Page 20 of What Broke First (The Cheating A$$hole #1)

Matt didn’t cry. But he did scream into his steering wheel, which is basically adult male crying with less dignity.

After Sarah’s verbal uppercut, Matt drove aimlessly for twenty minutes before pulling into the parking lot of a home improvement store. He didn’t need anything. He just didn’t know where else to go.

Tyler showed up after one vague text from Matt. They hadn’t seen each other in what felt like months, and Matt knew that wasn’t by accident. Tyler had been dodging him, and Matt was finally done pretending not to notice. He needed to clear the air, or at least find someone willing to witness the wreckage.

“You disappeared,”

Matt said, tossing a screwdriver set into the cart.

“Haven’t seen you at the gym. Thought you moved or died or joined a cult.”

Tyler sipped his gas station coffee and shrugged.

“Been busy.”

Matt threw in a pack of sandpaper. Then a lemon tree. Tyler raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

he said.

“You planting emotional growth, or just hoping citrus will cancel out your sins?”

Matt gave a half-laugh.

“Little of both.”

They walked in silence for a while before Matt said.

“You going to tell me what’s actually going on, or are we just going to pretend everything’s fine?”

They walked a few more steps in silence before Tyler finally spoke.

“Alright, look... I probably should’ve said this sooner.”

Matt stopped mid-step. “What?”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t tell you this, but my girlfriend wanted to set you up with her friend. I didn’t tell you because, honestly, man, I didn’t want you around my girlfriend.”

Matt blinked.

“You think I’d try something?”

“I don’t know, man. I never thought in a million years you’d blow up what you had with Sarah. You've been going through some shit, and you're not...you.”

That landed harder than either of them expected.

Tyler continued.

“You’ve been hurting. And I get it. But I also didn’t want to find out the hard way that you’d cross a line. And I wasn’t sure where your bottom was. What you did to Sarah changed how I see you. It made me wonder what else you were capable of.”

Matt ran a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

“I know,”

Tyler said.

“It was shitty. But I am being honest. I don't want to avoid you anymore...or the gym for that matter.”

They stood there in the aisle between tile samples and shelving brackets.

Matt exhaled.

“So what now?"

Tyler shrugged.

“Well, do you want Jules to set you up with her friend, Marley? From what I understand, she's hot, smart, probably too emotionally well-adjusted for you, but she also owns a punching bag and thinks pickleball is a personality trait."

Matt shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good. Appreciate it, though. Right now, my only mission is getting Sarah back. I blew it—big time. And yeah, she’s got me crawling through glass, but honestly? I wouldn’t blame her if she told me to get lost for good.”

Tyler leaned on the cart, his voice quieter.

“Then fight for her, man. If she’s the one, don’t half-ass this. Own your shit. Keep showing up. Do the hard stuff. Because if she’s still letting you in the door, even a little, that means there’s something left. Don’t waste it.”

He paused, then added with a small grin.

“And if she does tell you to fuck off forever... you’ll know you didn’t go down easy.”

By afternoon, Matt had installed two towel racks and watered the lemon tree like it might hold him accountable.

Then the text came in.

Sarah: Thank you for the croissant. It didn’t fix anything. But it didn’t make things worse.

Was that a win? A non-loss? Either way, Matt took it like a man finding a gold coin in a pile of emotional lint.

Later that evening, he showed up at Tommy’s soccer game early.

Tommy spotted him and waved like his arm might fly off. That alone made Matt feel human again.

She showed up ten minutes later, iced coffee clutched like a lifeline and sunglasses perched just high enough to make ignoring Matt effortless. She didn’t acknowledge him at first, but she sat next to him, which in their world now qualified as a sacred truce.

“I brought orange slices,”

she said, holding up a ziplock bag.“

Nice. I brought Capri Suns. I’m still working on redeeming myself through sugar.”

She allowed a smile, thin and barely-there, but real.

“Tommy’s lucky.”

Matt looked at her.

“So was I.”

She didn’t respond. But she didn’t move away either.

By halftime, Tommy had scored a goal. Matt shouted like it was the World Cup. Sarah rolled her eyes but clapped, and for a flicker of a second, they were that couple again. The good kind. The before kind.

Then, as they were walking back to their cars, Sarah stopped.

“I have a date Saturday.”Matt froze.“With James?”

“No,”

she said.

“Someone new. Just thought you should hear it from me.”

He nodded slowly, biting back a thousand bad choices.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I promised myself no more secrets. From anyone.”

Matt wanted to scream. Or confess. Or beg. Instead, he just said.

“I hope he’s good to you.”

Sarah hesitated.

“Me too.”Then she got in her car and drove away. Matt stood there in the parking lot, holding a Capri Sun like it was a divorce decree.

Is she moving on? He nodded to himself. She must be moving on.

And he was holding on.

His phone buzzed. He checked it, half-hoping it was Sarah changing her mind.

It wasn’t.

Mom: Any update on you and Sarah?

Matt stared at the screen, jaw tightening. The timing was brutal. It was like the universe had a direct line to his humiliation and decided to share it with family.

He hadn’t told his parents everything. Not even close. They knew about the divorce, but not the specifics. Not the late-night confession. Not the woman whose name he could barely say out loud. His mom had been silent for a while. Too silent. And now, just when he was barely holding himself together, she wanted answers.

He could still picture the way she looked at him the last time he visited. Not angry. Just... disappointed. Like he was a man she didn’t recognize. Like she had raised someone better than this.

Matt sighed and rubbed his hand down his face, dragging the moment out as long as he could.

Then he typed back.

Matt: We’re just leaving Tommy’s soccer game. He scored a goal tonight.

It was true. And just misleading enough to avoid more questions. He put the phone away and sat in his car, staring at nothing.

He had been holding on. But to what?