Unloved: Chapter 48

Something is wrong.

My ears haven’t adjusted to the quiet, and the last song from the club—an acoustic, airy version of flora cash’s “You’re Somebody Else”—is still repeating in my head enough I almost started humming through our trek to the back of the lot.

Until I saw the wild, ragged look in Matt’s eyes when he spun me and lifted me into the car.

“Hey—”

His hands are clammy and shaking as he grasps my waist. I lean back, falling contentedly against the leather backseat. I want to take a minute to appreciate how delicate I feel beneath him, but I can’t. Because Matt looks devastated beneath the huffing breaths and slipping mask.

“Freddy,” I say, even as his mouth presses to mine again, his hand playing along the waistband of my skort, sliding under and making my belly drop pleasantly despite the war in my head.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I want to relax beneath him, let his touch carry me away but—this is wrong. Everything about this is wrong.

It feels… fake.

“Freddy—”

He cuts me off with a moan. “Yes, baby. Say my name.”

He trails his fingers down my now-exposed stomach, where he’s pulled the fabric of my shirt up high. My abs clench, his shaking hands fumbling with the fastenings on my high-waisted skort. But his face is pale, eyes red.

“Matt,” I snap, my stomach hurting from the gymnastics of feeling him but not really feeling . The mix of desire and worry and every confusing emotion between them is nauseating.

He pauses at hearing his name, darting his eyes to my face, pupils swallowing up all the green. The flickering streetlamp in the half-empty parking lot is the only real light. The orange glow cast upon his skin makes him seem almost ethereal.

Ethereal but broken, like a fallen angel.

There’s a moment then when he hesitates, his eyes slip, his mask falling as he locks his gaze with mine.

But as quickly as his vulnerability is there, it’s gone.

“Let me make you feel good,” Matt says, hands tightening on my hips as he licks his lips and the vulnerability that was there slips away behind the Freddy mask. “I’m good at that, at least, right?” His voice is ragged, like he’s run a marathon. “So fucking good at it. Let me show you.”

Something happened tonight that made him go back to this. And… I hate it. I want to scream and cry, because I want Matt more than anything, but not like this, never like this.

“Matt, no,” I breathe, heart breaking for him, for the boy beneath the mask who is terrified of getting hurt. “Stop.”

That’s all it takes. His body jolts back, nearly toppling over as he pulls away. Fear and embarrassment race across his face, flushed from the wind or exertion or the raging emotional turmoil—I’m not sure.

He looks almost horrified, hands up in surrender before another heavy gasp escapes from his mouth, like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating.

“I’m— Oh my . Rosalie. I’m so sorry. I don’t—”

“Hey,” I whisper, pushing awkwardly off my back as I slide out of the car to walk toward him. He trips again as he tries to put even more distance between us. “Matt—”

“I need—” He looks around desperately, and for a second I think he might run despite being half an hour from campus. “I need to go home. Can we go home?”

Pressure builds behind my eyes and ears, and I blink away the tears. I don’t want to startle or upset him further. I want him to be okay. He looks like he accidentally killed someone, not like he got a little too intense while making out.

“Yes. Do you want me to drive?”

“No.” He shakes his head, then dips his chin to his chest and wipes his eyes. “But I don’t think I can,” he whispers, voice small and broken, like a scared child.

I don’t say a word, only walking to stand beside him. I’m careful as I slide my hand into his front pocket for the keys, while I distract him with a soft kiss to his hot cheek.

“Okay, Matt. Just sit up front for a second and I can get us home.”

He settles into the passenger seat while I climb into the driver’s side and start his car.

“You’ve been drinking—”

“I had a seltzer. That’s all. I didn’t drink the one you got me before we left.”

Something I’ve said there makes him flinch, but he nods and tilts his head against the cool glass of the window, his entire body shifting away from me.

It’s a slow ride. Music plays in the background, like some sad soundtrack to the foundational breaking of Matt Fredderic. I have to clench the steering wheel to resist the urge to rub the aching pain in my heart.

I’ve barely parked in front of the Hockey House before Matt is opening the door and spilling out of the car. I follow as quickly as I safely can.

“Wait, Matt—”

“I’m sorry, Ro. I just… I need to be alone, okay?”

The front door opens, Bennett stepping out with his keys in his hand. He passes by Matt, saying something to him. He brushes the goalie off, shaking his head and whispering back.

“You said you wouldn’t push me out,” I call toward him, a little thread of panic pulling in my chest.

“Trust me, this is one thing you really don’t want to know.” Matt lets out a bitter laugh. “You’d hate me.”

He enters the house and slams the door.

Bennett walks to me, seeming exhausted and sad.

“I’ll take you home,” he says quietly.

I wipe my eyes, their burning outweighing my need to keep from smearing my mascara.

“No, you don’t have to, I can call an Uber—”

“I was already heading out. Besides…” He shrugs a little. “I’m, like, a five-star car service at this point.”

If he meant it as a joke, there isn’t even a hint of humor behind it. If anything, he sounds frustrated.

“Sorry, really, I don’t need—”

“No, no. I’m sorry. It was a bad night for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We climb into the car and his music kicks on, soft in the cabin—soothing in the way I’ve always found his presence.

He clears his throat before quietly offering, “Sometimes the people we love most hurt us the easiest, even if they don’t mean to.”

I pause, struck a little by the statement.

“And do you forgive them?”

“Yeah. At least… for her. I’ll always forgive her.” He grips the steering wheel harder. “Don’t think I could hold a grudge against her if I tried.”

The confession strikes me a little. It’s the most I’ve heard him talk, really.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why keep trying when it hurts?” I nearly choke on the words, but Bennett only grants me a sad smile, rubbing his mouth a little as he turns down South College.

“Because they’ve been disappointed by too many people,” he says. “And I won’t be one of them.” He pauses and heaves a heavy sigh. “And… she deserves it.”

Everyone who has touched Matt Fredderic has only fed that monster in his head, the one that says he isn’t good enough beyond what he can do for them.

I’ll be patient this time, because he’s hurting. Deeply—and he’s been there when I hurt, repeatedly. Matt needs someone who stays, who is willing to prove that he is worth it all. That he deserves good things in his life.