Beautiful Sacrifice (The Maddox Brothers, #3)(44)

“I’m happy for you, honey,” Phaedra said, holding out her arms as she walked toward me. Squeezing me tight, she patted my back. “But if he follows through on his promise, there won’t be enough of him left for Chuck to slice after I’m through with him.”

She let go of me, and the phone in my hand buzzed. The name on the screen read, TAYLORBEAST. I swiped the screen over and read the text.

Stop missing me. It’s embarrassing.

I shook my head and slid the phone into my apron. I would return it the moment we were back from Eakins, but his kindness was overwhelming.

For the rest of my shift, it was impossible not to be distracted by images of rolling into town and realizing my own atonement—from a respectable distance—without anyone being the wiser. I’d dreamed about it for so long, and knowing it was just a week away was almost unbearable.

Closing up might take twice as long without Kirby there to help, but we were so slow that I started well before Phaedra flipped the sign and locked the door.

I counted my tips and separated them out for Kirby, locking her portion in the cash register, and then I headed upstairs, waving to Pete and Hector as I passed.

Falling onto my couch, I pulled my new phone from my apron and held it in front of me with both hands. Taylor had sent more texts.

Well crap. Now I miss you. Thanks for being a bad influence.

What time do you get off?

Just text me when you’re off.

Waiting sucks.

With my thumbs, I typed on the touch screen.

I hope you weren’t driving.

Immediately, three dots appeared, having their own little dance party on the screen.

What the heck does that mean?

Then a message popped up.

Nah, I let Dalton drive.

Oh. It means he’s typing.

I typed again, wondering if he could tell that I was replying.

Everyone home safe and sound then?

Yep.

I wasn’t sure what to say after that. It had been a long time since I communicated with someone via a phone screen. I was out of practice.

The phone clunked against the coffee table when I set it down, and I decided on venturing out to the thrift store soon to see if they had phone cases. I’d never checked before. Maybe Kirby had an old one I could use.

The phone buzzed again.

What is your travel info?

You’re booking now?

As good a time as any.

Are you sure?

Yep.

I typed in my full name and birth date.

Imogene? That’s the worst middle name ever.

?

I can’t spell that.

You just did.

Always making things difficult.

You can thank my mother for that. What’s your middle name?

Dean.

Easy enough.

That’s what all the girls say. Will book tonight.

I put the phone on the table again and then settled back against the couch, propping my legs on the throw pillow. I was getting text messages on a cell phone, and I was going to Eakins, Illinois, in a few days. My life had felt completely different before, and even though it was scary, I’d known it was for the best, and this felt the same.

The room was quiet with muted throbs of bass coming from Cowboys down the block. I thought of Taylor Dean two-stepping, hiking, watching VHS tapes, and doing laundry. I thought about how wonderful life could be if I could add closure to it all.

Just as I began to relax, someone pounded on the door. I jumped up and yanked the door open.

Gunnar stood in the hall, his face red and blotchy, his eyes glistening in the dim light.

My mouth fell open. “Whoa. Are you all right? Where’s Kirby? How did you get in?”

“Kirby showed me where they keep the spare key. She won’t talk to me, Falyn. I really messed up this time.”

“What?”

I watched him as he passed by me and sat in the chair. He put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

I closed the door behind me. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “She thinks I’m cheating on her. I tried to explain, but she won’t listen to me.”

I walked across the room, my arms crossed over my middle.

He looked up at me, desperate. “Will you talk to her for me?”

“Sure—as soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

His eyes fell to the floor. “I lied to her.”

“About what?”

“Why I’m always late. It’s not because of traffic. I’m only taking ten hours, and I’ve been working evenings at the school for extra cash.”

I shrugged, eyeing him. “Why didn’t you just tell her?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s the job?”

“It’s cash under the table. I’m helping a guy with maintenance on a building just off-campus—trash, lawn, paint, fixing things.”

“Okay. Why did you keep that from Kirby?”

He swallowed. “Because it’s for the Delta Gamma sorority house.”

Unable to keep the laughter from barreling out of my mouth, I pinched my lips together with my fingers.

“I’ve dug a deep hole here, Falyn. I need your help.”

“How am I going to help you? And since when does the UCCS sororities have houses?”