Give You Up (Dumas University Book 1)

by Ashlyn Mathews

  Taron kisses along the wall of my mouth. Tangles our tongues. He tastes of salsa and smooth ale. I tremble. Groan beneath the onslaught of his mouth and his tongue. Dig my nails into his biceps when he wraps his arms tight around me.

  He deepens the kiss, and I slacken against him. My whimper of need is loud in my ear. His hair is soft in my hand. My fingers trenched in his soft strands, I tilt his head to the side. He opens further for me, his kisses drowning out my moans and sighs.

  After what seems like minutes, I break off the kiss and come up for air. My body tingles from head to toe. My face is warm like I’ve been staring up at the hot sun.

  Taron runs his finger over my bottom lip. Lingers on my lip ring.

  “Fuck, I love this sliver of metal. Feels good on my tongue, baby.”

  “Yeah, that cool metal can get a man hard quick.”

  The conversation drops to a dead silence. What Dare said is loud, rising above the noise. Before I can understand what is happening, Taron shoves me off his lap, launches across the table and grabs Dare by the front of his shirt. He starts pounding on Dare’s face with his fist.

  “Taron!” I grab Taron’s arm. He doesn’t stop beating on my best friend.

  I jump on Taron’s back. With barely any effort, he pushes me off him. It’s enough for Dare to regroup and blink away the surprise on his face. He pulls back his arm. Thank God, the guys step in and haul the men away from one another before they do serious damage.

  I hurry to Dare, and grabbing a wad of napkins off the nearest table, I put pressure on the cut above his right brow. The skin is split, and he’s bleeding.

  Midnight grabs Taron’s arm and shoves him in the direction of the door. “Get the fuck out of here now!”

  Without looking at me, Taron leaves. The girls and the six guys who had no loyalty to him whatsoever weeks ago follow him out.

  “Dare, we should get you to the hospital.”

  “No, B. Get me home.”

  He slings his arm over my shoulders. Staggers. Midnight gets under his other shoulder, and the two of us help Dare to his Jeep. He fishes the keys from his pocket and hands them to Midnight.

  I snatch them away. “I’ve got this. You have a business to run. Anyway, it’s my fault Dare is hurt. I am so sorry, Dare. I don’t know what came over him.”

  “I do. It’s called fucking jealousy, and you better tell him to ditch that shitty green-eyed beast fast, B. Otherwise, he is not welcome anywhere near you again.”

  38

  Syn

  I am not a confrontational person. Would rather ignore a problem or, like with my mom’s secrets, run away, leaving the ones I care about wondering what they did wrong.

  I understand how Taron could misunderstand Dare’s comment about my lip ring. Except Dare and I did kiss, though it was accidental and didn’t mean anything to either of us.

  The rest of the week passes by without a text from Taron. I sent him crying emojis. Kissing ones too. Begged for him to take my calls. That we still have our assignments to do. He hasn’t shown up for our sex ed class.

  Does he not care?

  Oh God, what if he doesn’t?

  What if his work in progress speech was nothing but smoke and mirrors for what he came to Dumas for, to make me pay for kissing Grady and ghosting him?

  This theory of mine would be fine and dandy if the guy in question doing the punishing wasn’t Taron. Taron has a temper, but he is not vindictive. By the time Saturday rolls around, I ditch my calendar and make an early morning visit to Taron’s place.

  They have a bye week. Bye weekend was supposed to be a big party at Blaise’s Montana estate, but we decided to make it a surprise end-of-the-season party for the entire football team and coaching staff, using Blaise’s private jet. Must be nice to have money, but I would never want to walk in Blaise’s shoes. What she went through when she was kidnapped for ransom affects her then, now, and probably for forever.

  I make my way to the front door. Cooper told me Jordan and Andy aren’t around. Andy took Lily to Montgomery for the weekend, and Jordan is helping Gwen at her family’s lavender farm. His family is from there, and his older sister is expecting a baby anytime now, so he’ll be hanging around, worrying his handsome head. His sister is having a home birth.

  My hand goes to my belly. My period hasn’t come yet, and looking at my packet of birth control pills, I’ve missed days. One on the night I stayed over at Dare’s after that party where I returned the jersey Riley stole. The second missing day is from when Taron and I were in Alexandria.

  I am ready to knock on the door, but it opens, and Jordan nearly plows me over in his rush to leave the house.

  “Hey, I thought you’d be in McMillan with Gwen.”

  “Gwen left her cell phone in my room.”

  “Ah, gotcha. Say hi to her for me. Have her text me as soon as your niece or nephew is born. I want a pic of you guys with the baby.”

  “Will do. See you, Syn.”

  He hurries by me. I call out to him. “Is Taron around?”

  “Upstairs, I believe.”

  “Thanks, Jordan.” I take the stairs two at a time. Soon, I won’t be so coordinated or limber.

  I knock on Taron’s door. Nothing. Maybe he slept in. It’s ten in the morning, and there is no practice. Must be divine. To be able to sleep in after all those early morning practices and getting up super early to make the bus for games in Alexandria and Montgomery.

  The division DU is in is small, so we’re primarily playing other private colleges. But . . . a win is still a win. A championship is still bragging rights. Everything Taron promised his teammates and the dean.

  When there is no answer, I open the door. What I see is my worst nightmare come true. Taron’s ex-PA, Sydney, is asleep on his bed. Last night was hot. The covers pool around her oversized T-shirt, and it doesn’t hide the obvious. The pretty, willowy brunette is very pregnant, her belly swollen.

  My heart beats out of control. Tears burn the back of my eyes. A cry of anger and hurt lodges in my throat. I shove my fist in my mouth and rush down the stairs, not missing the sound of running water from inside the bathroom.

  Is Taron washing off the evidence of their lovemaking? How could he do this to me? Did he do it to get back at me for Dare’s comment?

  It doesn’t matter.

  What I saw is his true color. He’ll never commit to a girl, even one he got pregnant, so how am I any different when I take a pregnancy test later and two lines show up?

  Pregnant.

  I am pregnant with Taron’s baby, and so is another girl.

  The universe is definitely out to get me.

  39

  Taron

  I am a dick.

  I am a serious fucking dick.

  But no one can claim I’m an uncaring one. Or protective of what’s mine. It’s Sunday afternoon. After letting Sydney know where I’ll be and reassuring her Blaze will get his ass handed to him should he come near her again, I drove over to Syn’s place, parked my truck across the street, and kept watch over her place.

  I wasn’t surprised when she walked out of her place with Gunner. After I told Beau of my suspicion—he and I text back and forth—he insisted I keep an eye on his daughter. He also informed me Gunner would be visiting for the day before Beau came for his kid, using his private jet.

  No probs there, old man. I would have done it without him demanding I do so or else he’ll make sure I never play ball again. Translation: he will do to me what I did to Sydney’s stepbrother for fucking with her.

  Good luck with that. I have had years of practice beating up on and getting beat by guys twice my size, and I am not small. Tipping my ballcap up, I eye my girl. I’ve been a jerk, not answering her texts or calls, but I am making up for my shitty behavior at this moment.

  I’m protecting her from the guy who hurt Natalie. I talked to Andy and asked him about the dude who got his truck rammed by Dare’s. Turns out the guy worked with Syn. Was her manager, though, h
e was only a few years older than Syn at the time. This was before she worked at Shades.

  Tall. Dark-haired. Could pass for a college kid. Andy pointed him out to me at another party we went to. I didn’t give him the four-one-one on my suspicions. One wrong move and the guy could bolt. I followed him around Dumas. Went where he went. I almost rammed my truck into his when I tailed his ass before he pulled up alongside the curb across from her place and parked. I had turned around and took on a side street with an unobstructed view of the guy sitting inside his truck watching Syn’s front door with anticipation on his face.

  Thank fuck she was out with her friends that day. Jordan, a.k.a. Gwen Bliss’s best friend, keeps me in the loop.

  Scumbag’s truck pulls into Gigi’s Diner’s parking lot, and every nerve in my body stands on end, ready to charge in and haul him away from Syn. Then something happens that distracts me.

  The little kid laughs at something Syn says, and my heart gives this godawful squeeze. He loves her. That little boy loves my girl. Jesus, she will be a damn fine mother. And I might have fucked up a future with her when I bashed her best friend’s face in rather than remain calm and wait for Syn and Dare to give me an explanation for why his mouth was anywhere near hers.

  ’Cause that’s my take on his comment. That the two of them swapped spit. How could Syn do that to me? We were exclusive. The thing is, she didn’t do anything wrong. I’m to blame for my fuck-up. I should have listened to the voice of reason. Instead, I did what came naturally to me—striking out first and talk or no talking later.

  I am so focused on Syn and her brother, it takes me a second to realize the scumbag has inserted himself into Syn’s personal space. He slides into the booth and stretches his arm across her shoulders. I grip the steering wheel. Clench my jaw. No need to act yet. All he is doing is talking with her.

  Then I see it. A flash of metal as he withdraws his hand from inside the pocket of his jacket. One, who fucking wears a jacket when the temperature hovers around seventy? Two, is he packing a gun or a knife?

  No. No. No.

  I bolt out of my truck, sprint across the street, and barge inside the diner. Bypassing the hostess at the podium, I charge to the back, and grabbing the scumbag by the front of his shirt, I haul him out of the seat and throw him onto the floor.

  “Taron, what the hell are you doing?”

  Before the guy can get up, I shove my knee between his shoulders.

  “He was pulling a gun or a knife from his pocket.”

  “I let him borrow a multi-tool. He’s returning it.”

  “You two hooked up.”

  She covers her little brother’s ears. His eyes are wide with fear, and my heart stops in my chest. What the hell am I doing? Shit, I fucked up. Big time.

  I take my knee off the guy’s back. Stand. Extend my hand to her. “Syn.”

  She stares at my hand. Shakes her head.

  “Your temper, jumping to conclusions, I can’t have that around Gunner or my friends, Taron. Please, stay away from me.”

  I am stunned.

  “Pixie Dust, I’m sorry for what I did to Dare. You’re right. I shouldn’t have jumped the gun. I should have asked for an explanation. Babe.” I step toward her.

  Gunner clings to her. He is scared. The kid is scared of me. The truth is enough for me to give Syn what she is asking for.

  “You sure you want to give me up?”

  “I am. Goodbye, Taron.”

  Well, damn. I did not see that one coming.

  40

  Syn

  The weeks pass by in a blur. I spend time with my friends, work at Shades, and show up for my classes. Wash, dry, repeat. Except there is a big piece missing from my life—Taron.

  He’s returned to what he does best. Winning games. Partying. Picking up where we left off finding the guy who hurt Natalie. When Cooper stops by Shades, he tells me about Taron encouraging the guys to take off their shirts for the girls, roping them into who has the best man chest. It warmed my heart knowing he is still looking for Natalie’s assailant.

  What he doesn’t go back to is the coeds vying for his attention. He isn’t using his fists either. He is keeping his temper in check and his penis in his pants.

  He is changing for the better, a work in progress that continues to progress to becoming a guy I would have loved to spend more time with.

  Except I gave him up, and that thought shreds my heart to pieces.

  Seeing him progressing for the better, I decide I should do the same. I let go of my crutch and rely on my calendar only for my work and class schedule. The rest of my life is fair game. I should live in the moment and not plan the details of my life down to the minutes.

  As for Dare, I do something we are both ready for. I’ve been teaching him how to play the piano. Eventually, he will be able to play whichever song soothes his soul. I hope to get him good at playing before the baby is born.

  The baby . . .

  In our sex class, I avoid Taron. There is no need to speak or work on an assignment together. We turned in our last paper the Friday before the football team’s second home game. I also don’t give too much thought to how with every touchdown his team makes, he kisses his fingers and points them at the cameras. If I do, I’ll want to run back to him, into his arms, and I can’t do that knowing he cheated on his pregnant girlfriend with me.

  Why isn’t she in Dumas with Taron? Did he pay her off like Beau did with my mom? That’s what Mom said. Mom. Her secrets. My running away rather than sticking around Mossy Rock and facing the judgement from the other kids.

  It’s time I stop avoiding the issue and speak with Taron. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Tomorrow, I’ll text him and ask if we can talk.

  Tired from my shift and making all those trips to the bathroom, my bladder shrunken to the size of a pea with the pregnancy, I make my way up the sidewalk to my front door.

  There is a large figure sitting on my porch, beneath lights that turn on on a timer. I reach for the mace in my bag.

  “I’ve missed you, baby.”

  Deep. Weary. Hopeful.

  “Dad?” My chest aches. Tears burn the back of my throat.

  Gary rises off the porch and opens his arms. Overcome by emotion, I rush over and clasp my arms around his waist.

  “I’m so sorry.” My words muffle on his shirt. “So sorry I left like that.”

  He smooths his palm over my back.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I wasn’t around for you to tell anyway.”

  I inch back and nod at the door. “Should we?” Except he’ll see the pictures of me and Gunner. “Dad, please don’t ask about the little boy in the pictures.”

  “Gunner, isn’t it?”

  “What?” My head snaps up.

  “Syn, I know about your dad and half-brother. Beau sends me updates on you. Before I went to prison, I asked my friend to have Hunter contact Beau. I also sent a letter to Beau in case Hunter didn’t do as I asked. I’ve been in prison the last four years, love.”

  “Prison!”

  He lets go of me. Blows out a breath. Clamps his big paw on the back of his neck. Gary is taller than Taron. Is a big man. He is what my mom called tall and wide. Beau and Gary are as different as night and day.

  He isn’t clean-cut and sophisticated like Beau. Tats line Gary’s neck and arms. He has a full beard, pierced left brow, and a septum ring with a ball in the middle.

  I pace on the small porch and shove my fingers in my hair. “What’d you do?”

  A three-second beat before he answers.

  “I beat a man within an inch of his life for talking bad about a woman I care about.”

  He got out of prison two weeks ago for aggravated assault. Some guy mouthed off about his old lady. Gary went after him with a metal pipe. Beat him within an inch of his life. You willing to risk putting Syn between a rock and a hard place and hope Gary doesn’t come for you?

  What Taron told Hunter. But he said he made it all up. Wait until I tell Taron
it’s all true. I should be freaked out that my dad spent time in prison. Instead, I am so proud of him for defending a woman.

  “Do I know her, the woman you defended?” Was my mom speaking the truth? Is my dad in love with Taron’s mom? Then that would mean my mom slept with Taron’s dad. Gah! A headache starts. I rub at my temple.

  “Baby, you okay?”

  “Headache.”

  “How about we go inside?”

  “Not so fast.” Something metal is shoved against the back of my head. A gun. Oh, God, there is a gun pointed at my head.

  “Hey, there, Grady. It’s about time you were ballsy enough to confront me. But do you have to involve my daughter? Syn’s got nothing to do with me beating on your dad.”

  “She does. Syn walks. My dad doesn’t. Syn takes care of herself. My dad wears a diaper and has twenty-four-hour care. You getting the difference, Gary?”

  Grady’s voice is calm, like we’re sitting around the kitchen table sharing a meal and having a normal conversation. Except there is a touch of craziness beneath his words. Grady’s been carrying around his hate for a long time.

  “Boy, leave Syn be. It’s me you’re after. That is why you’ve been hanging around town, right? To lie in wait for me? Except your baser need got the best of you and you drugged and sexually assaulted a girl.”

  The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Reeling, I blink. Blink again.

  “Is that true?” I demand.

  “Shut the fuck up, Syn.”

  “You hurt Natalie? It’s you who has the snake and butterfly tattoo?”

  “Yeah, Syn. Yes to everything. I follow Midnight on Insta. Saw a picture of you and his cousin on his feed. You all have the same tat. I had it inked along my ribs as a reminder of what your dad did to mine. How he broke my dad. Ruined his life. Now, it’s my turn to ruin his.”