Rival (12 page)

MADOC

M
y hands dug deep into her bottom, squeezing the firm flesh as I buried my face in her neck. I didn’t look at her. If I didn’t, I could almost imagine that . . .

“Mr. Caruthers, stop. Not here.” She squirmed against my body and giggled as she tried pushing me away.

“I told you not to call me that,” I whispered to her.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Madoc, then. Let’s go to your room.”

“But this is more fun.”

Brianna—or Brenna?—had her legs wrapped around my waist, and I had her pinned to the wall next to my bedroom in my father’s South Bend house. She came once a week, cleaned and did laundry, and I didn’t wait long before making my move. I wasn’t sure how old she was, but she was at least twenty-four or twenty-five, and pretty as hell.

Blond hair, blue eyes, and always wearing good-girl clothes like capris and fitted polos. Definitely far from where I had strayed before.

“We need condoms,” she pointed out.

I let out a sigh as I let her down and pulled her behind me into my room.

Other than Brenna, my life here was more boring than a tractor pull. Classes hadn’t started yet, I hadn’t made any friends since students weren’t on campus yet, and the town was dead without the college crowd. Yep, like it or not, this girl was the highlight of my week. Her tits were bigger than my head, and when she left I was smiling again.

At least for a little while.

Unbuttoning my jeans, I watched as she stripped out of her clothes and dug a condom out of the nightstand. Sauntering over to me in her white lace bra and panties, she reached into my black boxer briefs and rubbed my hard-on.

She looked at me, licking her lips and grinning. My breath shook, and I looked away. I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t look at her. I never could. I didn’t even remember her name half the time.

I didn’t want her to be real.

Gripping her hair at the back of her head, I pulled her in for a kiss. Our teeth rubbed together, and I heard her moan. From the hard kiss or pleasure, I didn’t know, and I really didn’t care.

“I want it now,” she panted, rubbing me harder.

My jaw steeled, and I broke the kiss, grabbing her by the elbow and hauling her over to the bed.

“You don’t order me. You don’t own me. You got that?” I bit out.

A flash of excitement crossed her eyes like lightning. “Yes, sir.”

I stuck my fingers underneath the hem of my briefs and yanked them down my legs, kicking them to the side. Gripping the back of her neck, I brought her down with me as I lay down. “Go down.”

Cool oxygen poured into my lungs, and my heart pumped faster.

Quick-quick.

Quick-quick.

Quick-quick.

Her mouth descended between my legs, and I squeezed my eyes shut, reveling in the pleasure of how eager she was. She licked and sucked, taking all of me in as her hair warmed my thighs.

“I want to see you. I want to kiss you when you come.”

I tried to shut that voice out of my mind, instead putting my hands on Brenna’s head and pushing her down further on my cock.

“Keep going, baby,” I grunted, urging her on. “That feels good.”

Her head bobbed up and down as she sucked harder, and I arched my hips up into her mouth.

“Who’s kissing you right now? Who’s riding you?”

“More. Harder,” I ordered, but despite my best intentions the blond hair I gripped turned a light brown and smoky green eyes stared up me. “God, that’s good, baby.”

And whether I liked it or not, I retreated into my head where Fallon lived and let the fantasy take over. I didn’t want to think about that bitch. I didn’t want to want her, but I did.

Fallon was here, with her mouth on me right now, and I hated her. I fucking hated her, and I was going to fuck her with that hate until I came.

The nerves in my legs burned, leading in to my groin and everything pooled between my legs. I punched my hips up into her, going deeper and harder, while her tongue rubbed against my underside.

She took her mouth off me and then licked me up and down, before wrapping her hand around the shaft, stroking as she sucked the head.

‘“Madoc, please.”

“Fuck.” I jerked, arching my back and pulling my head off the bed.

I came in her mouth, gripping her hair at her neck and sucking
air through my teeth. She worked me until I was done, and I collapsed back on the bed, letting her go.

My body always felt more relaxed.

Afterward.

But my head was in even more knots.

Fallon. It always returned to Fallon. I couldn’t get off anymore unless I thought of her.

I wanted to look down and see ears full of piercings and the random little tattoos she had all over her body. I wanted to see the sexy green eyes in black eyeliner looking up and killing me with everything inside of her that she tried to hide.

Why? Why did I want her so much when she kept leaving?

“Who’s Fallon?” I heard a voice tap into my head from somewhere.

I blinked and asked, “What?”

“Fallon. You said that name while I was . . .” She trailed off.

Shit.

“It’s no one. You probably misheard.”

Son of a bitch! Shit. Seriously, dude?

Brenna sat up. “You yelled it when you were coming. Are you into guys? Fallon is a guy’s name, isn’t it?” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, teasing me with a grin.

“It’s not a fucking guy,” I growled and then looked straight at her. “It’s my sister, actually.”

She laughed it off until she noticed that I wasn’t laughing. Then she shut the hell up.

“Um, okay.” She scooted off the bed, looking like she wanted to run. “That’s not weird.”

She dressed quietly and quickly, saying nothing before she walked out. The rumble in my chest broke loose, and I laughed miserably as I slid back under the covers.

•   •   •

“Hey!” I jerked up in bed. “What the hell?” I asked, because I had no idea why my ass was stinging.

“Get up!”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and peered up at my mother at the end of the bed. She grabbed the sheet and yanked it off of me. Thank God I had my basketball shorts on.

Her pink lips were pressed tight in disapproval, and her hands sat on her hips.

“Did you just slap me on the ass?” I pissed and moaned, falling back onto the bed and throwing my arm over my eyes.

“Get up!” she barked again.

Normally, I enjoyed seeing my mom. She was a lot of fun, and she was a pretty decent parent actually. She and my father each remarried fairly quickly, and I hated that she had moved away. Her new husband lived in New Orleans. But asking a kid to leave his home and everything he’d known was too much. I stayed with my father and his new wife.

Bright idea, that was.

I sighed. “I was sleeping. Why are you even here?” My exasperated tone told her everything.

I just wanted to be left alone.

“Your father called and told me what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” I lied, keeping my bored expression focused on the ceiling. Headlights from a car outside flashed across the ceiling in the dimly lit room, and I knew that I’d slept all day.

I heard my mother’s heels
clunk
,
clunk
,
clunk
across the wooden floor. “Get up!” she urged again, and the next thing I knew she was swatting me with a magazine.

I brought up my arms and legs to shield me. “Damn, woman!”

She fired the magazine across the room, tucked her long blond hair behind her ear and stomped toward my closet.

“And I fired Brittany,” she bit out over her shoulder.

“Who’s Brittany?”

“The housekeeper you’re bedding. Now get up and shower.” She threw clean jeans and a T-shirt at me and walked out of the room.

I shook my head at nothing, amazed with the women in my life.

Complete ballbusters.

I flipped over, burying my face in my pillow.

“Now!” She thundered from somewhere downstairs, and I punched my pillow in aggravation.

But I got up. If I didn’t, she’d be in with a bucket of cold water next.

After I’d showered and dressed, she took me to a quiet Italian place that was big on candles and Frank Sinatra. I ordered one of their pizzas, and my mother nibbled some pasta with olive oil.

“Why did Dad call you?” I asked, sitting back in the chair with my hands locked behind my head.

“Because he hasn’t seen any transactions on his credit card other than to the gas station. You’ve probably consumed nothing except Doritos and Fanta for weeks now. And he knew you’d rather see me than him, so . . .”

That was about right. I didn’t like to eat alone, so I snacked, and I was too pissed off right now to be sociable. Gas station food it was, then.

And I damn well didn’t want to see anyone, but my mom was preferable to my dad.

“Did he tell you . . .”—I lowered my voice—“that he’s getting married?” I didn’t want to upset my mom in case she didn’t know, so I tried to keep my tone gentle. I’d also heard that his current wife was suing for our house—my house—and it made me sick.

“Yes, he told me.” She nodded, taking a sip of her white wine. “And I’m happy for him, Madoc.”

“Happy?” I sneered. “How can you be happy? He cheated on you with her. It’s been going on for years.”

Her eyes dropped for a split second, and she placed her hands in the lap of her white pencil skirt. I took in a breath but immediately felt like dropping the argument. I was a dick.

“I’m happy, Madoc.” She straightened her shoulders and looked at me. “It still hurts that he could do that to me, but I have a wonderful husband, a healthy and smart son, and a life that I love. Why am I going to waste my time being mad at your dad when I wouldn’t change anything in my life?” She offered a small but genuine smile. “And believe it or not, your father loves Katherine. She and I will never go on shopping trips,” she joked, “but he loves her, which is okay with me. It’s time to move on.”

Did she think I wasn’t doing that? I may not be firing on all cylinders at the moment, and I may be missing my friends like crazy, but my father was right. Distance and perspective. I was working on it.

She picked up her fork, digging into her meal again. “He also told me what happened with Fallon.”

“Let’s not talk about her.” I picked up a piece of pizza and stuffed a bite into my mouth.

“You deleted your Facebook and Twitter accounts,” she scolded, “and you’re holed up in an empty house. Why don’t you just come and spend the last six weeks of summer with me?”

“Because I’m fine,” I burst out, my mouth full. “I am. I’m getting an early start here, making friends, and I’m planning to take a look at the soccer team at Notre Dame.”

“Madoc—” she tried, but I interrupted.

“I’m fine,” I maintained, my voice even. “Everything’s fine.”

And I continued to tell her that every day when she regularly texted me to check in, every time she called, and every time she made Addie come and check on me.

For the rest of the summer, I was
fine.

FALLON

M
y alarm went off, and Sublime’s “What I Got” played on my radio. I pulled my comforter back up, having kicked it off during the night. The morning chill was getting worse every day, and I couldn’t believe that it was already October. Tate and I had moved into the dorm a little over a month ago, and time had flown by as we settled in and started our heavy class loads.

Neither of us had a job, but school kept us rocking around the clock. When I wasn’t in my room or at class, I was in the library. When Tate wasn’t in our room or the library, she was at Jared’s apartment in the city.

At first she tried only staying there on the weekends—respecting her father’s wishes and all—but now it had become more frequent. They couldn’t stay away from each other. Most weekends they traveled back to Shelburne Falls to visit her dad and for them both to race at the Loop—whatever that was. I never went, though. No way.

While it was lonely around the dorm when she went home—I still hadn’t really made any friends—I couldn’t begrudge them the
time they spent together. They were in love. Plus, over the past couple of months, I’d grown to like Jared a lot. He put on a macho act, but that was all it was. An act.

Tate and I studied together and went out once in a while. Since Jared attended the University of Chicago, he didn’t hang around our campus much. They often invited me along on their dates, but I had no interest in being a third wheel.

The heavy wooden dorm room door clicked open.

“Fallon, are you awake?” I heard Tate call.

I sat up, leaning back on my elbows. “Yes?” I replied as more of a question, blinking against the morning light. “What time is it?”

Reaching over, I turned my alarm clock to see it was only six in the morning. Tate threw her backpack on her bed and started yanking stuff out of drawers. She was still in the same clothes from last night. Usually when she spent the night at Jared’s, she came home freshly showered and dressed, ready for class. Right now, she looked rushed.

“What classes do you have today?” she asked, not looking at me as she darted around our room.

I swallowed the dryness from my mouth. “Um . . . Calc III and Sex and Scandal in Early Modern England.”

“Nice,” she teased in a deep voice.

“The last one is a gen. ed.,” I explained, embarrassed. “Why? What’s up?”

“Do you feel like skipping?” She stuffed clothes into her backpack and then turned to look at me. “Jax showed up at Jared’s dorm this morning. No one’s heard from Madoc. He’s not returning calls, texts, IMs . . .” She trailed off, hands on her hips.

“You haven’t talked to him at all lately?” I looked away, not wanting her to see the worry I was sure was on my face.

“Yeah, Jared and I let it go at first, because we thought Madoc
needed his space, and we’ve all been so busy. But if Jax is worried, then it’s definitely past time to check it out.” She stopped, finally taking a breath.

She came over, tapping my leg and smiling. “So let’s go on a road trip!” she said before darting over to our sink area to retrieve her toiletries.

Go to Notre Dame?
My heart started talking a mile a minute with its
thud-thud-pound-crash
rhythm.

I shook my head and lay back down, my voice quiet. “Nah, I don’t think so, Tate. You guys have fun.”

“What? What are you going to do all weekend?” She popped her head around the corner. “You should come with us, Fallon. You’re his family.”

She talked to me like a mom, pointing out that I should care about Madoc when she thought I didn’t. The truth was I did care about him even though I shouldn’t.

And I did not need the reminder that our parents were still married to each other. My mother had been fighting the divorce, and to make matters worse, she was trying to take Madoc’s house. Caruthers’s affair came out in the media, and during a moment of weakness, I actually felt bad for the guy. I e-mailed him the photos, hotel receipts, and contact information that would give him the proof he needed that my mother had not been a loyal wife, either. Strangely, he didn’t use any of it.

Maybe he didn’t want my help, or maybe the proof of my mother’s infidelity would only bring more attention he didn’t want. I couldn’t help but have a tiny bit more respect for him for not dragging her name through the dirt.

“I’m not really his family, Tate. It was never like that with us.” I ran the tongue ring I’d put back in between my teeth, thinking. “And he’s fine, you know? If he were dead, the credit card transactions
would’ve stopped. In which case his father would be on top of it. He’s fine.”

She walked back around the corner, her eyebrows narrowed in resolve, and tossed her toiletries on her bed.

Heading over to me, she hovered. “He could be drunk twenty-four/seven or on drugs.” Her tone was calm but threatening. “He could be depressed or suicidal. Now get your ass packed. I don’t want to talk about this again. We leave in one hour.”

•   •   •

Tate and I drove in her G8, while Jax and Jared led the way in the Boss to Indiana on I-90. The drive was short—only about an hour and a half—but with the way these people drove it only took a little over an hour. With barely any time on the road, I didn’t have nearly enough highway to get my hands to stop shaking or my mouth to stop going dry.

What the hell am I doing?
I almost buried my face in my hands.

Madoc wouldn’t want me there. Knowing him, he was probably knee-deep in sorority princesses and keg parties. He was going to insult me, create a scene, or worse—I’d see him broken and losing control. Did I really have that kind of power over him, though?

Of course not.

I blew out a breath and pulled the tip of my cap over my eyes, leaning back in the seat.

It was foolish to even think Madoc would be upset about me leaving him without a good-bye. It’s not like we had a relationship. No, if he was off the reservation, it was because his plans for the summer had been ruined. And yes—he was going to blame me for that. As he should.

I threw my baseball cap into the backseat and fluffed my hair.

To hell with it.

I shouldn’t be in this car, but it was too late now. I could act like I
was hiding and embarrassed or look like I belonged there. He got bamboozled. Well, so did I.

Taking out my brush, I teased my hair to make it messier and touched up my makeup in the mirror. My black eye shadow still looked good, but I needed more mascara and some clear lip gloss.

Addie once gave me great advice about makeup. It’s not supposed to make you pretty. It’s supposed to make you prettier. Translation: less is more. I added to my eyes to make them pop, because they were my best feature. But I usually left the rest alone.

My blue nail polish was chipped, and my jeans were holey. But from the waist up in my short-sleeved black T-shirt, I looked okay.

“We got his address from Addie,” Tate said as we pulled up in front of a two-story house near campus. “I guess he decided against the dorms and moved in with some friends.”

I peered through Tate’s window as she parked across the street. This wasn’t Madoc’s father’s house. I’d been there once. This house, although large, was still smaller and the white paint was fresh, whereas the Caruthers’s house was made of brick. This must have been a rental for college students.

Jared and Jax climbed out of the car, and I followed Tate, gripping the door and debating about just staying with the car.

Damn! Damn! Damn!
I started bobbing on my toes, and I slammed the door with too much force.

“What do we say? ‘Surprise’?” Tate asked Jared, grabbing his hand.

“I don’t care what you say. I’m gonna break his nose.” Jared stuck his other hand in his hoodie, steam damn near coming from his nose. “This is ridiculous making us all worry like this,” he mumbled.

Jared walked up the steps and pounded on the forest green wooden door, alternating between his fist and the knocker. Jax and Tate flanked him, and I stayed back. Way back.

With my hands in my pockets.

Eyes averted.

And my guilt tucked firmly up my ass.

“Can I help you?”

I spun around to see a young woman, about my age, coming up the walkway behind us.

She was dressed in a short, cute jean skirt and a Fighting Irish T-shirt. Her face sparkled in the sun with gold and navy glitter from the huge “N” and “D” painted on her cheeks.

“Yeah,” Tate spoke up. “We’re here to see Madoc. Do you know him?”

She broke out in a bright, white smile. “I’m sure he’s already at the game.”

“The game?” Jax asked.

I couldn’t dislodge the bowling ball from my throat. Who was this girl?

“Yeah, the soccer game,” she offered, walking past us up the steps. “The team’s been gone since early this morning. I came back for chairs for the after-party. Best get them now. Everyone will be too drunk later,” she laughed.

She hauled up three collapsible lawn chairs from the porch and hooked the handles over her shoulders.

“Madoc’s on a
soccer
team?”

I almost laughed at Jared’s question. He sounded like he wanted to vomit.

The girl stopped and cocked her head to the side, looking at him like she wasn’t sure what to say. After all, if we were his friends, we would’ve known that he played soccer, right?

“Call Madoc, would you?” Jax approached her, using a smooth voice as he shrugged. “Our phones are dead.”

She pinched her eyebrows together, knowing that he was lying. “Um, okay.”

Taking her cell from the back of her skirt pocket, she dialed and tilted her head to get the phone between her blond hair and her ear.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted, and my heart felt like someone had dug away the bottom and was letting the blood seep out.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Get Madoc, will you?” she asked, and I blinked. “He has friends at the house that want to talk to him for a minute.”

I let out a breath, but I wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with me. That wasn’t his girlfriend. But why the hell did I care if he had a girlfriend? I just hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t even entertained the idea that he’d moved on. Of course he would. I guess I thought I’d never have to see or hear of it.

I watched, seeing her smile as she shook her head.

“Well, tell his girlfriend to unwrap herself from him then,” she ordered, and my eyes flared. “His friends here seem . . . intense.” She smirked at Jared, obviously teasing him, but my chest had gone and plummeted all over again.

What the fuck?

Jax came up to the girl and took the phone she offered. “Madoc, it’s Jax,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m at your house. Tate and I want confirmation you’re not drunk, high, or suicidal. Jared’s here, but he could care less. We’ll meet you after your game, or I’ll give Tate a crowbar and set her to work on your car.”

He hung up and tossed the phone back to the girl with the abnormally raised eyebrows.

I spun around and headed down the walkway, taking a right on the sidewalk.

To hell with this.

What a stupid idea. Why did I come here?

“Fallon, wait!” Tate called behind me, but I dug into the pavement harder, quickening my steps.

She grabbed my arm and tried to turn me around, but I kept going.

“Where are you going?” she shouted.

“Back to Chicago! He’s fine. Screwing around as usual.”

The late-morning breeze rustled the leaves overhead and blew my hair into my face as I walked.

Damn him.
I couldn’t believe this. I actually came thinking he was hurt or in trouble.

“Fallon.” Tate jogged right in front of me and blocked my way. “I’m confused. What’s going on?”

“He’s fine!” I pointed out, holding out my palm in the air. “Obviously! You were stupid to worry. I told you.”

He’s on a soccer team. No. He’s on the Notre Dame soccer team. And he has a girlfriend! Who has her pretty little preppy self wrapped around him right at this moment.

I’m so stupid.

I veered around Tate and kept walking.

“Stop!” she growled in a deep voice. “How are you going to get back home?”

My steps slowed, and I looked around the neighborhood, searching my brain.

Yeah, I forgot that part.
I wasn’t walking back to Chicago.

“Fallon, what’s with you and Madoc?” Tate came around to face me again, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“Please.” I tried to laugh it off, but it came out like a croak.

Smooth, Fallon.

“There is, isn’t there?” She smiled knowingly. “That’s what all that commotion was about when you took off with his car that night. And you’re the reason he split so early in the summer.”

I averted my eyes, checking out the super-interesting cracks in
the sidewalk. Tate was a friend now. A good friend. And I couldn’t lie to her.

But I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it, either.

“Oh, my God!” she blurted out, obviously taking my silence as a confirmation. “Seriously?”

“Oh, shut up.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. “So is it hot?” she prompted.

I rolled my eyes, avoiding the question.

The voice in my dreams crept back into my head.
“Sit on the car. . . . Spread your legs.”

Tate must’ve seen the longing in my eyes, because she burst out, “I knew it!”

“Yeah, well,” I jumped in, “it’s not true love, Tate.”

For him, anyway.