I tried to avoid Matt for a while after that. I skipped a few of the gatherings I was invited to over the next few months. When I couldn't get out of attending an event, I stayed away from him, hoping he would leave me alone. Though at the same time, I missed him. He brought out a wild side of me that I hadn't even known I'd had. I craved the feel of his skin against mine, the rush of his motorcycle between my legs, the scent of his manly sweat. But like an addict trying to stay on the wagon, I did my best to avoid him.
And I did just fine until my stepfather got sick.
I rushed into the hospital late one night, clutching my jacket around myself. It was a frigid evening, and pockets of snow from earlier in the winter still covered parts of the ground. The heat of the emergency room blasted me in the face as soon as I left the cold night behind. I looked around the room, searching for my mother. She was sitting in the waiting room, clutching her hands in front of her and crying. Matt sat next to her, rubbing her back and speaking softly to her.
“What happened?” I asked as I approached them. My mother had frantically called me a short time before, telling me that my stepfather had suffered an attack, but she hadn't offered any details. She had been too upset to talk.
Matt got up and pulled me aside, giving my mother some space. “Dad had a stroke,” he said. “The doctors are with him now. But it doesn't look good.”
“Oh, Matt. I'm so sorry.” I put my arms around him and held him close. He leaned his head against my shoulder. I could feel the tension in his muscles. I could only imagine what he was going through. I didn't know what it was like to lose a parent. My own dad had walked out on us, but he was still alive, even if we barely spoke anymore.
“I'm fine,” Matt said. He clung to me as if I were the only thing keeping him from breaking down. “I've been ready for this for a while. Dad's not a young man. But it was...so sudden.”
My mind raced, trying to think about what I should do. I really didn't know Mr. Partridge very well. We'd chatted here and there, but he'd never made any real effort to get to know me. I didn't even think he'd made the effort to get to know my mother, outside of the bedroom at least. It made it hard for me to mourn for him. I felt bad, but losing him wouldn't touch me deep inside the way it would if I'd lost my own father.
But Matt was being hit hard. And I needed to comfort him.
One of the doctors came out to talk to us. She said that Mr. Partridge was conscious, and that it would be okay for my mother to go in and talk to him. But they didn't want to disturb him by having a crowd inside the room, so Matt and I would have to wait out here.
“I won't be long,” Mom said, squeezing my hands. I watched her follow the doctor back to my stepfather's room. Matt stood by my side, his back stiff and his face pale. I took his hand and squeezed it. He clung to my hand, and I could tell he was barely keeping himself from shaking.
“Come on,” I said. “Let's take a walk.”
We went out into the freezing night and walked along a footpath that wound around the hospital. The brisk movement kept us warm against the frigid wind. We didn't say anything for a while, merely letting the exercise get our blood pumping and clear our minds.
“I'm going to have to sell the company,” Matt finally said.
“Why?” I didn't know much about the Partridge family's media enterprises, only that they were one of the biggest companies out there.
He shrugged. “It's not my thing. I never cared for being a businessman. I'm sure someone out there will buy it. Maybe Disney or Warner.”
I thought about that, and figured that it was probably for the best. Matt's carefree attitude and general disdain for responsibility wouldn't lend itself to running a nationwide corporation. I couldn't imagine him wearing a suit and tie, sitting at a board meeting, and voting at stockholder conferences.
“Well, whatever you do,” I said, “I'm here for you.”
He stopped, holding me by the arm. “Do you mean that?”
I froze, looking up at him. There was something dangerous about the look in his eyes. Something thrilling.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice a tiny squeak.
And then he kissed me.
He was rough and controlling, pulling me in close. I gasped and struggled against him, but he was too strong. I let him hold me tight, let him shove his tongue into my mouth, while he hands grabbed my ass and squeezed hard. I whimpered, loving the feel of his lips against mine, while at the same time knowing this couldn't happen. I was being weak, letting him in because he was hurting, because he needed to be comforted. But I couldn't do this.
I finally pulled away. “No,” I whispered. “Not...not that.”
“You know you want it.” He held me by my arms, his grip as strong as iron. “I've seen the way you look at me. I see the way you dress. Don't act like you don't want it.”
I looked away. I wanted to say something, to reject him, but I couldn't find my voice. I think it was because I knew my words would be lies. “Please. Just stop.”
He pulled away, looking at me with disappointment. I looked up at him, trembling. I knew this wasn't over yet.
I could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant to have me. To claim me. To do whatever he pleased with me. And I knew this wouldn't end until he got what he wanted.
* * *
The funeral was three days later. It was a private event, at Matt's request. He didn't want a crowd filled with paparazzi and strangers. It was just me, my mother, and a few close friends of Matt's family.
Afterwards, Matt, Mom, and I went to the reading of the will. I had little interest in hearing how Mr. Partridge distributed his money. I was sure I wasn't getting any, and it didn't really matter. My only concern was for Matt and the future of his company. He still planned to sell everything, but doing so first required him to inherit his father's controlling shares in the company. Without those, he wouldn't have any say in the company's future.
The lawyer read through the will. It was worded simply, with only a few bits of legalese peppered throughout. It wasn't until he got to the end that my head shot up.
“And so,” the lawyer read, “I hereby leave the sum total of my estate in its entirety to my son, Matthew William Partridge.”
Mom and I both stared at Matt. Mom's jaw dropped open. “But,” she said. “But...wait. What about me? I'm his wife!”
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “The will is quite clear. Though I must tell you it was written before your marriage to Mr. Partridge. I'd been in talks with him about amending the will, but he was still uncertain how to proceed.”
“What does that mean?” Mom asked. She clutched at her purse until her fingers turned white. “What does it mean, he was uncertain?”
“What I mean,” the lawyer said, folding his hands atop the desk, “is that while I know Mr. Partridge wanted to see you taken care of, he did not want you to end up with a controlling interest in his media company. I mean no offense, ma'am, but the fact of the matter is, you were a career waitress before your marriage. Mr. Partridge couldn't give his company to you. It had to be passed to someone who understood how to manage it.”
Mom looked at Matt. Her face was white. “But...but...no. I don't care about the company. What about my money?”
“There is no money, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “Mr. Partridge hadn't yet finished setting up the trust fund he planned to leave to you. And by law, it doesn't matter what he 'planned' to do. It only matters what was written on paper. And the only completed copy of a will is this one.” He tapped the pages on his desk.
Mom continued her protests, but Matt put a hand on her knee. “Don't worry, Mom,” he said. I winced when he called her “Mom,” knowing he didn't see her as a real mother. “I'll make sure you're taken care of.”
“You will?” She looked up at him with desperate hope in her teary eyes.
Matt looked right at me, looking me dead in the eye. “Yes. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
A cold shiver worked its way up my spine.
* * *