Beautiful Sacrifice (The Maddox Brothers, #3)(50)

“Chicken Joe’s tonight,” Jim said.

“He’s still doing that, huh?” Taylor said, glancing at me for half a second.

“Just about once a week now,” Jim said.

Travis and Abby left us for the kitchen, and Taylor took my hand, guiding me up the stairs and down another hall. He stopped at the last door on the right and twisted the knob, pushing through.

Taylor set the bag down on a loose board, making it creak and reveal itself beneath the carpet.

I hadn’t stayed over with friends very often as a child, and leaving for college had been difficult. Moving in above the Bucksaw had been a relief but also stressful. I never did well in foreign places, but the disrepair and decades-old furniture and wallpaper felt like a place I could call home.

My palm fell flat against my forehead. “I can’t believe I’m here. They’re just next door.”

“I can’t believe you’re here either,” Taylor said, reverence in his voice.

The bedroom was decorated with plastic sports trophies, medals, old pictures, and a blanket of dust. The whole house smelled of dinner, stale smoke, and a hint of men’s aftershave.

I took a step toward the wall, the setting sun glinting off a portrait of a very young Jim and Taylor’s mother, Diane.

“Where is she?” I asked, turning to him. “Your mom.”

Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s … not here. She passed away when I was a kid.”

My mouth fell open, and I snapped it shut. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“It hasn’t come up.”

“It sure as hell has—at least twice. All that talk about trusting each other, and you failed to mention that you grew up without a mother?”

Taylor let his hand fall to his thigh. “I don’t like to talk about it. It’s kind of like the twin thing. People see me differently when they know.”

“Who gives two f*cks and a shit about someone who might think less of you because your mother died?”

He laughed once.

“I’m serious,” I said. “You should have told me.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends.”

He stared at me, hurt. “Really? We’re going to hinge our friendship on sharing? Because I only have a vague idea of why you’re here.”

“Was it an accident?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Cancer.”

“Jesus. That’s awful.”

He pointed at me. “That look on your face right now is why I didn’t tell you.” He began unpacking our things, pulling them out of the bags as if he hated them.

“You’re lucky I didn’t ask your dad where she was. I would never have forgiven you.”

He sighed. “I didn’t think about that. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“I should tell you one more thing,” he said.

I braced for it, crossing my arms over my middle.

“My dad doesn’t know what I do. He made us promise a long time ago that we wouldn’t go into a line of work that could put us into danger. He was in law enforcement, and Mom asked him to give it up before she passed. It’s kind of a pact we made with each other.”

“So, you applied for a hotshot crew?” I asked in disbelief.

“No. While we’re here, Tyler and I sell insurance.”

I laughed, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“What does Tyler do?”

“Forest Service, like me.”

My mouth hung open. “He’s a hotshot, too?”

“Yeah. He’s usually on different shifts. Just don’t mention it, okay? I don’t want to upset Dad.”

“You all have a pact to be safe, but your baby brother fought in an underground fight, and you and your twin fight wildfires. What is Thomas? A spy?”

“No, he’s an ad exec in California. He’s a type-A personality, always doing what he’s supposed to do.”

“At least one of you is.”

He held out his hand. “We should probably go back down.”

I stared at his outstretched fingers and then shook my head. “I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.”

A deep line formed between his brows, and his cheeks flushed red. “Give me a f*cking break, Falyn. You’re here. Can we stop playing the game?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He took a step toward me. “I’m done pretending that you didn’t say what you said.”

“What?” I squawked.

“On the phone the other night. Granted, you were drunk, but … this isn’t just me. I’m not alone in this.”

Taylor’s family’s laughter floated up the stairs and down the hall to where we stood.

“You’re right,” I said.

Taylor expectantly stared at me.

“We should go downstairs.”

The scowl on his face made me wince. He opened the door, waiting for me to lead the way.

Travis was standing behind Abby at the stove, his arms wrapped around her, bending over to nuzzle her neck.

“Can I help with something?” I asked.