Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3)(51)

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.”