Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3) Read online

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’d say you were trying to change the subject. Just because I don’t expect you to keep your promises doesn’t mean you also get to lie to me.”

  He didn’t take his eyes from mine. “I am. I’m lying to you. And I’ll lie to anyone asking questions.”

  “You could go to jail.”

  “I could go to prison.”

  I pressed my lips together and then exhaled, letting the air fill my cheeks before it escaped. “You’re testing me. You still think I’m a spy or something.”

  “I would go to prison for Travis. I just want you to know that if it came to that, we’d all go down for him, even his wife.”

  “I believe you. But I’m on your side.”

  Taylor’s eyes fell to my lips, and he leaned in.

  I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on my face. I wanted nothing more than to let him envelop me like a blanket, feeling him against every inch of me.

  “Maybe we should wait,” I whispered against his mouth. “We’re so close.”

  “Exactly,” he said before pressing his lips against mine.

  My lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Every nerve sizzled under my skin. Begging to be touched by him, my body reacted exactly the opposite of when Tyler had kissed me, when I’d felt nothing. There was no disappointment, no disenchantment. Taylor’s soft lips and the way he tugged at me as if he couldn’t stand being even an inch away from me another minute made me feel everything, all at once, and I wanted more.

  A chime came over the PA system, bringing me back to reality, and Taylor pulled away, breathing hard.

  “Sorry,” he said, glancing at the people sitting across from us.

  The two men seated across the aisle were shamelessly staring.

  I sank back into my seat.

  “You felt that, right?” Taylor said, keeping his voice low.

  I looked up at him. “Promise you’ll never do that again.”

  A grin slowly stretched across his face. “You have my word.”

  Taylor pulled the rental we’d obtained at the airport into his father’s drive. He’d talked most of the way—about his job, the places he’d traveled, his brothers, his cousin, and what he knew of Travis’s new wife.

  I barely noticed Taylor’s father’s house. My eyes were trained on the next plot over, the ranch-style brick home set a good thirty yards from the street, its long driveway empty.

  Taylor and I had arrived around dinnertime. I watched the sun sinking all the way to the horizon instead of seeing its lights burning out behind a mountain peak. That struck me as a beautiful oddity.

  “Home, sweet home,” Taylor said, opening his door. “And there he is.”

  I tore my eyes away from the neighbor’s house long enough to see an older gentleman stepping outside.

  “Is that your dad?” I asked.

  Taylor nodded, smiling at the stout white-haired man waving at us from the porch. It was then when I noticed Taylor had parked the rental behind a silver Toyota Camry, and a young couple stepped out from behind Taylor’s father. The woman was holding a small black dog, and the man looked so much like Taylor that, for a moment, I wondered if he were his twin.

  Taylor pulled our bags from the backseat, and then we made our way up the steps. He hugged his father and then whom I assumed to be his brother since they looked so much alike.

  “Falyn, this is my dad, Jim Maddox.”

  Jim reached for my hand, and I took it.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  He had the kindest eyes I’d ever seen, next to Chuck and Phaedra. They were patient and a bit excited and curious, too.

  “This is my brother Travis and my sister-in-law, Abby.”

  I shook Travis’s hand and then Abby’s. Her long caramel hair cascaded over her shoulders, much like mine. She was shorter than me, and Travis was taller than Taylor. Travis was smiling, happy simply to meet me, but Abby closely watched me, taking in every detail, likely wondering what was special about me that had led Taylor to bring me home.

  “Well, it’s getting late. Let’s get you settled in,” Jim said.

  The screen door complained as he pulled it open, and I followed Taylor inside.

  The home was well worn. The carpets looked a lot like mine, and the furniture was so old that each piece had its own story to tell. The hallway opened up into the kitchen with a set of stairs on the other side.

  “You two can take Thomas’s room,” Jim said. “We’ll see you back down here for dinner. Abby and Trav cooked.”

  Taylor arched a brow. “Should I be afraid?”

  Abby batted at his arm.

  “All right,” Taylor said. “We’ll put our stuff away and see you in a second. Where’s Trent?”

  “Chicken Joe’s tonight,” Jim said.

  “He’s still doing that, huh?” Taylor said, glancing at me for half a second.

  “Just about once a week now,” Jim said.

  Travis and Abby left us for the kitchen, and Taylor took my hand, guiding me up the stairs and down another hall. He stopped at the last door on the right and twisted the knob, pushing through.

  Taylor set the bag down on a loose board, making it creak and reveal itself beneath the carpet.

  I hadn’t stayed over with friends very often as a child, and leaving for college had been difficult. Moving in above the Bucksaw had been a relief but also stressful. I never did well in foreign places, but the disrepair and decades-old furniture and wallpaper felt like a place I could call home.

  My palm fell flat against my forehead. “I can’t believe I’m here. They’re just next door.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here either,” Taylor said, reverence in his voice.

  The bedroom was decorated with plastic sports trophies, medals, old pictures, and a blanket of dust. The whole house smelled of dinner, stale smoke, and a hint of men’s aftershave.

  I took a step toward the wall, the setting sun glinting off a portrait of a very young Jim and Taylor’s mother, Diane.

  “Where is she?” I asked, turning to him. “Your mom.”

  Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s … not here. She passed away when I was a kid.”

  My mouth fell open, and I snapped it shut. “Why haven’t you told me?”

  “It hasn’t come up.”

  “It sure as hell has—at least twice. All that talk about trusting each other, and you failed to mention that you grew up without a mother?”

  Taylor let his hand fall to his thigh. “I don’t like to talk about it. It’s kind of like the twin thing. People see me differently when they know.”

  “Who gives two fucks and a shit about someone who might think less of you because your mother died?”

  He laughed once.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “You should have told me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  He stared at me, hurt. “Really? We’re going to hinge our friendship on sharing? Because I only have a vague idea of why you’re here.”

  “Was it an accident?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Cancer.”

  “Jesus. That’s awful.”

  He pointed at me. “That look on your face right now is why I didn’t tell you.” He began unpacking our things, pulling them out of the bags as if he hated them.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t ask your dad where she was. I would never have forgiven you.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t think about that. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  “I should tell you one more thing,” he said.

  I braced for it, crossing my arms over my middle.

  “My dad doesn’t know what I do. He made us promise a long time ago that we wouldn’t go into a line of work that could put us into danger. He was in law enforcement, and Mom asked him to give it up before she passed. It’s kind of a pact we made with each other.”

  “So,
you applied for a hotshot crew?” I asked in disbelief.

  “No. While we’re here, Tyler and I sell insurance.”

  I laughed, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

  “No.”

  “What does Tyler do?”

  “Forest Service, like me.”

  My mouth hung open. “He’s a hotshot, too?”

  “Yeah. He’s usually on different shifts. Just don’t mention it, okay? I don’t want to upset Dad.”

  “You all have a pact to be safe, but your baby brother fought in an underground fight, and you and your twin fight wildfires. What is Thomas? A spy?”

  “No, he’s an ad exec in California. He’s a type-A personality, always doing what he’s supposed to do.”

  “At least one of you is.”

  He held out his hand. “We should probably go back down.”

  I stared at his outstretched fingers and then shook my head. “I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.”

  A deep line formed between his brows, and his cheeks flushed red. “Give me a fucking break, Falyn. You’re here. Can we stop playing the game?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He took a step toward me. “I’m done pretending that you didn’t say what you said.”

  “What?” I squawked.

  “On the phone the other night. Granted, you were drunk, but … this isn’t just me. I’m not alone in this.”

  Taylor’s family’s laughter floated up the stairs and down the hall to where we stood.

  “You’re right,” I said.

  Taylor expectantly stared at me.

  “We should go downstairs.”

  The scowl on his face made me wince. He opened the door, waiting for me to lead the way.

  Travis was standing behind Abby at the stove, his arms wrapped around her, bending over to nuzzle her neck.

  “Can I help with something?” I asked.

  They both stopped their giggling and swaying back and forth long enough to look at me, making me regret the interruption.

  With the fork in her hand, Abby pointed at a stack of brown glass plates. “If you’d like, you can set the table.”

  Taylor passed me and picked up the plates, gesturing with his head for me to follow. I grabbed the silverware and trailed behind him into the next room where Jim sat alone.

  Taylor set a plate in front of his dad, and I placed Jim’s knife and fork down. Abby hadn’t set out spoons, but I didn’t imagine a soup course would be served. Any home where I felt I belonged wouldn’t have courses—or maids or life-changing selfish agendas.

  Travis came in, positioning hot pads on the table, and Abby quickly followed, lowering a glass casserole dish with several juicy, heavily spiced pork chops. They were young but clearly in love, always sure to kiss or touch when they passed one another.

  Taylor pulled out a chair next to Jim. “Have a seat.”

  The maroon fabric was stained and faded, but the cushion was nicely worn in, just like Taylor’s family.

  Jim pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He smiled at me, the slightly swollen skin under his eyes pulling up.

  When the bowls of mashed potatoes, white pepper gravy, and snap peas were on the table, Jim nodded. “Looks good, son.”

  “I got me a good one,” Travis said, smiling at Abby.

  “Yes, you did,” Jim said, winking at his daughter-in-law.

  Once Jim took a bite, I picked up my fork and dug in, not realizing the three bites of Taylor’s sandwich I’d mooched on the way to Eakins hadn’t been enough to tide me over like I thought.

  “Oh God, this is good,” I said, closing my eyes.

  Phaedra was a good cook, and I always ate well at the Bucksaw, but eating from the same menu every day made someone else’s home cooking feel like eating out.

  “Do you cook?” Abby asked.

  Her gray eyes pierced straight through mine into the deepest parts of me. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect her family from anyone unworthy. They’d been through a lot, and any woman important enough to bring home deserved a thorough evaluation.

  “Only some things. But what I cook, I cook well,” I said.

  “Like what?” She grinned sweetly as she chewed.

  “Breakfast foods mostly.”

  “Does Taylor get up early enough for breakfast?” Travis teased.

  “Shut up, asshole,” Taylor grumbled.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Everyone looked at me.

  “We’re just friends,” I added.

  Abby’s eyebrows shot up, and then she looked to Travis. “Oh.”

  “Baby,” Travis said, “pass me the salt and pepper, would ya?”

  Abby reached over and handed the small glass shakers to her husband. He seemed too young to be wearing a wedding band. They both did, yet those rings and their marriage seemed natural, as if they were always meant to love each other, working toward their forever.

  “We were friends once,” Travis said, unaffected.

  Abby pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. “Not that I didn’t fight it.”

  Travis shook his head while he chewed. “Christ, did she ever.”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you enjoyed the chase,” I said.

  The room filled with laughter, deep tones from the Maddox boys and Abby’s lighter cackles. It made me feel more at ease—the conversation, the laughter, the inflection of the back-and-forth. It felt like the dining area at the Bucksaw.

  “So, you can relate?” she asked.

  I stopped chewing, mid-bite.

  Taylor looked at me, hope in his eyes.

  When I didn’t answer, he looked to his brother. “So, how did you guys get from there to now?” Taylor asked. “Just … out of curiosity.”

  Travis and Abby traded knowing glances. Travis took a bite of pork chop, and Abby rested her chin on her hand, smiling at him, so in love.

  “We didn’t wait until we worked out our shit,” Travis said after he swallowed. “Otherwise, I’d still be chasing her.” He leaned over and kissed Abby’s cheek. “And thank fuck that’s over. Being with her and then without her felt a lot like dying slowly—with a little bit of crazy thrown in for good measure. You’ll see.”

  Taylor shot me a quick side glance and then sawed at his pork chop.

  Abby rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t quite that bad.”

  Travis stopped chewing and looked at her. “It was exactly that bad.”

  Just as Abby reached out to touch her husband’s cheek, the front door opened. We waited to see who had arrived, listening to footsteps padding down the hall along with the sounds coming from paper and plastic.

  Another Maddox brother appeared, holding a brown sack. Below him stood a tiny girl holding small plastic sacks in each hand. Her platinum hair cascaded in soft waves over her miniature-sized peacoat. Her enormous bright green eyes targeted each one of us, one at a time.

  “Olive!” Jim said. “How was Chicken Joe’s?”

  Bile rose in my throat, and my hands began to tremble. A thin sheen of sweat immediately formed on my skin. I felt like laughing and crying and cheering and collapsing all at once.

  “It was good,” she said in a voice that matched her small stature. “Cami couldn’t come. Twent was ’posed to wash the dishes before we weft, but he fowgot. Cami will be mad, mad, mad.”

  I breathed out a quiet laugh. She was so articulate, and her sweet little voice made tears sting my eyes.

  Taylor noticed my reaction and reached for my hand. “Hey,” he whispered, “you okay?”

  “She probably had to work, huh?” Travis asked, looking to Trenton.

  “Always,” Trenton said, readjusting the sack in his arms.

  All the air was pushed from my lungs, and salty tears fell down my cheeks. I’d fought to keep my emotions under control for years, but I hadn’t been prepared to see her in that moment. Her innocent voice rang in my ears. Of the hundreds of scenarios that had played in
my head, Olive walking up behind me with Taylor’s brother hadn’t been one of them.

  Whatever my expression was, Taylor seemed concerned, and he tightly held my hand.

  Jim noticed, too, but he forced some small talk. “So, I guess you’re not hungry.”

  “Hi, Olive,” Abby said. “What’s in the sacks?”

  Olive’s little legs rushed over to Abby, and she fumbled to open one of the sacks.

  “Oh!” Abby said, her eyes bright as she looked back up at Olive. “Yummy! Your mom is going to strangle Trent!”

  Travis leaned over to see inside the sack, and he chuckled. “That’s a lot of candy, Olive.”

  “It’s not all fow me,” she said simply.

  Trenton reached for Olive, summoning her back to his side. “We just swung by the store to pick up a few things you were out of, Dad. Liza is home. I’m going to drop off Olive, and then I’m heading to The Red to see Cami.”

  “Sounds good,” Jim said, his fork poking around on his plate. “You guys still liking the apartment?”

  “Domestic bliss,” Trenton said with a wide grin.

  He set the sack down in the kitchen and unloaded a few items. Then he led Olive down the hall by the hand. They were discussing something. He was looking down at her, and she up at him.

  I realized I was still turned around, gripping the top edge of the back of the chair.

  She was walking away. I felt sick.

  “Falyn, are you okay?” Taylor asked, genuine concern in his voice.

  I reached for the glass of water and took a gulp. “I think I’m just so tired from not sleeping much last night and then traveling today.”

  “Take the water with you,” Jim said. “Flying dehydrates you. I never sleep well the night before a trip either.”

  I thanked Travis and Abby for dinner, and then I excused myself from the table, water glass in hand. Taking two stairs at a time, I rushed down the hall and pushed through the bedroom door, setting the glass on the dresser before crawling onto the mattress, curling into the fetal position.

  No matter how much air I pulled into my lungs, it didn’t seem like enough. My heart was buzzing like a hummingbird in my chest, and my head was spinning. I begged myself to pull it together, but the harder I tried to fight the overwhelmed, panicked feeling, the worse it became.