Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3) Page 13

  My casual demeanor only made Taylor more agitated, and he approached me, stopping a few feet away. “I know what I said before, but I like you.”

  “C’mon, Taylor. You barely know me.”

  He nodded, pensive. “Not for lack of trying.” He backed away and pushed through the door.

  The turn in conversation stunned me. In an effort not to screw up, I’d screwed up. My feet slogged toward the back until I heard a quiet low voice in the darkness.

  “Hey,” Chuck said from the last barstool. He took a drink from a beer can.

  “Jesus!” I squealed. “That’s the second time someone has scared the shit out of me today!”

  “Sorry,” he said simply.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yep. Just had to meet a delivery truck running late. Finally got everything put away. You know how Phaedra is about order.”

  “Where is she?” I asked, knowing she would usually be at the café to help when a truck came after-hours.

  “She’s not feeling great. I think she’s still shaken up about ole Don. His obituary was in the paper today. The funeral is on Monday. You should go.”

  “Are you guys going?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not. Phaedra was hoping you’d go with her.”

  I brushed my bangs from my eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go.”

  “She’s a little worried about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. And now, I am, too. Is that boy bleeding from you or something else?”

  I sighed and sat on the stool next to Chuck. The darkness and emptiness seemed to amplify our voices.

  “He got into a fight with his brother. They’re twins. His brother kissed me. I thought it was Taylor. Taylor punched him. The brother hit back. It’s messed up.”

  “I gather.”

  “He’s going to take me home with him sometime. To Eakins. I think.”

  Chuck crunched the empty can in his hand. “Does he know?”

  “No,” I said simply. When Chuck made a face, I raised my hands, palms out. “He doesn’t want to know.”

  “Not that you’d tell him if he did.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Falyn—”

  “I know. I know. He’s going to figure it out eventually.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say. If that’s really what you want, Phaedra and I want to help.”

  I shook my head and stood. “No.”

  “Falyn,” Chuck pleaded.

  “We’ve talked about this. You’ve already done too much. You’ve given me a job and a place to live.”

  “You barely let us do that,” he said, arching a brow.

  “Thank you for even considering it. But Taylor is the plan.”

  “He seems like a good kid.”

  I nodded.

  “And you’re a good kid. I think he probably deserves to know what he’s in for … and you probably know that, too. I’m sure that’s difficult since you’ve spent so much time not talking about it. But the fact remains the same. If he’s going to take you out there, he should probably know to hold your hand.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “You’re worried about him not knowing … not for him, but for me.”

  “It’s going to be a rough trip, kiddo.”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” I said. “I’ll sleep on it.”

  Chuck pressed his lips together. “Good idea.”

  “Night.” I trudged up the stairs. My legs felt like wet noodles, complaining every time I tried to move them.

  I wondered if Taylor was as sore as I was. Tomorrow would be even worse—for more reasons than one.

  The end of the next shift approached quiet and slow, no low roar of conversations. The only voices breaking the silence were from employees and five customers.

  “It’s almost September,” Phaedra said, scowling at the wet sidewalk and the raindrops streaking down the front windows. “Why in the frickity frack is it raining so much?”

  Chuck shook his head. He was caught up with the entrees, having the rare opportunity to venture out into the dining area during dinner hours. “We need the rain, remember, honey?”

  Phaedra sighed and headed for the back. “I’m going to make some pies. Kirby, go home.”

  Kirby huffed in defeat, pulling at her apron strings. “Good thing I have my car back.” She grabbed her keys and purse before leaving out the front door.

  I plodded behind the bar, looking for something to clean.

  “Falyn?” Kirby called.

  “Yeah?” As soon as I looked up, I swallowed back the rising panic.

  Kirby was standing in front of her hostess podium with Taylor.

  “Hey, Tay,” I said.

  Taylor laughed once, a dozen emotions scrolling over his face, none of them amusement. “Hey, Ivy League.”

  I noticed one strap over his shoulder. “What’s with the backpack?”

  He set the pack on a stool toward the center of the bar.

  “I brought you something.” After a short pause, he tugged on the zipper, pulled out a small white sack, and set it on the bar.

  “A present?” I said, trying not to show my nervousness.

  “Don’t open it until I leave.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Not work.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s raining, Falyn. We’re dragging up.”

  I made a face. “I don’t speak hotshot. What does that mean?”

  “There’s enough moisture on the ground that the local guys can handle the area. I’m leaving.”

  “But … you said you were here until October.”

  He shrugged, defeat on his face. “I can’t stop the rain.”

  I stared at him, speechless. The passing rain clouds were becoming night clouds, darkening the sky.

  “Don’t give me any shit about your present, okay? For once in your life, don’t be a huge pain in the ass.”

  “Whatever you say,” I said, deflated.

  “Whatever I say?” he said, blinking.

  “I guess I’ll see you around.” I pulled the sack off the counter and put it behind the bar.

  “Falyn—”

  “It’s fine,” I said, inexplicably scrubbing the bar with a dry cloth.

  He sighed. “We’re not doing the stupid misunderstanding thing. I’m coming back. We’re going to do what we said we’d do.”

  “Mmkay.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said, his shoulders falling.

  I stopped scrubbing and painted on a smile. “If we do, great. If not, I’ll figure it out. I’m not your responsibility.”

  He narrowed his eyes and zipped his backpack closed before slinging it over his shoulder. “You’re going to miss me.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’re pissed because you’re going to miss me like hell.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and continuing to not clean the counter with the cloth in quick circles. “That would be a total waste of time.”

  “Stop being a hard-ass,” he quipped. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  My quick circles slowed.

  “That’s why I’m coming back next weekend to get you. To take you home. My home. To Eakins.”

  “What?” I looked up at him, my eyes instantly glossing over.

  “I wanted to leave tomorrow, but Chuck said the funeral—”

  “Next weekend?” Tears spilled over onto my cheeks in twin streams.

  Taylor’s expression changed from smug to desperation. “We can go tomorrow. I just thought—”

  “No,” I said, wiping my face. “No, next weekend is perfect. But”—I pointed at him—“don’t promise.”

  He shook his head. “Fuck no, I’m not promising. I’ll promise not to if you want.”

  I climbed over the counter and jumped on him, throwing my arms and legs around him. “Thank you!” I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Taylor chuckled, trying
to cover his surprise. His hand settled on the back of my hair, and he pressed his cheek against mine. “I’ll see you in a week.”

  I relaxed my grip on him, and he lowered me to the floor. Out of pure excitement, I slid my hands between his sides and his arms, and I clasped my fingers together, squeezing him. “You make it really hard not to get my hopes up.”

  “If I disappointed you, I think Phaedra would murder me—right after Chuck slit my throat.”

  I glanced over to Chuck, who was holding a knife to his own throat and pretending to slice it, not at all teasing.

  Taylor leaned over after I released my hold on him, and he kissed my cheek before backing away. “There’s a phone in that sack. My number’s already in it. Text me your travel info, so I can book the tickets.”

  I quickly looked back at the bar. “Are you …” My breath caught. “You’re killing me.”

  “Don’t call me Tay. Ever again. Or the deal’s off.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t even call you an asshole behind your back.”

  Reluctantly, he continued toward the door, adjusting the backpack. “Send nudes!” he called back, flashing the peace sign before pushing his way out to the sidewalk.

  I looked to Chuck and Phaedra. “I don’t even understand life right now. What is going on?”

  I ran around the counter and scrambled for the sack before tearing the phone from beneath the layers of tissue paper. I was fairly certain the three bare asses on the wallpaper belonged to Taylor, Dalton, and Zeke even though all three men’s faces were obscured as they were slightly bent while they mooned the camera.

  I choked back tears and covered my mouth.

  “Who does that?” I asked to no one in particular. I looked to Phaedra, who had tears in her eyes, too. “I’m going. Next weekend, I’ll be in Eakins.”

  “I’m happy for you, honey,” Phaedra said, holding out her arms as she walked toward me. Squeezing me tight, she patted my back. “But if he follows through on his promise, there won’t be enough of him left for Chuck to slice after I’m through with him.”

  She let go of me, and the phone in my hand buzzed. The name on the screen read, TAYLORBEAST. I swiped the screen over and read the text.

  Stop missing me. It’s embarrassing.

  I shook my head and slid the phone into my apron. I would return it the moment we were back from Eakins, but his kindness was overwhelming.

  For the rest of my shift, it was impossible not to be distracted by images of rolling into town and realizing my own atonement—from a respectable distance—without anyone being the wiser. I’d dreamed about it for so long, and knowing it was just a week away was almost unbearable.

  Closing up might take twice as long without Kirby there to help, but we were so slow that I started well before Phaedra flipped the sign and locked the door.

  I counted my tips and separated them out for Kirby, locking her portion in the cash register, and then I headed upstairs, waving to Pete and Hector as I passed.

  Falling onto my couch, I pulled my new phone from my apron and held it in front of me with both hands. Taylor had sent more texts.

  Well crap. Now I miss you. Thanks for being a bad influence.

  What time do you get off?

  Just text me when you’re off.

  Waiting sucks.

  With my thumbs, I typed on the touch screen.

  I hope you weren’t driving.

  Immediately, three dots appeared, having their own little dance party on the screen.

  What the heck does that mean?

  Then a message popped up.

  Nah, I let Dalton drive.

  Oh. It means he’s typing.

  I typed again, wondering if he could tell that I was replying.

  Everyone home safe and sound then?

  Yep.

  I wasn’t sure what to say after that. It had been a long time since I communicated with someone via a phone screen. I was out of practice.

  The phone clunked against the coffee table when I set it down, and I decided on venturing out to the thrift store soon to see if they had phone cases. I’d never checked before. Maybe Kirby had an old one I could use.

  The phone buzzed again.

  What is your travel info?

  You’re booking now?

  As good a time as any.

  Are you sure?

  Yep.

  I typed in my full name and birth date.

  Imogene? That’s the worst middle name ever.

  ?

  I can’t spell that.

  You just did.

  Always making things difficult.

  You can thank my mother for that. What’s your middle name?

  Dean.

  Easy enough.

  That’s what all the girls say. Will book tonight.

  I put the phone on the table again and then settled back against the couch, propping my legs on the throw pillow. I was getting text messages on a cell phone, and I was going to Eakins, Illinois, in a few days. My life had felt completely different before, and even though it was scary, I’d known it was for the best, and this felt the same.

  The room was quiet with muted throbs of bass coming from Cowboys down the block. I thought of Taylor Dean two-stepping, hiking, watching VHS tapes, and doing laundry. I thought about how wonderful life could be if I could add closure to it all.

  Just as I began to relax, someone pounded on the door. I jumped up and yanked the door open.

  Gunnar stood in the hall, his face red and blotchy, his eyes glistening in the dim light.

  My mouth fell open. “Whoa. Are you all right? Where’s Kirby? How did you get in?”

  “Kirby showed me where they keep the spare key. She won’t talk to me, Falyn. I really messed up this time.”

  “What?”

  I watched him as he passed by me and sat in the chair. He put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

  I closed the door behind me. “What happened?”

  He shook his head. “She thinks I’m cheating on her. I tried to explain, but she won’t listen to me.”

  I walked across the room, my arms crossed over my middle.

  He looked up at me, desperate. “Will you talk to her for me?”

  “Sure—as soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

  His eyes fell to the floor. “I lied to her.”

  “About what?”

  “Why I’m always late. It’s not because of traffic. I’m only taking ten hours, and I’ve been working evenings at the school for extra cash.”

  I shrugged, eyeing him. “Why didn’t you just tell her?”

  “She wouldn’t like it.”

  “What’s the job?”

  “It’s cash under the table. I’m helping a guy with maintenance on a building just off-campus—trash, lawn, paint, fixing things.”

  “Okay. Why did you keep that from Kirby?”

  He swallowed. “Because it’s for the Delta Gamma sorority house.”

  Unable to keep the laughter from barreling out of my mouth, I pinched my lips together with my fingers.

  “I’ve dug a deep hole here, Falyn. I need your help.”

  “How am I going to help you? And since when does the UCCS sororities have houses?”

  “It’s in Boulder,” he said, looking exhausted.

  “You’re driving an hour and a half to Boulder every day for work? Why?”

  “Because it’s half an hour from Denver, and I wanted to get a closer job for when we move. The opportunity came up, and I took it.”

  I chuckled. “I bet you did.”

  Kirby and I were close, but nothing I said would make her ignore the facts.

  “It’s not funny, Falyn. It’s good money, but she’s not going to believe me. Please tell her. You know I love her. You know I wouldn’t cheat on her. She knows it, too. She’s just mad.”

  “She also knows you lied.”

  His shoulders sagged. “She’s going to dump me over something stupid.” He looked u
p at me with the most pitiful expression. “Please?”

  “I’ll talk to her, but I’m not going to promise you anything.”

  Gunnar nodded and stood before trudging to the door. He twisted the knob, opening the door just a few inches, before he turned to me. “I would never cheat on her, Falyn. She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved.”

  “Now that, I believe.”

  He opened the door the rest of the way, revealing a wet-faced Kirby standing in the hall, holding a bottle of wine.

  Gunnar’s breath caught.

  Kirby’s bottom lip quivered.

  “I just … I didn’t know what else to do,” he said.

  Kirby threw her arms around him, still holding the bottle. Gunnar lifted her off the floor to keep from bending so far down. He tightly held her, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

  “You’re so dumb!”

  “I know,” he said.

  She leaned back to look him in the eyes and sniffed. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t. This scared me straight.”

  She kissed his lips, holding the bottle out to me. “I brought this to share.”

  I grabbed it from her. “You’re not old enough to drink.”

  “I was upset. I snuck it from my mom’s cabinet.”

  She looked at Gunnar, and they practically mauled each other again.

  “Take it somewhere else.” I pushed Gunnar far enough into the hall, so I could shut the door.

  I leaned against the side of the refrigerator and chuckled, looking down at the wine bottle in my hand. Even when they were annoying and dramatic, they were cute.

  “Well,” I said to no one, “at least I’ll sleep well tonight.” I was alone. It was safe to enjoy a glass or two.

  I screwed off the lid and poured the white moscato into a glass, bringing the bottle with me to bed. It tasted exactly like a twelve-dollar bottle of wine should, too warm and too sweet, but it would do.

  I finished off the glass within five minutes and poured another, filling it to the top this time.

  Ten minutes later, that was gone, too, and I was pouring another.

  So much for only two glasses.

  I plugged the phone into the wall and set it on my nightstand, and then I stripped down to nothing before crawling into bed. One of the many good points about living alone was sleeping naked without a second thought.

  The sheets brushed against my skin as I spread out beneath them and relaxed onto my down pillow.