Wasn’t that just the way of it?
She turned her head and smiled lazily, hand coming up to smooth his hair back. “Condom? Yeah, I realized that about two seconds after you were in.”
She knew and said nothing? “So we’re good?”
“I’m on the pill, if you don’t remember.” When he looked at her funny, she laughed. “What did you think I was doing when I took a pill with breakfast all the times I’ve been over here? That wasn’t a Flintstones vitamin, buddy.”
“Oh. Okay.” Suddenly he had a moment of stark disappointment, followed swiftly by horrified confusion. Disappointment? That he wouldn’t get her pregnant? The girl he wasn’t supposed to be seeing in the first place? Right. He could see how that convo would go with Tim.
So, uh, don’t freak out but… your sister’s knocked up. It’s mine, but, really, no clue how that happened. Guess it jumped in there while we weren’t looking.
Yeah. Better this way.
“That was the most amazing progression of facial expressions I’ve ever seen.” Madison drew a finger from his forehead down his nose to tap his chin. “What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing.” He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. Scrubbing one hand down his face, he stood and grabbed the closest pair of shorts available and stepped into them. Then he checked the clock. “It’s really late. I was about to suggest breakfast, but lunch seems more appropriate.”
He heard her sit up and tempted fate by turning around enough to see her. Her hair was a wreck, frizzy in places, flattened down in others. Her face was completely free of makeup, the way he really liked. And she clutched the sheets from his bed to her chest in some vague attempt at modesty.
All he wanted to do was rip his shorts back off, tear the sheet away, and start the day all over again, taking care with her this time. Doing it right. Not letting himself go like an animal.
“You don’t have to be so upset, you know.”
Her lips were moving, but the words weren’t connecting in his brain.
She smiled. “I’m not upset. It’s fine. This affair has two people in it, you know. I get what I want. You should get what you want and need too. You needed the release, you got it. There’s no harm in that.”
Ha. Right. “I’m not in the mood to leave the apartment. Do you want Chinese or pizza?”
Her brows knit together, but she didn’t push further. “How about that sub place that delivers?”
“Done.” Anything to keep from having the deep, meaningful conversation she was clearly looking to have. “You okay with splitting a sub with me?”
“Sounds good.” She gingerly stepped out of bed, letting the sheet fall as she shivered when her bare feet hit the tile. “You could get a freaking rug or something for in here, Phillips.”
“Don’t go all Martha Stewart on me,” he warned as he headed for his computer to look up the number and the online menu.
Chapter 18
“I’m taking a shower,” Madison called out after Jeremy as he scrolled through the bookmarked sites of places to eat in town.
“Fine, fine.” He found the number, called in an order, and paid by credit card over the phone. The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the small apartment. He grabbed two bottles of water and a couple of paper towels to double as napkins and set them on the poor excuse for a coffee table in preparation for their lunch’s arrival.
And realized how homey and easy the whole thing was. Rolling out of bed on a lazy Sunday afternoon with nothing to do and nowhere to go… at least for now. Madison had work later that night. Ordering lunch in because neither wants to leave the house. Sharing a sandwich. Madison in his shower.
Something he could get used to. Way too easily.
Danger signs flashed in his mind just as the bathroom door opened. He heard some rustling in the bedroom area, then Madison appeared wearing a button-down shirt of his and, well, he wasn’t quite sure if anything else was under it, since the shirt hung down to basically her knees.
She followed his gaze down the front of her body and back up, an amused grin on her face. “Sorry, I just wasn’t really ready to put my own stuff back on right now. Do you mind?” She lifted one hand to run her fingers through damp hair, pressing the shirt tighter against her breasts. The outline of one puckered nipple showed clear through the light fabric. The hem rose up, tempting him to look and see if she had on shorts beneath, but he couldn’t tell.
“What’s on under there?” he asked hoarsely.
“Do you really want to know?” Her eyes twinkled with impish humor.
No. “Yes.”
She sashayed a few steps forward, brushing by him with barely a touch, a whisper of feminine scent following in her wake. “That’s a secret. Maybe you can find out later. Mind if I check my email really fast while we wait?”
He cleared his throat. “No, not at all.” To get rid of the horrible, immature squeak his throat was threatening to make, he opened one of the bottles of water and chugged until he couldn’t breathe, tanking down over half the bottle before he stopped. Clearing his throat again, he felt a little better.
“You coming down with something?” Madison asked over the click of keys. “Need me to take a look?”
“No. I’m good. Allergies or something,” he lied, sinking down to the couch. He examined his living room one more time and saw, really saw it through Madison’s eyes. Or, at least, what he assumed would be her eyes.
Sagging couch that the Goodwill wouldn’t take as a donation. Nothing matching. The main focus of the room was his baby, the forty-two inch plasma flat-screen TV. The only piece of furniture worth a damn was the TV stand, and that’s only because he refused to have his flat-screen resting on anything that might break and let it fall. But even it didn’t match.
It looked like he didn’t give a damn. And he hadn’t, at least up to now. The rest of his life wasn’t how he wanted it, so why should his apartment be any different? But why was it bothering him so much?
He caught another look at Madison from the corner of his eye and watched her cross one leg over the other, her dainty bare foot swinging to some unheard rhythm in her mind.
That’s why. When it was just him, it didn’t matter. When the guys came over—which wasn’t often, because he didn’t have much room—they understood. It was just a guy’s place to crash. But seeing Madison among the furnishings that screamed I don’t give a shit made him feel… incomplete somehow. Not that he had to rush out and Martha Stewart the place, like he’d said. But he was almost thirty-three years old. Was he not a little too old to be doing the college dorm look? The whatever’s free and easy to carry style of the newly graduated, living on a shoestring budget crowd?
Yes. He was. And it didn’t matter that Madison wouldn’t be around to see the transformation. He was determined to set some shit straight. He deserved better. Nobody else would believe he deserved better if he didn’t think so himself.
Holy shit. He deserved better. Why did that sound so foreign to him?
“Why haven’t you signed these yet?”
He shook off the mental wanderings and squinted at the paper Madison held up. Then felt his blood turn cold.
His re-up papers.
Stalking over, he grabbed the paper from her hand, sliding the folder from her other hand and setting them back on top of his computer tower. “Leave those alone.”
She stared at him, like trying to put together a puzzle piece. “I mean, I don’t get why you haven’t signed them yet. It’s not that hard, right? You just put your name on the dotted line. The CO signed them more than a week ago, from the date under his signature.”
“Leave it alone, Madison.”
“Isn’t that what you want to do? Stay in for the twenty?”
What you want to do… He spun on his
heel and headed back for the water he’d abandoned. Suddenly the closed-off feeling in his throat was back.
“That’s why you said we wouldn’t work out long-term. Isn’t it? Navy and Marine Corps, not matching up, hard to raise a family.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Not taking into account the whole best friend’s sister part, since I still think you’re overexaggerating how Tim would react.”
He uncapped the water, forcing his hand to relax before he crushed the plastic. “Stop.”
She sat back, chair squeaking in protest. “I have to say, while I don’t like it, your theory on why we wouldn’t work out long-term? I understand it. I think if two people cared, they could make it work. But I do understand. The thing that gets me, though, is this was your choice. It was one of the big factors in why you were keeping me at a distance. Your career, the biggest thing in your life. And yet you still haven’t signed the papers. It’s not like there’s any ceremony that goes along with it. You just sign, turn them back in. I’ve never even seen someone take them home before.” Tilting her head, she studied him. “You do want to stay in, don’t you?”
“Madison.” Her name was a plea to drop it. Not that she listened.
“Because if you don’t, then I think you have a really good shot at making it as a writer.”
“Stop!” He threw the now-empty plastic bottle against the wall next to the front door, startling even himself with the sharpness of his voice. “Just leave it the fuck alone.” Hearing her voice the one dream he’d been secretly harboring for years, the one thing he’d never told anyone. Ever. The one thing he knew would never in a million years happen. It hurt. Hurt more than he realized it could, to hear someone else say it out loud. As if she’d opened up some long-forgotten, well-hidden old wound just to pour some acid in there and stitch him back up again.
Madison’s wide eyes narrowed. In sympathy. No, in pity, dammit, which was worse. “Are you scared you couldn’t make it work?”
“No. Because there’s nothing to work. I’m a Marine. My father was a Marine. If I have kids, I’m sure the legacy will pass down from there.” Marines, Marines everywhere.
“Whose dream is that?” she asked softly. “Is that what you’d really want? Consigning your kids to the same lack of choice that you had?”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Do you think—”
“I’m taking a shower. If the delivery guy comes, just sign my name on the receipt. The tip is already included.” Before she could say another word, he stormed into the bathroom—the one place in the apartment with a door that locked—and shut it, leaning his back against the scarred wood.
Goddamnit. She was going to leave, and he couldn’t blame her. Who the fuck would want to stay after he all but let her have it for asking questions? Questions that ripped at his basic desires, made him think about things he had no right to dream about or feel. Dreams that, after he signed those papers Monday morning, would be all but dead.
So now he’d lost a little piece of his heart in two huge ways.
***
Madison stared sightlessly at the bathroom door, wanting to be aware if he came back out again. But no noise could be heard from the tiny room. No water running, no shower curtain being moved. Not even the sound of him kicking something. Nothing. It was almost frightening how still he had to be to achieve that silence.
Following his blowup, the eerie silence was deafening. Not to mention the blowup itself had been… unexpected. But at the same time, almost refreshing. Jeremy had always been the most calm of the three guys. The most placid, feathers rarely ruffled. She’d always looked at Jeremy through the theory of still waters running deep. But Madison had always sensed he needed to release something. That he held back for who knew what reason.
She swiveled back around and stared once more at the papers, now a little crinkled, sitting on the computer tower. She hadn’t meant to pry, but they’d been right there. And she wasn’t about to let that go unanswered. Those papers were so simple. Just a signature committing to another three years. No pomp or circumstance involved. People walked into the office, signed, and walked back out again.
So why was he taking so long to sign them if this was what he really wanted?
She had a distinct feeling the answer revolved around his father, this legacy he mentioned, rather than any actual desire to serve more than what he’d already put in.
The bathroom door opened and he stepped out but didn’t glance her way, heading instead for the bedroom area. She started to head that direction, but a knock at the front door had her detouring.
“Can you grab that?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got it.” She snagged a pen from the desk to sign the receipt, then opened the door. “Hey, thanks for—oh, shit.”
Tim’s back was turned to the door, as if he was already heading down the steps. He turned slowly at the sound of her voice, eyes raking over her from head to toe.
In moments of high stress, Madison knew from working in the ER, the brain had the most amazing ability to move at warp speed but allow you to process the scene as if it were moving in slow motion. You could have several minutes’ worth of thoughts in only a nanosecond worth of time.
Okay. This was not a disaster. It was already past noon. She was friends with Jeremy. She could have just stopped by to hang out and watch a movie and eat some lunch. No big deal.
But when Tim’s face turned a rather unflattering shade of purple, she knew playing it off as a simple friendly visit was a no-go. The time of day might not have been a dead giveaway. But her appearance, that was another story. Her hair, still damp from the shower she’d taken, hung around her shoulders, already a little wavy as it air-dried. Her breasts, no bra in sight, were pressed against the fabric of Jeremy’s button-down shirt, a shirt that was long enough to cover the clean pair of boxer shorts she’d tossed on, and no shoes, making her look completely naked under the shirt.
She crossed her arms over her chest—partly in annoyance and partly to hide her breasts. “What are you doing here?” she asked, accusation clear in her tone.
“What am I doing—what the fuck are you doing here?”
She gave it one last-ditch effort. “What, I’m not allowed to hang out with Jeremy?”
Tim stomped to the door, standing over her by a good eight inches. Damn, she wished she was wearing heels right about now. “Squirt, you’re not dressed for a friendly game of chess and a movie, are you?”
“Don’t call me that.” She pushed at his chest. “And stop acting like this. It’s none of your business why I’m here.”
“I’m your brother. It’s always my business.”
“God, what is this? 1812? Jesus, Tim. Back off. My personal life is none of your—”
“You.” Tim uttered the single syllable with such quiet, intense menace she took a quick step back in automatic response. Never before had she feared her brother, even when they were children and fought like cats and dogs. The tone of his voice, though, was something she’d never heard before. And she didn’t like it.
But he wasn’t looking at her. No. His eyes were focused over her right shoulder.
She turned to see Jeremy standing there, with khaki cargo shorts on but hands frozen on the third button of his own button-down shirt, the rest of the fabric open to reveal his chest.
Oh, boy.
Before she could react, Tim sidestepped her and was in the apartment. One fist clenched at his side, he pointed a shaking finger at Jeremy. “I’m seeing things. Right? She’s not seriously here after spending the night. Is she?”
The question seemed to unlock Jeremy, and he finished the third button, disregarding the rest. “None of your business, O’Shay.”
“Which O’Shay? Your best friend? Or the girl you’re fucking?”
“Hey!” Madison sh
oved at his arm, but he didn’t budge. “Go home.”
“Watch yourself, Tim.” Jeremy’s voice dropped, taking on the same lethal edge that Tim’s had. “Say whatever the fuck you want about me. Leave her out of it.”
“Like you did?” Tim ran a hand over his hair. “My sister, dude. What the hell?”
“We didn’t exactly plan—”
Jeremy couldn’t finish the statement before Tim’s fist plowed straight into his jaw and knocked Jeremy to the ground. Taken off guard, he sat stunned for a moment on the floor, then stood slowly. Tim shook his right hand out, and Madison could already see the reddened skin of her brother’s hand, knew his knuckles had to be killing him. A jaw punch, bone meeting bone, was never a pleasant thing to feel… on either side.
“Oh my God, and it’s come to this.” Madison, accepting the fact there was nothing she could do to stop the insane, and completely moronic, male ritual of beating the shit out of each other, sat on the far end of the couch, arms still crossed over her chest, and mentally started triaging the possible injuries two very stupid males in a fistfight could develop.
“Broken hand,” she murmured to herself. “Dislocated elbow. Bloody nose.”
Jeremy stood slowly, carefully working his jaw back and forth. “You get one. And I deserved it. But next time I punch back.”
“Broken jaw, black eye, cracked ribs…”
“Oh, now you’re a big tough guy. What, so tough you couldn’t tell me to my face you were sleeping with my little sister?”
“Younger,” Jeremy said quietly.
“What?”
“Eyebrow gash, split lip, chipped teeth…”
“Madison,” Jeremy said softly. “She’s younger. Not little. In case you blinked and missed it, your sister’s twenty-six years old. She knows her own fucking mind. God knows I’ve tried to change it for her more than once,” he muttered at the end.
Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 23