“You got laid, didn’t you?” Jude smirked at Matthew as they walked toward the parking lot from class.
Matthew’s cheeks warmed, and even the setting sun probably didn’t hide the deepening red, but he couldn’t quite school away the grin. Staring at the ground at their feet, he shrugged.
“You dog!” Jude laughed and elbowed him. “And here I thought you’d get to wear white at your wedding.”
“Shut up.” Matthew chuckled. “Just don’t say anything, okay?”
“I won’t say anything to anybody—except you. I’m gonna say all kinds of shit to you because—”
“Because you’re an asshole.” But Matthew was laughing. His friend meant well, and it wasn’t like Matthew could hide anything from him. Besides, with as secretive as he’d had to be about Rabi, he liked being able to talk to someone about him, even if he had no intention of divulging any dirty details.
The path led them into the parking garage, and they lazily made their way down to the lowest level, where Jude liked to park to avoid door dings. This time of day, there was no one down here but them. From here, they’d go find a place to hunker down and study, so neither of them was in a particular hurry. Especially since Matthew was still dragging from the long, long night he’d spent with Rabi after the election. It had been two days, and he could still feel both the lack of sleep and how much the sex had taken out of him.
“So,” Jude said. “Any idea what your dad’s gonna do?”
Matthew winced. “Don’t know. I mean, he’s still got his seat on the city council, so there’s that, but I don’t know if he’ll try for the Senate again.”
“Maybe a state seat?” Jude glanced at him. “This district likes him, so . . .”
“Yeah, maybe. He’s got time to figure it out, though.”
“And time to cool off, am I right?” Jude’s tone was playful, but cautious.
Matthew laughed half-heartedly. “He’s gonna need it, believe me. Thanksgiving is going to be tense as—”
“Hey. You.”
Jude stopped a split second before Matthew, and had already spun around before Matthew had faced the source of the voice. Arms across his chest, Jude said, “What?”
“Not you.” The man pointed sharply at Matthew. “Him.”
Ice water trickled through Matthew’s veins. Eshaan Hashmi. Matthew recognized him from Emir’s rallies and TV commercials. Even if he hadn’t seen him, he would have instantly known this was Rabi’s brother. The eyes didn’t lie.
Matthew gulped. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” Eshaan came closer, glaring murderously at Matthew. “You want to tell me why I saw you with my brother the other night?”
Matthew’s blood turned even colder, and he swallowed hard. They’d been so careful. So discreet. How had Eshaan seen them? “What . . . Where . . .”
“Don’t play stupid, Swain,” Eshaan snarled. “What the fuck is going on between you two?”
Words failed Matthew. Hell, breath failed him. He’d been caught so off guard, he couldn’t think, not even to deny that he’d been with Rabi.
“Answer me.” Eshaan’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck has been going on between—”
“Hey. Hey. Boys.” Jude patted the air and casually inserted himself between Eshaan and Matthew. “Let’s chill with the hostility, okay? There’s no reason this can’t be worked out like mature grown-ups.”
“Stay out of this,” Eshaan growled. “This is between me and him.”
“Yeah, well, at the moment I’m between you and him.” Jude partially faced Eshaan, and smirked as he said, “So instead of bitching out here in the parking garage, why don’t we all go have a couple of beers and calm the hell down before—”
The pistol shut Jude up.
Matthew too.
Eshaan had moved so fast, it was like the weapon just materialized out of thin air. Slower now, Eshaan took a step toward Jude, and he dug the muzzle of the gun into Jude’s forehead. Jude’s head tilted back, probably straining the hell out of his neck, and his eyes were wider than Matthew had ever seen them.
For a few painfully long seconds, all three of them were completely still. Even Eshaan’s hand was unnervingly steady, the gun not wavering in the slightest.
“You done, you little punk?” he finally snarled at Jude. “Because I didn’t come here to listen to your bullshit.”
Jude said nothing. His eyes were enormous and his lips were apart, but he didn’t make a sound.
Matthew cautiously raised his hands, showing his palms, and forced his voice to stay even. “Eshaan. Eshaan, listen to me.”
The gun didn’t move, but Eshaan cut his eyes toward Matthew.
“Just listen,” Matthew said. “You know how this town is. And everyone’s tempers are running hot because nobody here wanted your dad elected.”
Eshaan narrowed his eyes at Matthew. Jude gulped.
Matthew patted the air. “Which means no one will be fair to you if you pull that trigger, and they won’t stop with you. Do you want your entire family and your community to pay for this? Is that really what you want?”
Eshaan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but the gun was still pressed firmly against Jude’s forehead.
“You want me to stay away from your brother? Fine.” Matthew hated the shakiness of his voice. “But no one needs to get hurt. Especially not him.” He nodded toward Jude. “He’s got nothing to do with this, and if you shoot him, a lot of other innocent people are going to get hurt.”
“And we both know that if anyone in your family finds out he’s sleeping with you,” Eshaan hissed, “they’re going to come after him and the rest of us.” He cut his eyes toward Matthew again. “So what’s it gonna be?”
Matthew lowered his hands, and his shoulders sank with the weight of his resignation. “You’re right. I don’t want any violence, okay? Just . . . put the gun down, and I’ll . . .” His mouth tasted sour, and he swallowed again. “I won’t see Rabi anymore. Just please don’t hurt my friend.”
Eshaan’s lips pulled tight. He forced a breath out through his flaring nostrils, making a cloud in the cold air. The image reminded Matthew of a pissed-off bull, and his stomach somersaulted as he prayed his words would find their mark before Eshaan lost what was left of his temper.
Abruptly, Eshaan lowered the gun.
Jude exhaled hard, his whole body trembling violently. He took a few stumbling steps away from Eshaan before catching himself against a car.
Eshaan turned to Matthew. “Stay away from my brother, and there won’t be any more problems. Got it?”
Matthew’s mouth had gone dry, but he nodded. “Fine. Fine. Just . . . I don’t want anybody getting killed over this, okay?”
Without a word, Eshaan tucked the gun into the holster under his jacket. Matthew shivered. He hadn’t even noticed the holster, never mind the gun sticking out of it. Everyone in town had started arming up lately. Shit, how many more arguments were going to escalate like this? Especially when a Swain crossed paths with a Hashmi?
Eshaan gave Matthew a silent look. One that underscored everything they’d just said.
Stay away from Rabi, or our next conversation will be bloody.
Then he turned and strode away, leaving Matthew standing on shaking legs while his friend trembled violently against a car.
Matthew warily watched Eshaan’s back for a second, then turned to Jude. Sweat gleamed on Jude’s dark skin, and he was taking in deep gulps of air, clutching the side mirror and the door handle for balance. The gun had dug a groove in his forehead, and an angry semicircle partially outlined where the bullet would have penetrated had Eshaan pulled the trigger.
Matthew touched Jude’s shoulder. “Hey. You all right?”
Jude whirled on him, eyes flashing with fury. “Do you realize what just happened, Matthew? Do you fucking understand?”
Matthew took a stunned step back. “What?”
Jude followed him, thumping him hard in the chest with a finger. “I don’t fucking care who you’re banging or who you’re friends with. But if it’s gonna make shit between the families escalate like this, then it’s on you—you, Matthew—to be a fucking man and do something about it.”
“Whoa, what happened to what you said before? About not getting disowned?”
“That was before someone put a fucking gun to my head, you moron!” Jude threw up his hand. “This is your family’s fault, Matthew. All of it. They’re a bunch of violent, racist fuckers, and they always have been, and you fucking know it.”
“Yes, I do, but I—”
“So how about doing something for a change? Don’t just sit back and be complacent. Because if things keep going the way they are, this is going to be a lot bigger than your dad and brothers spouting off their white supremacist bullshit. You’re the only one in that snake pit who isn’t a racist piece of shit, so you’re the only one who has a shot at stopping this before someone gets killed.”
“I . . . What can—”
“Stand up to your old man!” Jude bellowed. “For God’s sake, someone is going to get killed. Can’t you see what’s happening to Arbor Hills because the Hashmis and Swains and Muslims and Christians and Democrats and—” He threw up his hands. “How long does it go on and how fucking bloody does it get?”
“Are you really blaming me for—”
“I’m saying you, more than anyone in this godforsaken town, can do something. You need to stand up to your old man, and tell him that your whole family’s white supremacist bullshit needs to fucking stop. He hears it from his own son, you know, he might actually listen. But even if he doesn’t listen, someone needs to stand up, tell him it’s not cool.” He paused as if to let the words sink in, and when he spoke again, he was quieter. “Everyone in Arbor Hills is tired of the violence and the tension. We’re all walking on goddamned eggshells, not being able to call people out, and wondering when someone’s gonna get shot. And tonight, that was almost me. All because of a stupid rivalry, a stupid election, a stupid family full of stupid racists, and because a stupid Swain can’t keep his stupid hands off a goddamned Hashmi.”
Matthew wanted to protest that it wasn’t just because he couldn’t keep his hands off Rabi. Something about that cheapened what they had. Made it something superficial and physical instead of what it really was. But Jude’s point still stood—the election had set off both already volatile families, and the relationship Matthew had with Rabi had very nearly gotten Jude killed just now.
“Don’t just puss out and stop seeing Rabi.” Jude was almost pleading now. “If your thing with him doesn’t set off a war between your families, something else will. Be a man, Matthew. Stand up to him.” He tapped Matthew’s chest again, a little gentler than before. “Or else whatever finally sets everyone off, that blood’s gonna be on your hands for being a complacent fucking coward when you had a chance to do something.”
Matthew stared at him, disbelieving that these words were coming from his best friend’s lips.
But he couldn’t argue. He couldn’t deny a single thing Jude had said.
So he nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’ll . . . I’ll go home tonight, and I’ll take this up with my dad.”
“Good.” Jude softened, and he gave Matthew’s arm a squeeze. “You’ve got this, man.”
Matthew just hoped he was right.
Scared shitless didn’t even begin to describe Matthew as he walked into the house. Jude’s words had stuck with him, and he was bound and determined to finally stand up and be a voice of reason before this stupid feud got further out of hand.
And . . . shit. He should have texted Rabi. Or called him. Something. But he’d been so rattled and so hell-bent on doing what Jude had told him to, he’d come straight home before he lost his nerve. And anyway, he was scared Eshaan might see it. God knew what he’d do to Rabi if he did.
On the way into the house, Matthew heard male voices coming from the kitchen. Terse ones.
What little confidence he had waned. Maybe this wasn’t the time. The family was probably still reeling from the election, and tempers would be running way too hot for—
“Matthew?” Dad’s voice barked. “That you?”
Matthew gulped. “Yeah.”
“Come in the kitchen. We want to have a talk with you.”
Oh shit.
Matthew steeled himself, schooled his expression, and went into the kitchen.
Dad was leaning against the counter, a beer can in his hand, and Nate and Derek were standing on either side of him. All three stared at him, the collective intensity nearly pushing Matthew right back out of the room.
“I heard you had a bit of a confrontation at school,” Dad said flatly.
Whoa. Word traveled fast, didn’t it? Had someone seen them?
Oh God, I really need to message Rabi and—
“Give me your phone.” Dad held out his free hand.
“Huh?” Matthew glanced from one man to the next. “Why?”
“Because I pay for it and I told you to.”
Swallowing hard, Matthew still didn’t hand over the phone. “Fine. I’ll get my own plan and—”
“Cut the crap, Matthew,” he barked, making Matthew jump.
An admittedly petulant retort that he wasn’t a child anymore came to the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it. Maybe it was time to get out from under his parents’ roof—and thumbs—but there wasn’t much he could do right this second. So, stomach curdling, he held his phone out to his father, thankful he’d deleted that message to Rabi. And for that matter, that he hadn’t sent one; it would be just his luck that Rabi would respond now.
Dad took it, turned it on, then thrust the phone back into Matthew’s hands. “Put in your pass code.”
Matthew eyed it, then him. “Why?”
Dad inclined his head.
Without a word, Matthew took the phone back, entered the pass code, and held it out again.
Dad snatched it away and gave it to Derek, who immediately went to work—tapping, swiping, tapping. The room was silent except the occasional click of an app opening.
“What’s going on?” Matthew asked.
“What’s going on is I want to know who you’ve been spending all your time with,” Dad growled. “And who’s got your nose buried in this phone whenever you’re home.”
“So just ask me,” Matthew growled.
No one responded.
Then Derek said, “Who the hell is this?” He showed Matthew the screen.
Text messages. Oh fuck.
Matthew’s cheeks burned and his stomach twisted. He didn’t have to read the name or the texts to know it was a conversation with Rabi. He’d used a fake name for him, of course, but there was no hiding the flirtatious messages. Or the obvious references to the election. And their fathers.
Shit.
Dad took the phone and skimmed over the messages. Every time he scrolled, Matthew’s guts shriveled a little more. He was so, so dead. And he hadn’t even been able to give Rabi a heads-up. Oh shit. This was about to get a lot more dangerous than the confrontation in the parking garage.
Finally, Dad gave a huff of disgust and shoved the phone at Derek. “Take care of this.”
“Take care of—” Panic jolted through Matthew as Derek started thumbing a message into the phone. Matthew lunged for it, but Nate stopped him. Matthew tried to shove away from him as he asked Derek, “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of the problem.” Derek continued typing.
“Derek, don’t,” Matthew pleaded. “Wait, what are you . . . come on. If you want me to delete him, I’ll delete him, but I—”
“‘Him’?” Dad snapped. Derek’s hands stopped, and all three of them glared at Matthew. His heart hit the floor. Dad’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “What do you mean . . . ‘him’?”
Matthew’s mouth had gone dry, and he couldn’t find breath, never mind words. “I . . .”
“What do you mean ‘him,’ Matthew?” Dad asked.
And just like in that moment when Eshaan had put his pistol to Jude’s head, everyone in the room froze.
Dad’s beer can clinked quietly on the counter, and he stepped closer. “Are you telling me you’re queer after all?”
A denial came to the tip of Matthew’s tongue, but he remembered everything Jude had said. It was time to stand up and stop being a coward.
“Yes. I am.” Matthew took a deep breath, looking his father right in the eye, and he forced himself not to sound as terrified as he was. “I’m gay. All right? I’m. Gay.”
Dad’s hand came out of nowhere and connected with the side of Matthew’s face. Matthew stumbled, grabbing the back of a chair for support as his vision blurred. He couldn’t say for sure if Dad had backhanded him or hit him closed-fisted; the blow had been so unexpected and so strong, he was surprised he hadn’t gone down. His dad hadn’t laid a hand on him since he was a kid, and the shock stunned Matthew almost as much as the pain did.
Before Matthew could recover, Dad grabbed his upper arm and hauled him closer. “Pack your things and get out of my house.” His voice was made of pure ice. “I won’t have that. Not under my roof.”
All Matthew could do was nod and try not to gag on the blood in his mouth.
“What about the Hashmi?” Derek held up the phone.
Dad cut his eyes toward Matthew and seemed to consider it for a moment before he turned back to Derek. “Take care of the problem.”
“Dad, for God’s sake—”
“Enough out of you.” Dad shoved Matthew away from him and stared at him in disgust. “Out of my house.”
“But I—”
“We have talked about this, Matthew,” Dad seethed. “You have lied to me time and time again, and now you’re not only a faggot, you’re screwing a Hashmi. A fucking Hashmi. Get out of my house.”
Beside him, Derek tucked Matthew’s phone into his back pocket, grabbed his keys, and nodded sharply at Nate. “Come on.”
“Wait! Where are you going?” Matthew’s voice was strained and frantic. “Guys, what are—”
“We’ve got a Hashmi who needs to be put in his place.” Derek jerked his jacket on. “We’ll deal with you later.”
Matthew started to call after him, but Derek was already on his way out the door. Nate went to follow, and Matthew grabbed his arm. “Don’t do this. Don’t hurt him. If you guys want to beat the shit out of me for being gay, fine. But leave him alone.” He paused, briefly recalling Jude’s words, and added, “It’s not Rabi’s fault our family is a bunch of fucking racists.”
“You’ve been around that Hashmi too long.” Nate narrowed his eyes as he wrenched his elbow out of Matthew’s grasp. “You heard Derek—we’ll deal with you later.”
Dad seized Matthew by the arms, and nodded toward his older sons. “Go take care of it.”
“No!” Matthew struggled, but his father kept him in place as Nate trooped out of the house after Derek. Matthew faced his dad, trying in vain to get his arm free. “What the hell?” He fought back tears and anger and sheer terror. “Don’t you think this has gone too far? You and Emir Hashmi can hate each other all you want, but . . . Dad, for God’s sake. Do you really want someone to get hurt over this? Or killed?”
Dad’s eyes were colder than Matthew had ever seen them. “I won’t lose sleep over one less Hashmi in this town. Especially not one who’s been screwing my degenerate son.”
Outside, an engine roared.
Fresh panic surged through Matthew. “Dad, if you want me to stop seeing him, I’ll—”
“I want you out of my house,” Dad snapped.
“Then let me go.” Matthew jerked his arm, but Dad still didn’t release him. “You want me to leave, I’ll leave. Just—”
Tires squealed.
Finally, Dad shoved Matthew away, sending him stumbling a couple of steps before Matthew caught himself on the counter’s edge.
Eyes full of icy hatred, Dad repeated, “Get out.”
Matthew didn’t wait. Now that he was free, he bolted out of the house. He didn’t give a damn about being thrown out. He could deal with all of that later.
Right now, he had to get to Rabi before Nate and Derek did.