Beautiful Burn (Maddox Brothers #4)

by Jamie McGuire

  The door to Turk’s was opening and closing in a steady rhythm. People were walking by, quiet and curious. Until that instant, I hadn’t noticed we’d gained a small audience. Tyler acted as if we were the only two people in that alley.

  “I’m glad you came,” I whispered.

  He’d been frozen since I first grabbed him, his arms held stiffly at his sides. After a few seconds, he hugged me back. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I miss my friend.”

  His chest rose and fell as he inhaled and then breathed out, letting go of whatever he was holding on to. “Your friend.”

  “I know. I know it’s so fucking selfish,” I said, closing my eyes.

  “I guess I’ll take what I can get.” I couldn’t see his face, but he sounded crushed.

  “You promise?”

  He touched the back of my hair, and then kissed the crown of my head. “No. No, I don’t promise. Fuck this, Ellie. I don’t want to be just friends.”

  I took a step back, fidgeting. “Yeah. I get it. I mean … of course. Who would after…? It was a stupid thing to say.”

  “I told myself I wasn’t going to push it, and I pushed it. I know you’re fucked up. I’m fucked up, too. I have no clue how to navigate this, and you … goddamn, you make this a thousand times harder than it has to be. But I’m not going anywhere. I can’t. I don’t want anyone else.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Too fucking bad. We can figure it out later when you’re ready. I’ll back off, but we’re not just friends, Ellie. We never were.”

  “What if I’m never ready?”

  He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, hope glistening in his eyes. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of when you wanna be. I think you will be.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked in disbelief. “I’m a lost cause!”

  “Then so am I.”

  I covered my eyes, trying not to cry. “It’s like talking to a fucking wall! You’re not hearing me, and I’m not that good of a person to pretend I don’t want you in my life. I’m trying to do you a favor, Tyler. You have to go away. You have to be the one to do it. I’ve tried. I can’t.”

  “I’ve already told you,” he said. “I’m in love with you. That’s not going away.” He cleared his throat. “Are you going to Wick’s for Thanksgiving?”

  I blinked, shaken by the sudden swing in conversation. “What? No.”

  “Not home? Not somewhere with your family?”

  “Finley asked. I’m just not … ready.”

  “Why don’t you come home to Eakins with me?”

  “Come home with you.”

  He breathed out a laugh, frustrated. “It’s going to be tough. It’ll probably be awkward. But no matter how hard it is, it’ll be easier than you being alone—and easier on me than worrying that you’re alone on Thanksgiving.”

  I considered his offer. “I feel like this is a crossroads.”

  He grinned, holding out his hand. “So cross with me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “What’s wrong?” Tyler asked, nudging my knee with his.

  I shook my head, staring at the back of the driver’s head. Travis’s window was cracked while he smoked and chatted with his wife, neither of them thinking to adjust the heat while the frigid air filled the car.

  Travis was too big for the tiny silver Toyota Camry he was driving, smiling far too often at his wife. They were holding hands, chatting about their break from their sophomore year of college, and how this Thanksgiving would be better than the year before.

  She lifted their hands and slammed them down on the console, feigning insult. “Really? You had to bring that up.”

  He grinned, smug. “If it gets me some sympathy points, baby, you’re damn right I’m bringing it up.”

  She made a show of settling back into her seat, failing miserably at pretending to be angry. “No points for you. Be nice or I won’t marry you again.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, staring at her as if she were the most beautiful star in his universe. “Yeah, you will.”

  The two of them were engulfed in their own world, barely noticing Tyler or me, even though Travis had nearly tackled us at the terminal. He and his wife, Abby, had picked us up from the airport in Chicago, and I was freezing in the backseat, dodging the occasional flicked cigarette ash. The handholding and incessant happiness was making me slightly nauseated, and I was beginning to regret agreeing to come.

  “Hey,” Tyler said, gently patting my knee. “It’s going to be great.”

  Travis rolled up his window, and then turned up the heat.

  I fantasized about flicking the back of his ear and blaming it on Tyler.

  “Are you nervous?” Abby asked, turning around to face me. She looked me directly in the eye, beautiful and confident. Her caramel hair was long and effortlessly beautiful, her gray eyes so intense anyone else would have squirmed under her stare. I wondered if it was because her husband was the most intimidating person I’d ever met, or that she had her own badassery to offer.

  “No. Should I be?” I asked.

  “I was a little nervous at my first Maddox Thanksgiving.”

  Tyler punched the back of her seat. “That’s because you were pretending to still be with Travis.”

  “Hey!” Travis said, reaching back to swat at his brother.

  “Quit! Stop! Now!” Abby commanded. She reminded me of me at the barracks with twenty misbehaving boys.

  “Oh, you weren’t together last year?” I asked. “I thought you were married this past March.”

  “We were,” Travis said, a ridiculous grin on his face.

  Abby smirked, inviting me to judge them. “We got in a huge fight—a lot of huge fights, actually—broke up, and then eloped to Vegas. We’re renewing our vows in St. Thomas in March on our anniversary.”

  “Ellie’s coming to that, too,” Tyler said. “She’s my plus one.”

  “We talked about it,” I said quickly. “I don’t think I’ve RSVP’d just yet.”

  “Is that a camera?” Abby asked, looking down at the bag in my lap.

  “It is.”

  “So are you a professional photographer, or is that just to capture the Maddox family Thanksgiving shenanigans?”

  “She’s the photographer for the magazine in Estes Park. She follows the local hotshots around—did a whole write-up.”

  “I’d like to see your work,” Abby said. “We need a photographer for the wedding. What do you charge?”

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “You don’t charge?” Travis asked. “You’re hired!”

  “She’s really good,” Tyler said.

  “Now you have to come,” Abby said.

  Tyler elbowed me, satisfied.

  Abby narrowed her eyes at her brother-in-law. “How did you two meet?”

  “At a party,” Tyler said, clearing his throat.

  “What kind of party?”

  “My party,” I said.

  “So you live in Estes Park?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you graduate from there?”

  “Abby, for fuck’s sake. What’s with the third degree?” Tyler asked.

  “I’m just making conversation,” Abby said with a relaxed smile. She was very good at something. I just wasn’t sure what.

  I lifted my chin. “My parents have a house there. I lived there until recently. Now I work at the magazine and have an apartment in Estes Park.”

  “How did you end up at her parents’ house for a party, Tyler? Are they clients of yours?” Abby asked.

  “Nope,” Tyler said, staring out the window.

  Abby glanced over at Travis. “He’s lying.”

  Tyler shot her a look.

  “Okay, Pidge,” Travis said, amused. “Enough detective work for one day.”

  “Is that what you do?” I asked. “Are you a cop?”

  Everyone laughed but me.

  “No,” Abby said. “I
’m a college student. I tutor math a few nights a week.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you should look into that.”

  Abby seemed pleased. “Did you hear that, Trav? I should be a cop.”

  He kissed her hand again. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

  “Me either,” Tyler said. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “He gets a little crazy when it comes to her.”

  “I know someone like that,” I said.

  Tyler mulled over my words, and then smiled, clearly taking it as a compliment.

  We pulled into the drive of a small house with a detached garage and a hideous red Dodge Intrepid in the drive. A round, older gentleman stepped outside with another muscled brother, the same buzz cut and inked arms as Travis and the twins.

  “Trent?” I asked.

  Tyler nodded.

  When Travis parked the car, Tyler hopped out and knocked on the trunk until Travis popped it open. He dug out our backpacks and slung them over his shoulder.

  “You pack lighter than me,” Abby said. “I’m impressed.”

  I smiled, still unsure if she planned to be friend or foe.

  “Come in, come in,” Mr. Maddox called to us.

  Tyler bear-hugged his father and punched Trent in the arm before hugging him, too.

  “Trent,” he said, shaking my hand.

  “Ellie,” I replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “We’re so glad you decided to come,” Mr. Maddox said.

  “I appreciate you having me, Mr. Maddox.”

  He chuckled, flattening his palm over his belly like a pregnant woman fawning over her ripe baby bump. “It’s just Jim, kiddo. Come in out of the cold! We’ve had a mean cold snap this week.”

  Trent held open the creaking screen door as we passed, and I stepped into their tiny home, the worn carpet and furniture an ode to the house from A Christmas Story. I half expected Ralphie to be standing at the top of the stairs in a pink bunny suit, and then smiled as I remembered watching that movie on numerous Thanksgiving evenings from my father’s lap, swaying as he belly laughed for over an hour.

  I inhaled stale smoke and the smell of old carpet, feeling strangely at ease. We paused in the kitchen, watching a girl washing dishes at the sink dry her hands and reach her ink-covered arms for Tyler. He hugged her, and then she shook my hand. Her fingers were pruny from the sudsy water, but I could still make out the word baby doll across her knuckles. A diamond stud sparkled in her nose, and beneath the thick eyeliner, she was stunningly beautiful. Everything from her razored bob to her timid smile reminded me of Paige.

  “This is Cami,” Trent said.

  “Or Camille,” she said. “Whichever you prefer. Nice to meet you.”

  “Cami belongs to Trent,” Abby said, pointing to the correct brother.

  “Actually … I belong to her,” Trent said.

  Camille lifted her shoulder, standing on the side of her foot. “I think I’ll keep him.”

  “You better,” Trent said, winking at her.

  Tyler cleared his throat. “Where are we sleeping?”

  “I’ll take you,” Abby said.

  She kissed her husband on the cheek, and then led us upstairs to a bedroom with a bunk bed and a dresser. Dusty frames with dirty boys and school pictures of Taylor and Tyler with oversized teeth and shaggy hair hung on the paneled walls. Baseball and football trophies crowded a bookshelf.

  “Here you are,” Abby said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She perched her hands on her hips, taking one last glance around the room to make sure it was suitable before we settled in. “Clean sheets on the beds. Bathroom is down the hall, Ellie.”

  “Thank you.”

  “See you downstairs,” Abby said. “Cami and I are starting some of the food if you want to come down. Poker later.”

  “Don’t play with her,” Tyler said, pointing at Abby.

  “What? Does she cheat?” I asked.

  “No, she’s a fucking hustler. She’ll take all your money.”

  “Not all of it,” Abby said, glaring at him. “I give some of it back.”

  Tyler grumbled something under his breath, and Abby left us alone, closing the door behind her. The room suddenly felt tiny, and I peeled off my coat.

  “Ellie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You look wound pretty tight.”

  “I need a beer and a cigarette.”

  He held out his soft pack and his lighter, walking a few steps to crack the window. I flicked the lighter and breathed in deep, holding in lungs full of smoke until I kneeled beside the window and exhaled.

  Tyler lit his own, reaching behind the dresser and pulling out a small red bowl with cutouts on the rim.

  “Secret ashtray?” I teased.

  “Yeah. He never found it. We were pretty proud of that.”

  “Rebels.”

  Tyler took a drag and blew it out the window, looking down at his old neighborhood. “I beat the shit out of Paul Fitzgerald on that corner. And Levi … damn … I can’t remember his last name. Weird. I thought I’d remember those kids forever. Do you remember all of your childhood friends?”

  “They’re mostly all still around. Some of them OD’d. Some of them committed suicide. The rest are around. I see them at charity galas now and then. Well … I used to … when I went to charity galas.”

  “What is a charity gala, exactly?” Tyler asked.

  We both laughed, and I shook my head, taking one last drag before mashing the end of my cigarette into Tyler’s secret ashtray. “An asshole magnet.”

  “Well, it’s for a good cause, right?”

  I snorted, and then stood, putting my pack on the lower bunk and opening the zipper. “Dibs,” I said, setting my things on the bed. When Tyler didn’t answer, I turned to catch him staring at me. “What?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just cool … you being here.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. I’m sorry for being a cranky bitch.” I swallowed, and my throat felt dry and tight. Jim seemed like a beer guy, and I hoped he would have a six-pack or two in the fridge downstairs. It was all I could do not to run down and yank open the door to find out.

  I ran my fingers across the spines of the few books that stood next to his trophies.

  “James and the Giant Peach?” I asked.

  “Hey. That’s a damn good book.”

  “Calling you a peach seems fitting now.”

  “Shut it,” Tyler said, holding the ashtray out the window and turning it upside down to empty its contents. He pushed the windowsill down, latching it closed.

  “So … what’s with Abby the cop?”

  I sat on the bed, and Tyler sat next to me, taking my hand and sliding his fingers between mine. “We never bring anyone home, so she’s hypersensitive about it. She’s our sister … overprotective.”

  “It’s fine. I like her.”

  He stared at the carpet, breathing out a laugh. “Me, too. She really saved this family … saved Travis … in more ways than one.”

  “They really love each other. It’s kind of gross.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. They used to fight all the time. Broke each other’s hearts. When they broke up, I thought Trav was gonna lose it. Now look at them. They are crazy happy.”

  “They make it look easy—like anyone could make it work.”

  “It is easy, Ellie.”

  “I’m not Abby.”

  “She’s had a lot happen, too. If you heard her story, you might feel a little differently about things.”

  “I doubt that. I thought we weren’t going to talk about this.”

  “Talk about what?”

  I glared at him, and he smiled at me, his dimple appearing and making it impossible for me to stay mad.

  “I wanna be gross with you,” he said.

  “Well … when you put it that way…”

  He leaned in, grazing his lips across mine. My body instantly reacted, craving nothing else but him. I reached under his shirt, running m
y fingertips up his back.

  “No,” he whispered. “I don’t mean that.” He pulled away, fishing my hands from his shirt. He sighed. “It’ll be a year ago tomorrow night that I saw my baby brother in more pain than I’d ever seen him in before.”

  “Looks like it all worked out, though.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. I look at them and remember what it took to get there, how confused and stubborn Abby was and how Trav never gave up.”

  “Tyler…”

  “Don’t say it. We’ve got a whole weekend left.”

  He kissed the corner of my mouth and then stood, pulling me up with him. We walked downstairs, hand in hand. Abby eyed us until Tyler let me go to join his brothers in the next room.

  “Still just friends?” Abby asked.

  “You get right to the point, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “No sense in beating around the bush. These boys have been through a lot. For some reason they’re also gluttons for punishment.”

  “I guess you’d know,” I said, pushing up on the counter to sit and grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl. I rubbed it on my jeans and took a bite. “Who interrogated you for Travis?”

  Abby arched an eyebrow. “Touché.”

  “Easy, girls. We’re all on the same side, here,” Camille said while I crunched.

  Abby smirked. “Are we?”

  “Tyler is a friend,” I said.

  Camille and Abby traded knowing glances, and then Abby leaned on the counter next to me. “That’s what we all say. So … are you going to bring that camera to my wedding?”

  I looked at the two of them gazing back at me expectantly. Finally, I nodded twice, slow and emphatic. “I’d be honored.”

  “America is going to shit,” Camille warned.

  “Who’s America?” I asked.

  Abby seemed amused. “My best friend. She’s planning the whole thing. She doesn’t like it when I interfere.”