That’s what she was thinking, only Jared’s severe arched brow and Madoc’s snort told me they didn’t get it.
She was in love with Jared, and even I could see that he had every intention of marrying her someday. She’d want him to dance with her at their wedding, of course. And Jared didn’t dance.
He might not need the skill for a few years, but she was just thinking ahead. Chewing on the side of her mouth, she looked angry, but she had too much pride to say why she really wanted him to learn.
“I’ve got an idea,” I spoke up, holding the towel securely around me and peeking around the door frame.
“A race,” I suggested. “She wins, and you have to take lessons until you can waltz like a pro. You win, and you don’t have to.”
He looked away with a bored expression. “I don’t have to right now. What’s really in it for me?”
Tate pinched up her lips, looking about ready to beat the shit out of him.
“All right, dickhead.” She spun around and addressed her boyfriend. “You win, and I’ll do that thing you’ve been wanting me to do.”
His eyes perked up, flashing with mischief, and I’d imagine that’s what Jared Trent looked like on Christmas morning.
“Do you have a deal?” Madoc asked.
Jared strolled up to Tate, pinching her chin between his fingers. “Next Saturday night. I’ll call Zack and set it up.” And he walked to their room, digging his phone out of his pocket on the way.
“What does he want you to do?” I could hear the smile in Madoc’s voice. “Anal? I would’ve thought you two had been there by now.”
Tate’s hair swayed across her back as she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll lose.”
She sounded more confident than sure.
Madoc laughed. “Yeah, okay. The last time Jared lost a race was . . . hmm, never.”
He’s right.
I think I’d just had a really stupid idea, and Tate was in for it now.
CHAPTER 25
MADOC
After another hilarious argument, Jared and Tate finally left town to go back to Chicago and school. He was trying to convince her to leave her car in Shelburne Falls—since they’d be back in five days anyway—and she decided it was best they drive separately and not see each other all week. He had an outburst, and she mumbled something about sexual frustration weakening his normally sharp skills on the track next weekend.
I wasn’t in a hurry to rush my time with Fallon this week, but I couldn’t stop smiling at the idea of going to the Loop again. I’d missed my friends more that I’d admitted to myself.
Fallon decided to stay an extra day or two, so we dressed and jumped in my car. After seeing Jax, Fallon and I were going by Lucas’s house.
“Jax!” I called out, opening the unlocked front door. “You awake?” I heard steady footfalls on the floor above and waited until he began descending the stairs.
He was shirtless as usual around the house and wore black Adidas track pants with no shoes or socks. His hair was pulled back in its normal ponytail, but stray hairs stuck out of it as if he’d just woken up. And he was sporting a bruise on the side of his lip. He looked tired as hell, but in a good mood.
“Hey, man.” I gave him our slap-fist-bump combo. “Put on a shirt, would you?”
It was kind of a joke. Kind of. I was hotter than him. No doubt. But I grabbed Fallon’s hand, reminding her that she could look but not touch.
Jax had begun working out with Jared and me about a year ago, and while he was still young and growing, he could hold his own with both of us. He took care of himself the way other kids his age didn’t. He had a thing about being healthy and while he dabbled in alcohol here and there, he never touched cigarettes or drugs.
In fact he had a huge problem with drugs. A guy offered him weed once, and he flipped out.
Fallon squeezed my hand, smirking at my jealous demand for him to put on a shirt.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re lucky I put on pants, dude. What’s up?”
I motioned to the stairs. “Let’s step into your office.”
He turned, and we followed him upstairs to his lair. Or that’s what I joked it was. Jared’s mom, Katherine—and my soon-to-be-stepmom—had taken Jax out of foster care and brought him home with her so that her son could have his brother with him.
Unfortunately, Jax was the sun, moon, and stars to her, and she spoiled him rotten. Jared got the mom that put herself first and neglected him, and Jax got the mature mom who’d grown up and behaved responsibly. Jared got left alone, and Jax got home-cooked meals and a number one fan at his lacrosse games.
It was fine, though. He damn well deserved a break after the childhood he’d had, and Jared was happy that his family had finally come together.
Jax had been allowed to take Jared’s bedroom when he moved to college and used the spare room as his “office.” You walked in and felt like you were in an FBI surveillance van. It was dark and a little intimidating with switches, screens, and wires snaking up and down the walls. Six huge touch-screen monitors lined the wall, three in each row, and then there was a seventh propped on a tripod that Jax used to control all of them. There were three long tables lined with electronics that I wouldn’t have the first clue about as well as a PC and a laptop.
When I asked him last year why he needed all of this, he’d simply said that he played a lot of video games.
Yeah, this wasn’t gaming. This was severe.
But given Fallon’s and my situation, I was grateful Jax was around. He might be able to issue paperwork that would have me extradited to the Sudan to stand trial for treason against their king—or whatever they had—but he was on my side, so that was a plus.
“Whoa.” Fallon stopped short when we entered the room, and I ran into her back.
Steadying myself, I wrapped my arm around her gray T-shirt-clad waist and waited, letting her take it all in.
Everything was as I remembered, but it was still a lot to absorb. Every screen was active, a couple displaying line after line of code that was meaningless to me, while other screens had Web pages, documents, and IMs displayed. I had to blink several times, because my brain was on overload. How the hell did Jax look at all of this action every day?
“Jax . . .” Fallon started with concern thick in her voice.
Jax circled the room, switching off monitors and not looking at us.
“Ask me no questions, Fallon, and I’ll tell you no lies,” he said as if he’d read her mind.
Her eyes went round at me. “Okay,” she drawled out in a whisper.
“Hey, man. I need a favor.” I walked to one of his long tables where I spied a pen and paper. “Can you search this name? Patricia Caruthers.” I continued writing her other surnames as well as her phone number. “She might also be found under Patricia Pierce and Patricia Fallon. Look for police records, credit card statements, friends in low places, her social calendar . . .”
I handed him the paper.
“Patricia Caruthers. That’s your stepmom, right?” he asked, looking between Fallon and me.
“It’s my mom.” Fallon stepped in, glancing back at me before continuing. “Jax, I’m sorry we’re getting you involved, but she’s taking things too far with this divorce. We want to see if you can”—she shrugged apologetically—“get anything on her. To persuade her to back off, you know?”
His thoughtful eyes continued to shift between Fallon and me, but he finally nodded. “Give me a few hours.”
• • •
After we’d picked up Lucas, we went to Chevelle’s Diner for lunch and then headed to the skate park. I’d told Lucas where we were going at the restaurant as I walked him to the bathroom—and stood guard outside the door, because of creepers. He’d never been skateboarding. I also told him to keep his flippin’ mouth shut. I wanted to surprise Fallon, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure how she’d take the idea. So I decided to ambush her.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permissi
on, right? That’s my motto.
My phone kept buzzing in my pocket as I drove, and I felt for the power button through my pants, switching it off.
Fallon looked over at me, narrowing her eyes on my pants.
I grabbed her hand. “Stop checking me out.”
She rolled her eyes.
My mom and dad had been calling and texting for the last hour. And I knew why. I didn’t want Fallon worrying, though.
They knew we were together, and I knew how they knew.
I didn’t blame Addie for telling them, though. She would never have volunteered the information. One of them must’ve talked to her and asked about my whereabouts. Addie couldn’t lie, not that she should.
My mom was far away in New Orleans. I didn’t worry about her showing up tonight.
My dad, on the other hand, might be surprising us.
And at this point, it was do or die. I wasn’t giving up Fallon.
She rubbed small circles across my knuckle, and I peeked in the rearview mirror to see Lucas bobbing his head to his iPod. Darn kid had grown up so much. His hair was longer around his ears, and he’d grown at least two inches in the past four months.
Fallon’s grip on my hand tightened, and I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, seeing that she’d noticed we’d turned into Iroquois Mendoza Park.
Her scowl tightened as the wheels turned in her head.
I bit back my smile and wiggled my hand loose, sticking it between her legs and cupping her to distract her.
“What are you thinking about?”
She grabbed my hand with both of hers. “Stop it!” she whisper-yelled, making swift, nervous glances over her shoulder to Lucas.
He still bobbed his head and stared out the window.
I started massaging her and rubbing circles. At least she wasn’t thinking about possibly being mad at me about the skate park right now.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I slid my hand out and down her thigh, increasing the pressure.
Looking over at her, I mouthed, “I’m going to take you so hard tonight. Just watch.”
She pinched up her lips and threw off my hand.
I turned my smile out the front windshield and jerked to a halt. “Awesome! We’re here!” I shouted, yanking up the parking brake and turning off the ignition.
Lucas followed me out of the car right away, and we rounded to the trunk to dig out the skateboards. I’d snuck down to the basement this morning to round them up where they hid between the half-pipe and the wall.
I’d also noticed that the boxes underneath the piano were emptied and Fallon’s stuff was all over the floor. She wasn’t talking about it, and I was in no rush to explain myself, so we’d avoided the subject of her whole life tucked safely away these past two years.
“Fallon!” I called. “Quit jerking off and get out here!”
The door swung open. “Madoc!” she screeched. “He’s a kid! Mind your language.”
I arched a sarcastic eyebrow at Lucas.
He shook his head, mumbling, “Chicks.”
I lifted the lid of the trunk, steadying it with one hand and peeking around it toward Fallon. “Come on. Pick your poison.”
CHAPTER 26
FALLON
Pick my poison?
I’d rather have Lucas shoot rubber bands at my face.
Slamming the car door, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and stiffened my arms against the chill in the air.
“This is why you insisted on loose clothing,” I accused.
When I’d started putting on jeans this morning, Madoc had told me to wear something loose-fitting and to shut up about it.
Such a charmer.
So I donned some loose, straight-leg black pants, a gray Obey T-shirt, and stuck my hair in a ponytail. Ready for whatever little adventure he had planned.
Every muscle in my body had tightened. Even though I used to be a proficient skater, I was out of practice. Whereas my body was still in shape, my confidence wasn’t, and with skating, confidence and quick wit were the keys to the kingdom.
I tried to ignore Madoc as he waited, to let him know that I wasn’t up for this, but my gaze couldn’t resist shifting to the trunk.
I gasped without making a sound, my mouth hanging open. I pulled my hands out of my pockets and clutched the edge of the trunk, gaping at all of my skateboards.
My boards!
“Don’t start crying,” Madoc teased me. “I wouldn’t save your Legos and not your boards.”
I couldn’t help it. Tears blurred my eyes as I looked at all five boards, each one having a special set of memories. My first board that was splintered on every centimeter of the edges and probably had blood on it. My second and third boards that I’d adorned with custom wheels and first learned how to do ollies, kick-flips, and heel-draggers. My fourth board that was my favorite to use in the bowl. And my fifth. Brand-new. Never been used.
My lungs were empty, but I didn’t feel the ache.
Looking up at Madoc, I actually gulped through my smile. “I love you,” I said in a shaky voice.
He winked in his oh-so-sexy way, telling me he’d take that as a thank-you.
“I’ll use this one,” Lucas called out, grabbing the never-been-used board.
“Oh, no.” I snatched it from him. “This one’s for you.” I held out the ratty, torn-up one with the traction nearly worn away.
He stuck out his top lip, taking the board from me.
“You have to graduate,” I explained. “Got it?”
He nodded and took the board while I grabbed the new one. Madoc slammed the trunk shut without taking one. I looked at him, raising my eyebrows.
“I’m not skating,” he mumbled. “I like to watch.”
I gripped the board at my side, grumbling, “Great.”
“Lucas,” Madoc called, and we both turned around. “Put these on.”
Madoc tossed him a mesh bag with pads and a helmet, and I tried to contain my smile. Lucas pinched his eyebrows together like he was way too cool for protective gear, but I was impressed.
Madoc was good at this big brother thing.
Was he like this years ago? Or had he grown up after I’d left? I searched my memory, remembering times he’d drink my Snapples to piss me off, but then always come and watch TV with me, making me feel less alone.
And all of the times he ignored me at school, but then send me candy-grams and balloons so I wasn’t left out when everyone else got classroom deliveries on holidays. He’d jot down some profanity or a gross poem, of course, but it still felt good to receive something.
Addie was right. Madoc picked up the pieces.
“Lucas.” I set my board down on the sidewalk and ruffled his blond hair. “Have you ever skated before?”
“Not yet. But I want to do that!” He pointed down into the bowl as we stood near the edge. He already had his helmet and elbow pads on.
“You can get in there today,” I assured him, taking his board and setting it down next to mine. “But it’ll take a lot of practice before you’re ready to go fast. Let me show you the first steps. Do you know which one is your front foot?”
The blood flowing through my arms felt hot, and my heart was pounding. Damn, I was glad Lucas was here. Madoc sat down, arms spread out and slung over the back of the bench as he watched us. Or me.
At least having Lucas here meant I wasn’t the center of attention. Madoc should’ve just told me to come out here on my own. Get my feet wet again without an audience.
But he knew me. He knew I wasn’t going to do anything without being pushed.
“Front foot?” Lucas looked confused as he lifted one foot and then set it down to lift the other, unsure.
I smiled, touching his arm to get his attention. “Okay, go and walk up those stairs over there.” I pointed up the sidewalk.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” I ordered with more authority but keeping my voice soft.
Lucas left his board on the ground and
swung his arms back and forth as he walked up the path.
As soon as he raised a foot on the first step, I yelled. “Stop!”
He halted, keeping his left foot raised and wobbling as he looked back at me.
“That’s your front foot,” I told him. “Come back.”
Madoc had gone back over to his car and left the doors open so we could hear music. Method Man’s “All I Need” vibrated out, and my face tingled with amusement seeing Lucas bob his head like the teenage boy he wasn’t. This song was older than Madoc and me, for crying out loud.
“Okay.” I bent down and pointed to his feet. “Your front foot goes toward the top of the board, and your back one goes on the tail.”
He did as he was told, and I watched as he climbed on, testing the give in the board by leaning left and right. My feet started humming for the feel of my own board.
I took a deep breath. “Now, when you’re moving, turn your front foot forward and push off with your tail foot. When you put both feet back on, turn them sideways like this again.”
He wasted no time. Before I’d even straightened back up, he was gone. He’d turned his front foot forward, at least as far as I could tell, since his black pants were so long his shoes were nearly covered. At least he looked like a skater.
Pushing off with his tail foot, he touched ground time and again, pushing faster and faster, increasing his speed.
His arms flailed, and I tensed.
“Whoa,” he yelped, and I watched as he stumbled off his board and into the grass.
I let out the breath I was holding and looked back to Madoc.
He shrugged and shook his head. “He’s going to fall, Fallon. Relax.”
Madoc’s outstretched arms were taut, and my eyes lingered way too long on the dips and curves of his biceps and triceps in his short-sleeved, heather gray T-shirt. The wide, toned expanse of his chest, I remembered, felt lean and rigid under my fingertips. Madoc was hard and soft in all of the right places, and my mouth actually watered at the thought of massaging him, so I could smooth my fingers along every inch of his skin.
With oil. Lots and lots of oil.
“Fallon.”
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