridge between the awards and grades of our children."
He paused, then finally turned his head toward him.
Matteo watched the way the purple eyebags moved with a semblance of expression as the corners of his mouth tilted upward. He watched the way his eyes lit up with a tiny blaze of fire as he recalled the love of his life and exactly how she made him feel.
"—does that sound pathetic?"
"No," he said breathlessly, "Not at all."
"The guilt eats at me, y'know. During moments like these, when my heart begs to join the chaos behind us, to have fun. My mind tells me that only one of us pressed pause on our lives, but my heart screams at me. To not forget her. Her voice. Her laugh. The way her eyes crinkled when she was genuinely happy, and how dark they became when she was mad."
Jase sat up and stood, wiping the sand from his pants.
"The worst part is," he tucked his hands in his pockets and gazed at the sunset; Matteo watched the way the colors accented the solo tear sliding down his face, "—I don't think I could ever forget a single thing about her even if I tried. Francesca Dupont was my life. My breath. So it's my job to continue breathing for the both of us. Even if it destroys me."
Jase didn't wait for his answer. He didn't even look at him or Ruby once. And Matteo was going to call out to him, to beg for him to come back and talk this out because the way he'd described his grief was exactly as his own—and he never wanted to see someone drown the way he did, but as he was going to, a new pair of footsteps appeared behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught eyes with Maverick and suddenly Jase's departure made sense. Ever since coming home, Matteo had made himself nothing more than a fly on the wall. He knew that Maverick and Jase were close friends, but what Maverick didn't know was that his opinions and thoughts were the last things Jase needed to hear.
Apparently, he thought his voice was gospel.
"Hey," Mav plopped down next to him, "Where's Jase going?"
"On a walk."
"Good," he sighed, stretching, "I wasn't in the mood to listen to him be sad again."
"Then why'd you approach us?"
"Because I knew he'd walk away."
Matteo narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more and beckoned for Ruby to come sit in his lap. While he knew there was nothing inherently sketchy about Maverick, a feeling in his blood warned him to protect his daughter, and he never questioned that instinct.
Ruby fell into place, curling into a ball like she was going to do that all along.
"Beer?" Maverick asked, gesturing an unopened one at him.
For the sake of it, he said, "Sure."
Popping them open, they sat in silence for a few tender minutes, just watching the sky like he'd been doing when it was just him and his daughter. And the longer he remained settled next to this basic stranger, the more he found himself wondering about him—the more he wanted to know his intentions with life, with his friends.
"It's just us single lads now," Mav took a sip, "How sad."
"Very," Matteo forced a smile.
"We could always change that."
Maverick shot him a crooked smile on an angled head, which had Matteo spitting up the remainder of his sip in the sand. Mav held it for another second before his laughter got the best of him and he burst out loud, holding his stomach in a joke that wasn't all that funny to Matteo.
"I'm kidding—I'm not into gingers."
"Well, thank God for that," Matteo said, only half-teasing.
"I like my boys black-haired and blue-eyed."
Matteo knew exactly what he was insinuating, but decided against questioning him. He knew damn well that Mason was married to Kai now, and if he wanted to put himself between them, that was his prerogative, and theirs to respond to. Just as he didn't wanna hear Jase complain, there was nothing interesting about his silly crush.
"He's kind of like Lilly, y'know," he started, "The one that got away and all."
"Lilliana is dead. Mason is married. They're not the same."
"Well, yeah," Mav rolled his eyes, "But it feels the same. Knowing that there's no chance you're going to be with that person again because they've left your life. I mean—"
Matteo cut him off, but not in a mean way. Not in a way that boiled the blood between them, but left him deprived—exasperated—begging for him to understand that the world doesn't revolve around him in the way he thinks it does.
"Lilliana and Mason aren't the same, and our feelings towards them never will be. I have loved Lilliana for five years, and I can see myself loving her all the same for the rest of my life. There is nothing I wouldn't give to see her again, to hold her, to smell her—to be able to call her mine. But I can't. She's gone. Dead. Never coming back."
He shook his head, feeling angry, but not letting the feeling surface.
"—Mason is still alive. The only difference is that he didn't choose you. He chose love and the war that comes with it to keep the machine running. He chose to fight for someone who fought for him. Not for an immature little child like yourself who can't see past his obsession to realize that's all it is," he gazed at him sadly, "You don't want Mason. You want the idea of him. When you understand that life isn't a field to play games in, you'll find your person. Until then, don't whine about your unrequited feelings in the face of people who've actually had them. It's sick."
Matteo scooped up Ruby and decided he'd had enough of these conversations for one evening. He walked back inside and spent the next few hours getting his daughter cleaned and put down for bed. And just as his final back tap had her heavily breathing, the door to his room creaked open.
Rayne waved as he moved away from the crib and put a finger to his lips. She acknowledged it and pointed to the room down the hall, clearly seeking a talk.
And even though he was tired in more ways than one, he obliged his sister and followed her to the party room on the other side of the house.
Rayne shoved him inside and then shut the door, double-checking to make sure no one was around.
"What's going on?" he asked, feeling anxious.
"I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."
"Rayne," he said sternly.
"Mat, please," she begged, running up and grabbing each of his hands, "Trust me on this. Just do this one thing for me—I need to know you won't tell anyone else."
He saw and heard the fragility in his sister in that moment, and without hesitating, promised her what she sought and so much more. The world—if it was what she wanted—anything to see this type of glow in her, this type of happiness.
Rayne thawed and began to shyly smile as she let go of one of his hands and pulled something out of her back pocket. Placing it in his hands, her eyes watered.
"You're going to be an uncle."
Matteo gasped, feeling his heart implode in his chest as he looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test, and then toward the happy-teared face of his twin. His laughs came out as if he were about to cry, but the feeling was indescribable.
"How long?"
"I think about four months, but I'm not sure," she touched her stomach.
"Are you happy?"
"Oh, Mat, I'm so happy," she cried, grinning so wide, "I'm gonna have a baby."
The final word cracked on her tongue, and it sent a bout of pride and love into his heart—an amount so filling—he felt as if all of the pain he'd been in had been repaired. And as he stared at his sister, and the way she protected the plastic stick as if it were the child in her belly, he noticed how she'd grown.
How if she'd gotten this news years ago, the trauma their mother put on her shoulders would have taken over her. But now—now she was a woman. A strong one. Someone who had defied every single shitty thing the world had thrown at her and made it her own. Someone who had, despite being tossed to the ground, risen beyond measure.
The only thing he regretted was that he wasn't there to hold her hand through the process.
Matteo grabbed her and engulfed her in a hug.
And in that moment, he couldn't help but feel as if the pieces of his life were clicking into place. He couldn't help but appreciate his life, even if it meant never seeing Lilly again, because there was a family standing on the other side of the ocean, waiting for him.
That even if it took a decade to cross it all, they would still be there waiting for him.
A healthy daughter.
A sister who was a mother-to-be
And a kick-ass future brother-in-law.