Endlessly Beautiful (Beautiful #1.3) (3 page)

“I know,” I said, still looking down at the sink.

I dumped a small pool of blue dish soap into my palm, scrubbing my already pruny skin. As serious as I had perceived our problems in the past, we were in real trouble, both of us—because if Travis went down, we all would. I had just lied to police detectives, obstructed justice, aided and abetted, not to mention been a willing accessory before, during, and after the fact. But, I was willing to accept the consequences—whatever they were—if it meant Travis had even a chance of not going to prison.

I glanced over my shoulder at my husband. He was standing with his bulky, inked arms crossed over his middle, chatting with his cousin. He turned his white baseball cap backward, shifting his weight from one leg to the other like he couldn’t sit still. Shepley had a calming affect on Travis, and he was talking him down from whatever ledge Travis was on. I smiled and looked down at the water running over my hands, washing the suds away, wishing my hands were truly clean.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow through the windowpane that sat over the sink. My view consisted of the parking lot, the apartment units farther down, and the tops of the campus buildings peeking just over the trees a few miles away. The sky was still hazy from the smoke that had bellowed from Keaton Hall just a few days before. The fire was one of the most frightening experiences of my life, but I had lived. The fear that was just a memory for me had consumed the final moments of so many of our classmates. Their screams rang in my ears, and I closed my eyes, trying to make it stop.

I dried my hands and turned, making my way to the hall. I changed over the laundry, adding more and taking the basket full of warm, clean clothes to the bedroom and setting it on the bed. Busy is good.

Travis came in, making the basket bounce when he fell face first onto the bed. He took a few deep breaths and then turned onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling while I walk around our bed to hang my wedding dress on the curtain rod. The bare branches of the tree outside quivered in the wind. I’d watched almost every season change that tree from Travis’s bedroom window, and now it was our bedroom window.

“Remind me to take this to the cleaners and have it preserved,” I said, smoothing the skirt.

“Preserved? What the hell does that even mean?” he said with a grin.

“To keep it from yellowing. To keep it fresh.”

“For what?”

“Forever,” I said, returning to the bed. “Like us.”

Travis held my gaze for a moment, watching me walk back to him with an appreciative smile.

I resumed the tedious but welcomed task of folding our clothes from Vegas and the towels we’d used after we washed off the smoke and soot from the fire. Travis crossed his arms behind his head and sighed. “I’m not afraid to go to prison, Pidge. I’ve felt pretty much from the first time I saw you that … I dunno. It sounds perfectly normal in my head, but I know if I say it out loud …”

“Just say it.”

“I exist for you, Abby. That’s it. I’ve done everything I can do to keep from losing you. What do I do if I never get to see you again? Or get to touch your hair? See the way your eyes look in the sunlight? Feel your wet hair against my arm when I fall asleep at night? I’ve never been afraid of anything, but that scares me to death.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I said. I kept my features smooth, but everything he’s said was terrifying.

I lined up his socks and folded them into each other. That was Travis and me, one big, knotted bundle. Even when apart, we existed together.

“You can’t fix this, Abby,” he said. “I’m not going to lie. If I was wrong, I deserve to—”

“Stop,” I said, throwing the folded socks at his face. He caught it just before it hit him. “I’m your wife. Your duty is to be here with me, to protect me, to love me. You promised. We’ve always fought one battle at a time. This is no different.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes directed at the ceiling.

He sighed, and then jerked up, planting his feet on the ground. “I can’t hang around here. It’s making me crazy. Let’s go.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Pinkerton’s.”

“The car dealership? No,” I said, shaking my head.

Travis smirked. “It’s paid for. Just pick a color.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Don’t mess with me, Maddox.”

He changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a clean pair of jeans, then bent over to lace up his boots. “We’re going,” he warned.

I didn’t budge from my basket of clothes, but Travis strolled over, bumping me with his hip before pulling out one of my shirts and grabbing a hanger. In less than a minute, we had finished and put away the clothes. I stared at the closet with my arms crossed, pretending to be unimpressed with my choices.

“Just a sweater and jeans, baby. You’re beautiful. You don’t even have to try.”

My cheeks flushed red, and I looked down. Travis was my husband, but he could still make me feel like we’d just met. “They close soon, don’t they?”

“What? You don’t want a car? Vamos! Get your ass in gear, Mrs. Maddox!”

I giggled, grabbing the first pair of jeans and sweater that I touched, dressing quickly and meeting Travis in the living room. He had Shepley’s keys in his hand, his face lighting up when he saw me. He opened the door, gesturing for me to go first.

“You just do that so you can stare at my ass, don’t you?” I asked.

“You’re damn right I do,” Travis said, closing the door behind him.

We walked down the steps holding hands, and I took a deep breath. “Smells like rain.”

“Good thing we’re taking the Charger, then,” he said, opening the passenger side. He waited for me to slide in before jogging around the front to the driver’s side. Once he settled in, he held onto the steering wheel and shook his head.

“What?” I asked. “Forget something?”

“Every five minutes or so it hits me, and I can’t believe it.” He leaned over, cupping my cheeks in his hand before touching his warm lips to mine. He pulled away, twisted the key in the ignition, and then fiddled with the heater. He made a face when the country station came over the station and quickly twisted the knob, settling on whatever station was playing Dexy’s Midnight Runners. He bobbed his head, and I laughed at him as he mouthed the words, C’mon Eileen.

He pulled the gear shift down, backing out of the spot. He rested his hand on my knee, still singing and bobbing his head to the music. He knew every word. It was sort of impressive. Once in awhile he would look at me and mouth the words with such enthusiasm I couldn’t help but sing with him. By the time we reached Pinkerton’s, we were practically yelling the chorus to the theme from Dukes of Hazzard. I didn’t know all the words, but Travis did, and he sang them like he was on stage entertaining a stadium full of people. I was glad he insisted we leave the apartment. I hadn’t realized how trapped I’d felt, or how much I needed to laugh.

Travis parked the car, and stepped out. When I closed the passenger door, he walked ahead of me, reaching behind him with both hands until I intertwined my fingers in his. He wrapped my arms around him, his steps coming to a halt at the end of a short line of Toyota Camrys.

An older gentleman walked out, smoothing his tie and silver hair, preparing his spiel by clearing his throat and offering his most charming smile. Travis’s was way better.

To my surprise, he greeted Travis by name. Travis released me to shake his hand. “I was wondering when you’d be out. Is this Abby?” He shook my hand. “Richard. Nice to finally meet you.”

I craned my neck at Travis.

Travis shrugged. “I told you. Pick a color.”

I choked out a single laugh. “Are you for real?”

He held out his hands and let them fall to his thighs. “Have I ever lied to you?”

I slowly reached around his neck, feeling his muscles relax from my touch. I pushed up on the balls of my feet and gave him a quick peck, seeing Richard in my peripheral trying not to watch.

“Never.” I looked down the line of Camrys.

Richard pointed. “Attitude Black, Barcelona Red, Classic Silver, Clearwater Blue, Cosmic Gray, and Sandy Beach Metallic. We don’t have the Pearl or Magnetic Gray in stock.”

“But he can get it,” Travis added.

“Yes, of course,” Richard responded.

Travis led me down the line. “Look inside. They all have different interiors.”

I walked over to the silver car, opening the driver’s side door. “What is that? A television?”

Richard stepped closer. “That’s a uh…the navigation system and radio.” He continued to ramble off the various features as Travis encouraged me to sit inside. The interior was light gray, and the buttons around the large display screen and on the steering wheel made me think of a NASA control panel. I couldn’t imagine ever being familiar with them all.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” I said, running my fingers over the steering wheel. “I’ve never had my own car.”

Travis squatted next to me, resting his hand on the ledge inside the open door. “I’d do anything for you, Pidge. I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

I touched his cheek. “You already have.”

Travis leaned against my touch, and then pecked my palm, suddenly excited. “What do you think?”

“This one.”

“The silver?” he asked.

“The silver,” I answered.

Travis moved his head to the side, keeping his gaze on me. “You heard my wife, Richard. She wants this one.”

“Done,” Richard said. “I’ll get it ready.”

I lunged at Travis, pushing him back onto his backside. He laughed, and then cradled me on the asphalt, kissing my lips just as thunder echoed in the distance and rain began to fall from the sky.

“You happy, Pidge?” he asked.

“The happiest,” I whispered against his smiling lips.

*******************

Thank you for reading episode three of Endlessly Beautiful. Be sure to tune in next Thursday to hear from Travis!

News: BEAUTIFUL BURN is now a USA TODAY bestseller! If haven’t already, be sure to pick it up from your favorite retailer!

Yay!!! #21!

****************************************

Beautiful Burn: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 4) is available NOW!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1Lp6JYg

Google Play: bit.ly/1Ncb8i1

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1I4LScs

B&N: http://bit.ly/1T59ioP

iBooks: http://apple.co/1TKgDd4

Amazon Paperback: http://amzn.to/1LroGFq

UK paperback: http://amzn.to/1TOBCf4

Be sure to vote on this episode, and be sure to follow my Wattpad account so you’re instantly updated when I post a new part! <3

What’s Left of Right

:: Travis ::

Abby’s hand felt small but relaxed in mine as we walked down the wet sidewalk past the yellow tape surrounding Keaton Hall. The building and the muddy ground bordering the four corners of brick and stone were now a crime scene. The cops—and now the FBI—were investigating the death of thirty seven college students, most of them not old enough to buy a beer. I’d been wondering for three days when I should tell Dad, how he would take the news that his youngest son had been involved in the most tragic event in Eastern State’s history, and what he would say. I imagined the disappointment in his eyes, the worry and stress that would plague him, even after the police carted me off to prison.

The bricks over each window of the building where Adam had staged my last fight was stained black from smoke. The screams from just a few nights before still rang in my ears, and I recalled the terror I felt when I was desperately looking in the basement through the dark maze of halls for Abby. The overwhelming fear that came over me when I realized Trenton wasn’t outside with the rest of the survivors was still fresh. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end just thinking about it. Still, none of that touched the heartbreak so many parents had been feeling since the story of the fire had broke on the news. Even though Abby never missed an opportunity to say that what happened wasn’t my fault, I still felt responsible.

I paused in front of a makeshift memorial for the victims: a pile of notes, ribbons, flowers, and stuffed animals. Abby tugged on my head, pulling me forward without saying a word. She knew I was beating myself up about it, but she didn’t know I was struggling with the urge to turn myself in. The only thing that was stopping me was thinking about leaving my new wife alone.

I walked her to the building where she had her first class, and after kissing her in a way that would let anyone who saw know she was my wife, I watched her walk up the stairs and disappear behind the double glass doors.

Shepley slapped me on the shoulder. “They grow up so fast.”

I shrugged away from his grip. “Fuck off, penis breath.”

Shepley chuckled. “One of the sisters from Sig Cap already asked America if the rumor was true.”

I could feel my eyebrows slowly pull in. “What rumor?”

Shepley stared at me as if I were an imbecile. “The rumor that you married Abby.”

I adjusted my backpack and began to walk under the gray sky, feeling the morning air infiltrate my long-sleeved T-shirt. Shepley struggled to match my pace, ever so often breaking into a short jog. We didn’t speak until we reached the liberal arts building, where we both had class. I took two steps at a time, finally prompting Shepley to complain.

“For fuck’s sake, Trav. Where’s the fire?”

I stop and turned to face my cousin, clenching my teeth. “What is wrong with you?”

Shepley paled. “Sorry, man. Poor choice of words. We’re not late. We’ve still got ten minutes before class. Why are you rushing?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I said, yanking open the door.

The hall was flooded with students coming and going, flowing past one another until they parted long enough to bypass an obstacle in the center of the walkway: a glass box sitting on top of a podium. Encased inside was a bust of Gerald P. Stymie, the former president of Eastern State, and former member of Sig Tau. Mr. Stymie rushed Sig Tau with my dad and Uncle Jack, and I remembered him dropping by our house often during my formative years. He attended our holiday parties, and my mother’s funeral. He died four years after he retired, which was six years before my freshman year of college. I wondered if he would be more disappointed that I had helped orchestrate Eastern’s most tragic event, or that I wasn’t owning up to my involvement.