Endlessly Beautiful (Beautiful #1.3)

by Jamie McGuire

  It didn’t take long for Brazil to respond. What do u mean?

  He smelled like shit. You were smoking around him? I don’t even smoke around him. And he was comatose for 24 hrs after we got him home.

  Sorry, man. I had a party. My girl dragged me outside to argue over something stupid. When I came back in, Derek had let him out of my room and was trying to feed him beer. I made Derek leave, but the dog wasn’t hurt or anything, I swear.

  Remind me not to ask you for any more favors.

  Won’t happen again, Travis. Sorry.

  I set Toto on the floor and listened to his nails click the against the linoleum in the kitchen while I opened a can of his favorite food. I scrunched my face at the rancid smell, wondering how in God’s name any creature could eat something so revolting. Of course, I was talking about Toto, who enjoyed sniffing and licking his own asshole.

  I poured the food into the orange ceramic bowl Abby had found online with Toto’s name on it, and I added more water to his bowl before returning my attention to my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until Brandon Kyle’s name appeared. My thumb hovered over the phone icon. One of my frat brothers had given me Brandon’s contact information. He was the owner of Iron E, one of three off-campus gyms in Eakins. Two of those gyms were Brandon’s, and Iron E was his pride and joy: a newer gym on the eastside that was significantly more popular than the others because of the high number of co-ed memberships. I’d lifted there before and had talked to Brandon every time. He was nice enough, but he had a pregnant wife and a lot of girlfriends—not someone I could stomach calling a friend.

  I pressed the button and held the phone to my ear. It rang a few times, and then I heard a click followed by the screeching, banging, and intermittent yelling I’d expected if Brandon was still at the gym.

  “Brandon Kyle,” he answered. Pompous prick. I couldn’t stand the kind of people who used their name instead of a greeting.

  “Hey. It’s Travis Maddox. We’ve met a few times at Iron E. I heard you were looking for a part-time trainer.”

  “Good to hear from you! Yeah, I heard you might call. Man … we’d love to have you on the team. I’ve watched you here before. You know your shit. And holy God, would you bring in the ladies. Come get an application and I’ll show you around. We’ll discuss details and then we can decide if it’s something we both still wanna do.”

  “Uh …” I wasn’t expecting his response. “When do you want me to come in? Today is my early day, but I have to go pick up my wife and …”

  “Wife?” Brandon laughed. “Since when?”

  “Since last weekend.”

  “Oh!” he said, his voice muffled. He was likely holding his fist over his mouth the way I’d seen him do before when he made fun of people. “Damn. Did you knock her up?”

  “What did you just say to me?” I asked, feeling my blood boil. I turned on my heels, realizing I was pacing with my free hand balled into a fist.

  “Nothin’ … Nothin’. Just fuckin’ with ya, man! Yeah! Come on in! I’ll see you then.”

  “Just whenever?” I asked.

  “This is a pretty slow week. All the fatties have given up on their New Year’s resolutions. I’m open until Thursday.”

  I told him thanks through clenched teeth, and then hung up. There was no way I could work for that tweedle dick. I’d assault him on my first day.

  Toto finished his lunch, and I put him in the green plaid sweater Abby had bought him. With some effort, I hooked his leash on his collar while he tried to lick my hand, and then led him outside. I crossed my arms, keeping hold of the leash, grumbling to myself about Brandon when a shiny Porsche rolled up, parking just behind my Harley. The window rolled down, revealing Parker’s smug smile.

  “Maddox! Heard you’re in some trouble with the local authorities. And the non-local authorities.”

  “Lick my nuts, Hayes.”

  Parker’s expression turned serious. “Is it also true … about Abby and you?”

  “Did she kick you to the curb for me? Twice?”

  Parker frowned. “Is it true or not?”

  “Of course it’s true. You didn’t think you really had a chance with her, did you?”

  “You don’t deserve her, Maddox. You have to know that.”

  “Maybe not. But Abby thinks I do. That’s the only opinion I care about … so you can eat shit and die, Parker, because no one here cares what you think. You were a distraction. A commercial. She was never going to end up with you. It’s fucking pathetic that you tried.”

  “I didn’t try that hard. If I had, you wouldn’t be married.”

  I tilted my chin down, glowering. “Get out of your pussy car and come say that to my face.”

  Parker swallowed, and then rolled up the window halfway. “Pussy car? How about your pussy dog?! Nice sweater!”

  “This dog takes shits bigger than you.”

  “She’s going to leave you, Travis. Abby’s going to realize what she’s done, the new is going to wear off, and she’s going to leave you. And I wish I could see that arrogant smile wiped right off your face when she does.”

  I took a step forward, my muscles tensed and ready like they were just before a fight in the Circle. I knew if I threw one punch I wouldn’t stop, but in that moment killing Parker was the only thing that was going to make me feel better. “Get out of your fucking car. Right now.”

  Parker hid himself behind the dark tint of the window, and then drove away.

  I stood with my hands in fists, my entire body trembling with anger. Toto nuzzled his nose against my jeans, and I looked down. Adrenaline absorbed back into my system as my gaze fell to his expectant eyes. He was was cold before he ever did his business; now he was shivering like I was. He sniffed and kicked back a few tufts of grass like he owned the place.

  I smiled. “Yeah. You woulda kicked his ass, too, huh?” I scooped him up and took him inside. The second I set him down, he trotted off to my bedroom, probably curling up on his bed for his afternoon nap.

  I grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys, and headed out the door and down the stairs, sliding behind the wheel of the Camry. I gripped the steering wheel, watching my knuckles turn white under the pressure. Abby’s last class wasn’t over for another hour, and I was itching to vent about Brandon and Parker. Something white caught my eye, and I looked down between the seats. I reached down, fishing out the envelope that contained my mom’s letter to my future wife … to Abby. I gently set it on the passenger seat, and put the gear into reverse and backed out, driving toward Dad’s.

  As I drove, I imagined telling him the truth about the fire. I wasn’t sure if he’d want me to turn myself in or not. It didn’t matter—I couldn’t. I’d promised Abby. Telling Dad would only be to relieve myself of the burden—and putting it on him. He would have to decide whether to turn me in or not. I couldn’t do that, either.

  I gripped the steering wheel and made my way to the home where I grew up. The house where I threw my first punch and caught my first fist in the mouth. Where Thomas used to hold me down so my brothers wouldn’t beat my ass because I wouldn’t back down, and where Trenton would break pretty much anything between standing between him and me … even the twins. I smiled as I turned into the drive, hearing the gravel beneath the tires.

  Dad pushed open the screen door and rested his hands on his round middle, watching me approach the porch with an appreciative smile on his face. “Well, well,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d see you around here for a while.”

  “I’m three miles away,” I said, climbing the steps to the wood slats that made up the porch. Dad patted me on the shoulder, and I brought him in for a hug.

  “Your mom and I didn’t leave the house for three weeks after we married.”

  “Dad,” I scolded. My face twisted into disgust, and I stepped past him into the living room to the couch.

  Dad chuckled, closing the door behind us. “The weather is a son-of-a-bitch,” he grumbled. He took a peek outside the sm
all glass square near the top of the front door, and then shook his head, waddling to his recliner. He sat on the edge, leaning forward with his elbow resting on his knees. “Whatcha got there?” He gestured to the white envelope in my hand.

  I lifted it a few inches, surprised at how nervous I felt. Dad didn’t talk about Mom a lot. Not that he tried not to, but I could still see the emptiness in his eyes—the same way I would feel if I ever lost Abby.

  “It’s a letter.”

  “The, uh … the one Mom left you?”

  I nodded. “I gave it to Abby before the wedding.”

  “I’d hoped you’d remember.”

  “I did.”

  “Good,” he said, clearing his throat. “Good.”

  “Do you want to read it?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t for me.”

  I pulled out the thin paper from the envelope, my eyes tracing Mom’s delicate handwriting. “I know. It’s kind of like hearing from her again. It reads just the way I remember her.”

  Dad thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, waving his hand toward him. “Okay, then. Bring it over.”

  I jumped up, handed the paper to Dad, and then returned to my seat on the couch.

  Dad blinked a few times, trying to focus, and then, seeing her words on paper, his bottom lip began to tremble. He rested his chin on his hand to try to mask his emotion, but then he blinked several times, and his eyes began to gloss over. A smile touched his mouth, he shook his head, and chuckled once. Dad lowered the letter with one hand, and then wiped his eye with the other. After a full minute, he cleared his throat, and then looked up at me.

  “It’s been a long time. It was good to hear her voice again. Thank you, son.”

  I nodded. “I miss her, too. All the time.”

  He laughed again, wiping another escaped tear. “Me, too … every moment of every day. For damn near seventeen years. And the way you look at Abby,” he sighed, “that’s the way I looked at your mother. My God, did I love that woman. I’d never felt anything like that before … and never since.”

  My eyebrows pulled in. “Do you think I’m going to lose her, Dad?”

  “Abby?”

  I nodded.

  Dad touched his lips with his fingers, and then looked down at the floor. I couldn’t move or breath while I waited for the answer. He finally leaned forward again, and looked me straight in the eyes.

  “Travis … I hate to break this to you son … but your wife? She’s stronger than you. You’d leave her before she’ll leave you.”

  His words knocked the wind out of me, and I covered my face, letting the relief wash over in waves. Dad was never wrong, and I trusted him with my life. I looked up at him, knowing he was offering me the truth, but because I loved my wife, I was going keep the truth from him.

  *****

  Thank you for reading episode five of Endlessly Beautiful! First, several people have dedicated their stories to me. Thank you so much! What an honor. Second, Beautiful Burn has made the USA Today and Indie bestseller lists two weeks in a row! The reviews are amazing. I love hearing that you love Beautiful Burn as much (and in some cases more!) than Beautiful Disaster. That is exactly how I wanted to end the Maddox Brothers series!

  Be sure to follow my Wattpad page so you will be instantly updated when new episodes are posted, and be sure to vote for each episode! Next week, we’re going to hear from Abby again. That’s all I can say for now! ;)

  www.jamiemcguire.com

  Real Life Starts Now

  :: Abby ::

  The cork board next to the exit of Reiger Hall was cluttered with ads, with headers like For Sale, In Search Of, and Help Wanted, each one with numbers at the bottom, cut into strips. An ad near the top had official school letterhead and a list of subjects. I narrowed my eyes, read the fine print, and then ripped off a tab and put the phone number in my pocket. The school was looking for tutors, and Calculus was one of the subjects. Not even a week into the last half of second semester, and the books and supplies in my backpack were weighing it down, cutting into my shoulders.

  I hopped a bit as I took my first step toward the exit, trying to shift the straps to give the indentions next to my neck a break. The early spring air hit my face the moment I stepped outside. Coats in every style and color peppered the sidewalks, a patchwork setting students apart from our gray surroundings. I looked up at the sky, feeling mist instantly cover my face. It had either poured or spat rain all day. The morning fog was just beginning to move on.

  “Hey!” America yelled, half jogging, half running toward me. She waved, her bright smile the only sunshine. She stopped in front of me, holding the straps at her chest, breathing hard. “The sorority girls are going nuts. I love it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About Travis … and you. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. “Great.” I continued down the sidewalk, and America followed.

  “Not even half believe it.”

  I stopped abruptly. “Believe what? That we’re married? Or that he married me?”

  She shrugged. “Both.” When she realized I was offended, she back peddled. “But, c’mon. Look at you. Of course he did.”

  I looked down at my less-than-special plaid flannel shirt and olive green vest, skinny jeans and tall, brown boots. My hair was flat and damp. I couldn’t remember if I’d bothered to put on makeup before leaving the apartment or not. I looked around, noticing people’s lingering, curious stares.

  Someone whistled, and I turned, watching the sea of students part to reveal Travis walking toward me. He was strutting down the center of the walkway, his hands in his jeans pockets, and wearing a gray beanie, a Ramones T-shirt under an open button down, and his black leather boots just for that extra, Don’t fuck with me, I’ll end you. Even with a wedding ring on his finger, the co-eds stopped to stare. Travis was beautiful, still oozing his sex and charm whether he meant to or not. One side of his mouth turned up, his right brow lifted the tiniest bit, and I swallowed, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

  He stopped in front of me, staring at me with the same look on his face as when the officiant in Vegas said man and wife. Travis didn’t even have to say he loved me—I could see it in the way he looked at me, the way he moved, hear it in the way he spoke—even if what he was saying had nothing to do with me.

  He breathed out a laugh, noticing my expression. “What is going on in that head of yours?”

  I shook my head and threw my arms around his neck.

  “Pidge, what is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

  “I’m good,” I said softly, pressing my cheek against his. Feeling his whiskers against my face was comforting, as was the smell of his cologne. “I just …” I let him go and shrugged. “I love you.”

  He stared at me for a moment, a grin spreading across his face. “Hearing you say that will never get old.” He reached out his hand, and he led me to the parking lot.

  If people weren’t staring, they were pretending not to stare until we passed. I could feel curious eyes ogling the back of my head, and hear the whispers about the fire, the wedding, and just the fact that Travis and I were walking together after the big scandalous breakup only a tiny campus like Eastern would bother to care about.

  Travis cut across the grass, his boots squishing in the wet mud. I hopped over puddles and ruts, glad when my husband finally swooped me up into his arms and carried me without being asked. I laced my fingers behind his neck, unable to stop smiling at the sight of Travis being unable to stop smiling.

  “What are you so happy about?” I asked.

  “You.”

  “No. It’s something else. What have you been up to today? Did you get good news?”

  He lowered me to the asphalt next to our car, and dug into his pocket for the keys. He handed them to me. “Your turn to drive.”

  “Me? No,” I said, shaking my head.

  He snorted. “Pigeon. You’ve gotta learn sometime.�
��

  “I know how to drive. I just don’t like to.”

  “What if I’m at work and you need to get somewhere?” He opened the driver’s side door and gestured for me to get in.

  I pushed the door closed. “Then I’ll drive. But you’re not at work, you’re … hey. Did you find a job?”

  “Not yet. I called a guy. I don’t think it’s going to work out, though.”

  The mist turned into droplets that grew louder with every passing second.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Travis opened the door again. “Get in the car, Pidge. It’s pouring.” My brow arched, and he sighed. “They’re hiring at Iron E.”

  “You like that place, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Baby, get in the fucking car. You’re already soaked.”

  I started to walk toward the front, but he reached for my arm to stop me.

  “I’m not driving in the rain, Trav. C’mon. I’ll drive tomorrow.”

  He frowned. “Fine.” He slid in behind the wheel and leaned over, pulling on the lever and pushing open my door while I jogged around, ducking into the passenger’s seat.

  I scrambled to turn the heater on high, and then Travis took both of my hands, simultaneously rubbing and breathing on them. An errant, wavy strand hung in front of my eyes, dripping wet. Travis was unhappy, two lines forming between his brows.

  “What’s wrong with Iron E?” I asked.

  “I like the gym. I just don’t like the owner.”

  “That Brandon guy?”

  “Yeah,” he said through his teeth. “His wife is pregnant … like ready-to-pop pregnant. He’s fucking the receptionist, two of the trainers, the clients …”

  “So?”

  “So? He’s a piece of shit, Pidge. I don’t wanna work for him. He brags about it all the time. He’ll earn a face punch the first hour.”

  “Do you have any other prospects? We have rent, baby.”

  Travis sighed and looked out his rain-streaked window. “No. And he made it sound like all I have to do is apply and I have the job.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” I said with a surprised laugh.

  Travis turned to me, serious. “I just told you, Pidge.”