He scowled at me and snatched another doughnut from the box.
“It’s your fault,” he grumbled. “You just had to watch it every Thursday, and then I got hooked.”
“Madoc.” I swallowed the rest of my bite. “I haven’t watched it in years.”
“Oh, you should.” He nodded. “Damon and Elena? Yeah. Then there was Alaric. That kind of sucked. And then the Originals came into town. They’re pretty awesome. They have their own show now.”
I started laughing again, and he cut his eyes to me, frowning.
“I’m serious,” he implored.
“I can tell.”
We sat there, eating and chatting for the next hour, and then Madoc reluctantly let me out of bed after I’d begged to use the bathroom.
I wanted to go for a run, but I’d had sex four times in the last nine hours. I was sweaty, sticky, and sore. I needed a hot shower badly.
I also needed some think time to figure out what I should do about my mom and how I was going to tell Madoc the rest. The baby, my mother trying to take his house . . . We were both feeling so good now, and I didn’t want to ruin the high. I just had to tell him and get it over with, though. He’d be so angry with my mom, and perhaps a little angry with me for keeping it from him, but I trusted that he’d stand by me.
I opened his body wash, smelling its wonderful contents that sent the hormones buzzing wildly throughout my body.
As if on cue—I think he had a sense about when my body needed him—he opened the glass shower door and stepped in.
His eyes were dark—almost angry—as he scaled down my body.
“Hell, Fallon,” he said in a low growl. Pulling me into him, he dipped his head to wet his hair, smoothing it back.
His mouth came down on mine, and I forgot all of my worries in the warmth of the shower and safety of his arms.
“Want to watch a movie?” I asked as he tossed me a towel. We’d finally emerged from the shower an hour later, and I thought going down to the in-house theater would be a good opportunity to talk to him. Alone, away from Addie’s loving ears.
He’d wrapped a towel around his waist and had another one on his head as he dried his hair. “Well, I was thinking it might be fun to see if Lucas is around today. I need to see him.”
I didn’t say anything. He was right. It was my fault Madoc had left early last summer and was taken away from Lucas. We needed to see him right away.
“And then I was hoping you might stay here a couple of extra days,” he continued. “I’m on Fall Break, so I don’t have to be back until next weekend.”
Disappointment weighted me to the same spot. “Northwestern doesn’t have Fall Break.”
He nodded, leaning on the bathroom counter looking hot as hell with his hair spiked up everywhere. “I know. I looked it up this morning. But if you can spare a couple of days, it might be worth it.”
“Why?”
I’d love nothing more than to stay here and spend extra time with him, but my classes weren’t for the faint of heart. Miss one day and you miss a lot. I’d already missed Friday.
Your mom’s trying to take the house. I want to go talk to Jax and see if he can help.”
“How would he be able to help?” I walked toward him, and he swung his towel off of his neck and around my towel-clad body, pulling me in closer.
“He’s good with computers,” he explained. “He can find things on the Internet others can’t. I just want to see if we can find anything on her.”
He wasn’t going to. My father’s man had already been all over it, and other than frequenting male prostitutes, my mother’s life consisted only of shopping, dining, and socializing. Madoc’s dad had the info that he refused to use.
I didn’t tell Madoc that, though. He knew my role in our parents’ divorce, and I wasn’t going to remind him.
“Jared, just give it a chance!”
Madoc and I both jerked our heads toward his bedroom door at the shouting outside.
“Woman, you are high!” Jared barked. “No way.”
“Oh, you’re such a pu**y! It’s just ballroom dancing,” Tate yelled.
Madoc and I both looked at each other wide-eyed before running to his door and yanking it open together.
Jared and Tate had just rounded the corner and were heading down the hall in the opposite direction toward the other side of the house. To their room, presumably.
Jared turned around, walking backward. “Absolutely not.”
Madoc slung an arm around my shoulder and called out. “What is she trying to get you to do now?”
Tate swung around, hands on her hips, while Jared stopped retreating.
“Ballroom dancing lessons,” he gritted out. “I don’t know where she got the idea.”
Tate looked down. “I just thought it could be a new experience, Jared,” she said with her back to him. “I can’t expect Madoc to dance with me at every occasion, can I?”
I narrowed my eyes, studying her. Every occasion?
And then it hit me.
A wedding.
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 permission, 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.