Page 49 of The Playboy's Playbook

I feel more tears fall. “The cover up is always worse than the crime.”

I look at him and he looks at me. We don’t say anything. We just stand there, two broken hearts – two broken people.

After a minute, Matthew finally bends over and picks up his hard hat and walks back to his truck. The truck’s engine turns over and I wait for the sound of tires crunching against the rocks on the pavement before I slide down the door to the floor.

I bring my knees to my chest and tuck my head and I sob as if he’d just run over my heart with his truck. Nola walks over to me and jumps in my lap and I hold her close, needing comfort.

So this is what true heartbreak feels like.

It fucking sucks.

Chapter Twenty-Three

MATT

Five Years Ago

“You need to get your life together, Matthew! You continue on this path and you will be alone.”

I rub my forehead, trying to soothe the drums pounding in my head. Like always, I block my mom out because quite frankly, I don’t see the big fucking deal about me going out and drinking with a couple of friends.

Mom’s rule is as long as I stay out of jail, I can have the freedom to do what I want. I’ve obeyed her rule and haven’t been arrested. If I’m too far gone, I always stay with a buddy, never driving home under the influence. I would say that I’m being a responsible son by doing what my mom asks of me and in return, per her rule, I can do what I want.

And what I want right now is for her to stop talking so I can enjoy some peace and quiet before I regroup with my friends tonight.

“Matthew Andrew Foster! Are you even listening to me?” My mom’s shrill voice fills the room.

“Yeah, mom. I hear you loud and clear. Are you done now so I can get some sleep?” I ask, standing from the couch and walking to my bedroom to finally get some rest.

“I don’t understand,” Mom says, her voice sad. I close my eyes and turn to face her.

“You don’t understand what?” I ask.

My mom’s blue eyes look at me with sadness as she answers. “I don’t understand where I went wrong with you.”

“Mom, seriously.”

“Yes, seriously! I have given you everything you ever needed, everything you ever wanted! Yet, you want to throw your life away with friends who are always up to no good, in and out of the county jail! You keep on, you’re gonna be just like them and I am not bailing your ass out of jail!” My mom turns around and stomps in the opposite direction.

I pull up to my apartment and cut the engine, but I don’t move. My knuckles grip the steering wheel, my chest hollow where Laila used to be. Everything went to shit too quickly, and I can’t blame anyone but myself. I’m the one who caused all the pain — mine and Laila’s. I let fear control me, afraid she’d leave me like my mom did. Now I’ve lost her anyway.

I need to get out of here, but Luke’s at work, and the only person I want to talk to hates me more than ever. I’ve got nowhere to go.

My phone rings. I reach for it, hoping it’s Laila.

It’s not. But this person might be the next best thing.

Twenty minutes later, I knock on the shiny red door and take a step back, waiting under the dimly lit porch. I hear a small bark from behind the door and see a silhouette walking up through the frosted glass window panes. The door creaks open and I’m met with the teary smile of my sister, holding her son, Hunter.

“Matty,” Hannah says, her voice tight holding back tears.

“Hey Han,” I say, equally emotionally.

She steps aside and extends her arm, letting me walk in. Her son bounces in her arms to try and get to me. I smile at him and look at Hannah as she happily passes her baby to me. I hold him tight to my chest and feel the tears well up in my eyes again.

“Oh, Matty,” Hannah says as she wraps her arms around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice weak.

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