Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3) Page 11

  Taylor handed it back to me. “Those are Shane and Liza’s kids. How do you know them?”

  I shook my head and wiped a tear that had escaped down my cheek. “It’s not important. What is important is that you believe my reason for wanting to get to Eakins has nothing to do with your brother.”

  “Falyn, it’s not that I don’t believe you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again. “It’s just … Shane and Liza are neighbors and family friends. They’ve been through a lot.”

  “I get it,” I said softly, trying to quell the frustration welling up inside of me. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  Taylor’s face seemed to be weighed down with guilt. He started to reach out to me but didn’t. “Just … give me a second. I thought you were undercover or something, to get info on my brother. This is a lot to wrap my head around.” He hesitated. “What do you plan to do?”

  “I …” I took a deep breath. “I’m not really sure. I don’t want to cause their family any more pain. I just know I want to start over, and I can’t do that unless my story with that family ends.”

  Taylor blanched and then looked away. “You don’t have to say anymore. It’s all starting to make sense now—why you don’t drive, why you’ve started all over here, away from your family.”

  “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong,” I said, shaking my head. I put the envelope and picture away in the shoebox and closed the lid.

  Taylor watched me and then touched my cheek. I recoiled.

  “Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. His eyes gave away his frustration—not with me, but with himself.

  “You’d be doing me a huge favor, and I’m willing to do almost anything to get to Eakins.”

  He sighed, unable to hide his disappointment. “You have priorities. I can appreciate that. God knows I’ve left plenty of girls behind because of what I wanted.”

  “Which was what?”

  His mouth pulled to one side. “To be the hero.”

  “Look, I haven’t been honest with you. I wish I had been, now that I know you.”

  “Now that you know me?” he repeated.

  “I know it’s in your nature, but I don’t need you to save me. I just need a little help to save myself.”

  He breathed out a laugh and looked away. “Don’t we all?” He swallowed and then nodded. “Okay then.”

  I sat up. “Okay what?”

  “After my tour here, I’m going to take you back with me.”

  “Are you serious?” I sniffed.

  The skin around his eyes tightened as he thought about what he was going to say. “If you promise to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want them to be hurt either. We can’t show up and interrupt their lives.”

  “That’s not what I want.”

  He stared at me and then dipped his head once, satisfied that I was telling the truth.

  “Taylor”—I felt my eyes filling with tears again—“are you screwing with me? You’re really going to let me come with you?”

  He scanned over my face. “I have one more condition.”

  My face fell. Of course, there was a catch. This was the part where he was going to ask for sex. He’d already said he didn’t want a relationship, and that was the only thing I had to offer.

  “What?” I said through my teeth.

  “I wanna hike Barr Trail up Pikes Peak. None of the guys will go up with me.”

  I puffed out a breath of relief. “Pikes Peak. That’s your condition?”

  He shrugged. “I know you’ve hiked it before. A few times.”

  “I’m probably one of the few locals who has.”

  “Exactly. Will you hike it with me?”

  “Really?” I wrinkled my nose, dubious.

  He looked around, confused. “Is that stupid?”

  I shook my head. “No.” I threw my arms around him and squeezed, pressing my cheek against his. His skin was soft, except for the stubbly parts. “It’s perfectly reasonable.”

  His arms snaked around me, his muscles tense. “Not really. You don’t know how much hell my brothers are going to give me for bringing a girl home—especially a girl I’m not fucking.”

  I pulled back, looking at him. “I’m the first girl you’ll be bringing home?”

  “Yeah,” he said, frowning.

  “We’ll just tell them that we’re friends. No big deal.” I lay back against him, nestling into his side.

  He pulled the blanket up and around me. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh, “I’m going to end up punching one of my brothers over this.”

  “What? Like it’d be the first time?” I teased.

  He poked me in the ribs, and I squealed. The sound made him cackle.

  He quieted. “I’m sorry … about what happened to you. And I’m sorry about Don. I tried. I saw the look on your face. I didn’t want you to lose him.”

  “He was a good Papa,” I said, leaning my head back against his shoulder.

  “Nope. No more seats left on the Cog Rail,” I said, glancing down at Taylor.

  He was bent at the waist, grabbing his knees.

  “Look,” I said.

  The peaks and valleys below us were spread out for miles under a blanket of green that turned bluish farther out. We were above the clouds. We were above everything.

  Taylor took a swig from his canteen and then let it fall to his hip from the thick green strap hanging from his shoulder and across his chest. He pulled the black fleece pullover over his head that he’d had tied around his waist for most of the climb, and then he returned his Oakley sunglasses back over his eyes.

  “It’s gorgeous, but so was Lightning Point.” He turned toward the building behind us. “There’s a fucking gift shop up here? Really?” His breath was still labored, so he took another drink of water. “A gift shop and no way down.”

  “And a restaurant. I thought you interagency guys were supposed to be in shape?”

  “I’m in shape,” he said, standing a bit taller. “Almost thirteen miles of uphill rocky terrain, breathing thinner air, isn’t part of my daily workout.”

  “Maybe you should quit smoking,” I said, arching an eyebrow.

  “Maybe you should start.”

  “It’s bad for you.”

  “So is that energy bar full of high-fructose corn syrup and saturated fat you ate an hour ago.”

  I pointed at a gray-haired gentleman posing with his wife at the Summit Point sign. “He’s not whining.”

  Taylor’s face screwed into disgust. “He probably drove up here.” He put his hands on his hips and took in the landscape. “Wow.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  Both times that I’d hiked Barr Trail were with my parents, and we were some of the only locals who had hiked the Peak once, much less twice. My parents were always passionate about seizing opportunities, and failing to hike a famous trail that was practically in our backyard when hundreds of thousands would travel to experience it would have most certainly been a missed opportunity.

  That was back when I had been their Falyn—the girl they felt died the night they’d found me in the bathroom, crouched and sweaty, praying for help I couldn’t ask for. But the Falyn they had known didn’t die. She never existed, and that was probably what was so hard for them to accept—that they’d never known me at all. Now, they never would.

  Taylor and I ambled about the summit. People were talking, but it was quiet. There was too much space to fill with voices. Taylor took pictures of us with his cell phone, and then he asked the older couple we’d spoken about before to take our photo at the summit sign.

  “You’ve got to get a cell phone,” Taylor said. “Why not just get one of those pay-as-you-go phones?”

  “I save all my money that doesn’t go to bills.”

  “But think about all the pictures you’ve been missing out on.” He held up his phone. “I’m holding these hostage.”

  I shrugged. “People have forgotten to use their memories. They look a
t life through the lens of a camera or the screen of a cell phone instead of remembering how it looks, how it smells”—I took a deep breath through my nose—“how it sounds”—my voice echoed over the smaller peaks below—“how it feels.” I reached out to touch his upper arm.

  Something familiar sparked in his eyes, and I pulled away, stuffing my hands in the front pouch of my hoodie.

  “Those are the kinds of things I want to keep, not a photograph.”

  “When we’re their age,” Taylor said, gesturing to the older couple, “you’ll be glad we have the photograph.”

  I tried not to smile. He probably didn’t mean it the way it sounded to me.

  Taylor kicked at my foot. “It was a good day. Thanks for riding my ass all the way up.”

  “I knew you could do it.”

  “I’m just glad I did it with you.”

  We locked eyes for an indeterminate amount of time. I knew I should look away, that it was awkward and weird that we were just staring at each other, yet I couldn’t seem to find the desire to look at anything else.

  He took a step. “Falyn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Today wasn’t just good. It might be my best day so far.”

  “Like … ever?”

  He thought for a moment. “What if I said yes?”

  I blinked, gripping the strap of my backpack. “We’d better head down.”

  Disappointment came over Taylor’s face. “That’s it? I tell you that you’re my best day, and all you can say to me is, Let’s go?”

  I fidgeted. “Well … I didn’t bring a tent. Did you?”

  He stared at me in disbelief and then lifted up his hands, exasperated. “Maybe we can hitch a ride from the Summit House employees?”

  I shook my head. “No, but we can hitch from there,” I said, pointing toward the highway.

  “Hitchhike?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  Taylor chuckled as he followed me out to the road. We walked a good fifty yards with our thumbs out until a red minivan pulled over. The driver appeared, looking just as surprised as I felt.

  “Corinne!” I said, recognizing Kirby’s mother. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Picking up Kostas,” she said simply.

  Kirby’s teenage brother leaned forward, his eyes scanning me and then Taylor. The skin below the American flag bandana covering most of his forehead was smudged with dirt.

  “Hi, Kostas,” I said.

  “Hey, Falyn.” His eyes returned to the screen of the Nintendo 3DS in his hands, and he leaned back against his reclined seat, his dirty feet on the dash.

  “We just need a ride to the trail head. His truck is parked there.”

  “Get in,” Corinne insisted, waving us inside. “It’s going to rain any minute!”

  Taylor followed me into the back of the van.

  The moment the tires were in motion, Corinne was full of questions. “Kirby told me you had a new friend.” She looked at Taylor in the rearview mirror as if a wild animal were in her backseat. “She was kidding that he’s a hotshot, right?”

  “No,” I said, clearing my throat.

  The corners of Taylor’s mouth turned up, but he managed to suppress a full smile.

  Corinne targeted Taylor again and then looked forward, both hands on the wheel. “Apapa, Falyn,” she scolded with a perfect Greek accent. “What would your mother say?” Her words were free of any accent at all.

  “A lot probably.”

  Corinne clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval. “Where is he from?”

  “Illinois,” Taylor said.

  Corinne was unhappy that he had addressed her, so her questions ceased. She slowed in the parking lot, and we directed her toward Taylor’s truck. She twisted around to watch us exit the van, glaring at Taylor as if she were trying to cast some sort of Greek curse on him with her eyes.

  “Thanks, Corinne,” I said. “Bye, Kostas.”

  “Later,” he said, still concentrating on his game.

  Corinne pulled away, scowling at Taylor, until she decided it was time to watch the road.

  Taylor pressed the keyless entry, and I pulled open the door and climbed in, waiting for him to slide in next to me.

  “Who was she?” Taylor asked, peeling off his pullover. His T-shirt inched up as he did so, revealing two of his lower abs.

  There has to be four more to go along with them and that gorgeous V leading down to his—

  Stop.

  “That would be Corinne,” I said, blinking, “Kirby’s mother.”

  “Was she speaking English?”

  “She’s Greek. Kirby’s dad was Canadian, I think. Corinne wanted to name her Circe, after a Greek witch. The dad nixed it, thankfully. Kirby was the compromise.”

  “Way to stick to your guns, Canada. Where is he now?”

  I shrugged. “All Kirby knows is that he was a hotshot.” I left Taylor with that thought, saying nothing else.

  We rode down most of the eight thousand feet from Pikes to the Springs in silence. Taylor turned onto Tejon Street before parking his black behemoth directly in front of Bucksaw’s entrance.

  He climbed out, waiting for me to do the same. Just as my feet touched the asphalt, the sky opened up, and rain began to pour. We ran inside, laughing from exhaustion, surprise, and the embarrassment that had come from Corinne.

  Our chuckling died down, an awkward silence becoming the uninvited third presence in the room.

  “I’m not bullshitting you,” Taylor said. “Is that what your deal is?”

  “I don’t have a deal. What are you talking about?”

  “Thank you, Taylor. You’re my best day, too, Taylor. I’m hopelessly in love with your preciously sculpted abs, Taylor,” he said, pulling up his shirt to reveal the best thing I’d seen in a while.

  I pressed my lips together, stifling a smile. “Are you really still stuck on that? Are you going to cry? Do you need a hug?” I batted my eyelashes and jutted out my bottom lip. He didn’t offer any reaction, so I gave in with a sigh. “It was a good day. I sincerely enjoyed every second of it.”

  “Wow. Don’t hurt yourself, Ivy League.”

  I rolled my eyes and headed for the stairs.

  “Hey, we’re not finished,” Taylor said.

  “Then come up,” I said.

  He followed me, and by the time he had closed the loft door behind him, I was closing the bathroom door behind me.

  “I’m going to wash the mountain off of me,” I called.

  “I’m next!”

  Before my hair was fully wet, Taylor was pounding on the door. “Falyn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My brother just texted me. He’s in town.”

  “Which one?” I asked, ducking my head under the water.

  “Does it matter?” he asked.

  “I guess not.”

  “Tyler, third oldest,” he said.

  I could almost hear him smiling.

  “He’s at the hotel now.”

  “Did you not know he was coming?”

  “No. We drop in on each other, unannounced, frequently. Wanna come?”

  “To the hotel?”

  “To Cowboys.”

  “Not really.”

  “Aw, c’mon. You had fun last time, didn’t you?”

  “I think I’ll just stay here.”

  The door creaked as it opened, and I immediately grabbed the shower curtain, peeking out from behind it.

  Taylor crossed his arms over his chest, his inked biceps looking even bigger from lying on top of his fists. “Can I come in? I hate talking to you through the door.”

  “Whatever.”

  He slumped his shoulders as he let his arms fall to his sides. “I want you to come. I want you to meet my brother.”

  “Why?”

  He frowned. “What is the big deal? You’re going to meet him eventually.”

  “Exactly.”

  “He’s my roommate in Estes Park.”


  “So?”

  “So … nothing,” he growled, exasperated. “Never mind.” He opened the door, but he didn’t leave. He slammed it shut and flipped around, a scowl on his face. “Quit it.”

  “Quit what? I’m just trying to take a shower!”

  “Being so … impervious.”

  “Impervious? That’s a big word for you.”

  “Fuck off.” He opened the door and slammed it behind him.

  Not two seconds later, it opened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “Get out of my bathroom.”

  “Okay,” he said. He was comically overwhelmed, looking back at me and at the same time reaching for the knob, missing a few times.

  “Get out,” I snapped.

  “I’m … going.” He finally opened the door and closed it behind him.

  I heard the front door slam.

  I touched my fingers to my mouth, suppressing the giggle that was desperately attempting to bubble to the surface. I hadn’t giggled in a very long time.

  The hair dryer made a high-pitched whine loud enough to cover the sounds of Kirby letting herself in. When I saw her standing in the bathroom doorway, I yelped.

  She lifted her leg and cowered, her hair and hands covering her face. Once she recovered, she stood up, her fingers balled into fists at her sides. “Why are you screaming at me?”

  I switched off the hair dryer. “Why are you sneaking into my bathroom?”

  She rolled her eyes, smoothing her hair back. “I knocked.”

  “What are you doing here?” I said, exasperated.

  She pointed to her apron. “I just got off work. I came to check on you.”

  “Phaedra checked on me half an hour ago. I’m fine,” I said, turning to brush out the tangles in my hair. From the mirror, I watched her cross her arms, pouting.

  “Gunnar’s late again. You don’t think he’s messing around, do you?”

  I turned to her, the brush still in my hand. “No. No way. He worships you.”

  She leaned against the doorjamb. “I know, but we all have our moments. And he’s a guy.” Her eyes widened with her last word.

  “That’s no excuse. But Gunnar doesn’t need one. He’s not cheating.”