Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Shortstop, you’ll be there tonight.” Caden didn’t word it as a question, so I shrug.

“We’re doing it at our house, so you don’t have clean-up duty.” Like that’s an incentive. Cleaning has been my solace this week. I’ve scrubbed every surface in our house whether it needs it or not. I shocked the shit out of the guys when I did their laundry, and in turn they spoiled me with Outback for dinner. Jack deposited money in my account for spending, but I’m thinking of starting a side business of laundry and cleaning for spending money, so I’m not dependent on anyone. My mom doesn’t want me getting a job first semester to give me time to adjust, but I hate being a burden. This crew spends money and shops like it grows on trees, and I cringe. I brought coupons to the grocery store, and they thought that was hilarious. I chipped in my third, but it was extreme. I could have this lifestyle, but I refuse to let Jack supplement me like that.

“Who’s cleaning up?” Maybe I could start my business venture.

“We hired a service to come in the morning.”

“How much?”

“A few hundred.” Caden shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“I’ll do it for a hundred.”

“No way, Shortstop,” Mason refuses.

“Please?” I smile at him, hoping it will work. Emberlee does it all the time, but she’s spreading her legs for him, so she may have the upper hand.

“You need the money?” Caden is studying me.

“Yep.”

“Fuck. I don’t want you cleaning up after us.” They both stare at one another. “Fine, but you take three hundred for it.”

“No way. But thanks.”

“And you come to the party.” Mason throws the gauntlet down. I didn’t want to go to the party; I’m a freak in social situations. But I want the money and job.

“Deal. But I don’t have to stay the whole time.” Mason goes to argue, but Deacon interrupts us.

“You have any milk?” he asks them while watching me.

“No,” they both answer.

“We do. I’ll go get it.” I hurry to my house. As much as I’m drawn to Deacon, I avoid him like the plague.

Pouring some milk in a cup, I hear Emberlee and Avery arguing. “You’re crossing a line Lee Lee. She made her choice.”

“You don’t get it, Avery. She wanted out. You didn’t live like we did. Militant lifestyle. Each step of your life planned.”

“Save me the sob story. She broke his fucking heart, and you’re supposed to be his friend.”

“I’m hers, too. I can’t turn my back on her like you all did. He has Julie. He’s fine. She isn’t.”

“Just don’t bring that bitch over here. I never want to see Adriane’s face again.” Ah, the ex. I guess they didn’t all cut ties. No wonder Emberlee doesn’t like me. She feels I’m the replacement, and she isn’t ready to let go of her friend like the others.

I head back to the guys’ house, and the door is wide open. Pigs. “Why the fuck did you agree to her cleaning your house? She isn’t your maid.”

Whoa. Angry Deacon is scary. “Dude, we’re paying her. She needs the money.”

“So give it to her.”
Oh hell no!

“Here’s your milk, and I’m not a fucking charity case. I’ll work for my money.” I’m pissed. How dare he try and buy me.

“Saylor, we can help.”

“I have a rich stepdad who can help. I don’t want it. I’ll make my own way.” I give him my dirtiest look and watch as he shakes his head and slinks out. I’m not mad at Caden and Mason, but they start talking over one another.

“Shortstop, give the guy a break.” Caden wraps his arm over my shoulders.

“He’s a fixer. That’s what he does. He means no harm.” Mason clucks my chin and grabs a bottle of water.

“I don’t care. I’m not his responsibility or his burden. He seems wrapped up in Julie, and I don’t need to be on his radar.” I’m disgusted he’s defending and championing me while Julie is his priority – everyone reminds me.

“It’s different.” Caden tries to explain, but I hold up my hand refusing to hear their excuses – but it doesn’t stop him.

“Deacon’s changed since Julie. We all try to help him, but he’s determined to make this work on his own.” I roll my eyes. “We miss him and make allowances because he’s stretched pretty thin. We just want what’s best for him, and if you’d get to know him you’d see what a great guy he is.” Caden is imploring me to understand. I can feel the conviction in his words. I can also see how much he misses his friend. I hope my attitude isn’t creating a bigger divide.

“To get to know him he’d have to be available. That’s one thing Deacon isn’t lately,” Mason grumbles, but there’s no anger in his words – just somberness.

I stewed all afternoon, the conversation like a constant loop playing in my mind. Getting ready for the party I slammed my brush, dropped my mascara, poked my eye with eyeliner. That tete a tete threw my entire day off kilter. Standing like a statue at this party isn’t my idea of fun, and my sourpuss face shows it.

Avery cornered me. “What’s your problem?” She presses a drink in my hand. I sip it; it’s strong as hell, but I’ll take it.

I repeat the conversation I overheard, and she stares at me like I’m an idiot. “You’re mad at him for that?”

“Yes. I don’t like handouts. He doesn’t know me.”

“Because you hold him at arms-length. I’m telling you, he’s a good guy. He doesn’t know your story because he isn’t around that much. He has other responsibilities.” Yes, Julie. I get it. I hear her name enough. I feel like these conversations are on constant repeat . . . maybe I’m the culprit. I have this resistance and pull to him. “Just don’t rush to judge him.” I watch her mingle and feel regret. I don’t want her annoyed at me, and maybe I
did
overreact.

Leaning against the wall, I watch the party and let the alcohol loosen me up. “Hey.” I look over and some tall guy in a tight shirt leans next to me. His hair falls over his forehead in a boyish, bad news way. “I’m Alec.”

“Saylor.” I smile at him. This guy is wasted.

“I know. I asked about you. I play ball with the guys.”

“Ah. Nice to meet you.”

“Wanna get out of here?” His nose is pressed against my cheek, and he gives me the creeps.

“I’m good.” I push off the wall, trying to exit. His hand grabs my forearm, holding me there.

“Come on. You know you want to.” His grip tightens, and I panic.

“Really, I’m fine.” I see Mason in my line of vision, and I call to him. “Mace.” He turns and makes his way to me.

“You good?” His eyes go to where Alec has a hold of me.

“Yeah. Can you tell your teammate to let go of me?” Alec releases my arm and leaves, throwing a nasty look over his shoulder. I watch him walk off and take a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“You okay, Shortstop?” He’s looking at the hand mark left from his friend.

“I’m good. Ready to leave.”

“Let me walk you home.”

“Thanks, Mace. You’re a good guy.”

“So’s DD.” He winks at me. Not gonna happen. I look at his shirt and die laughing. ‘I have A.D.D.’ is written across it, and underneath it reads ‘A Delicious Dick.’

“That shirt . . . shouldn’t it be Deacon’s?”

“Nah, he has his hands full.” See, this is what I don’t get. His hands are full with Julie, and an ex that is still lurking, but people are trying to get me to get to know him. He seems like he is interested in me, but that makes him an asshole. Dude doesn’t know what he wants. I’ve had experience with that type of male, and I am not looking for a repeat performance. My dad left a lasting impression.

I kiss Mason’s cheek with a, “Night.” I give a little wave as I make my way across the yard under his watchful gaze.

I reach for my journal . . . the words won’t come because my head is a jumbled mess. Tossing my pen aside and putting my journal back, I snuggle in bed and drift off.

The disaster that awaits me is worth three hundred bucks. Why did I demand a lower rate? Fuck, they are messy. I try to be as quiet as I can, letting Florida Georgia Line pump in my ears. In a little under two hours, I have the place manageable. I just need to vacuum as I survey the room and put the mop away.

“Hey, Shortstop.” Caden pats my head as he steps into the kitchen—promptly busting his ass on the wet floor. I can’t help my laughter. I know I shouldn’t, but Captain Obvious watched me put the mop away.

Mason comes around the corner. “If we’re getting wet and wild on the floor, count me in.”

“Pig.” I roll my eyes. He helps Caden to his feet, and I try and stifle my giggle. “I’ll be done in a few.”

“No rush, we’re gonna go next door and lift for a bit.”

“So, what position do you play?”

“Pitcher.” Mason grins. Cocky ass.

“Catcher,” Caden mumbles, chugging orange juice from the carton. UGH.

I mull it over and laugh. “So Mason, you’re the pitcher in this relationship?”

His eyes widen. “Shut it, Shortstop.” Turning to Caden, he asks, “How’d we miss that for fifteen years?”

He shrugs. “Shortstop has a dirty mind.”

Mason rubs his hands together. “My kind of girl.”

“Ew. Y'all are disgusting.”

“You brought it up. I’d be the pitcher for you.”

“How soon you forget. I don’t do average.” I let my eyes drift down to his dick. His hands cover it as he scoffs.

“I’m not average.” Stomping to his room like a two-year-old, Caden laughs.

“You’ve got his number.”

I grin. “See y’all. I’m gonna finish up and head home.”

“We’ll be over for dinner. Deacon is being social tonight.” I swallow and nod. That thrills me and scares me at the same time. I grab the rag by his side, and he freezes. “What happened to your arm?”

I look down. I should have known I’d bruise. “No big deal. Alec didn’t want me to leave last night.” His body tenses, his eyes form slits, and he storms off.

“MASON!” I turn on the vacuum and drown them out.

I fret over if I should change or just be like normal. Sweats and shirt? Or shorts and tank top? Fuck, why do I care? “Pizza’s here,” Avery calls. Decision made. Sweats it is.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask her, not realizing it’s Deacon in the kitchen.

“Nothing. I made Mason and Caden buy since they shorted you on money.”

“They didn’t. They paid what we negotiated.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t what was deserved. I’ve seen their house after their parties. It should be fumigated or condemned. I just left there, and you can’t tell they had a party last night.”

“Thanks.” I grab a plate and grab a slice.

“Aren’t you hot?” He eyes my outfit. I decided to wear a sweatshirt after Caden freaked over the bruises. I didn’t need any more outbursts.

“Nah,” I lie. “I think I’m getting a cold.” Perfect excuse for retiring to my room after dinner . . . away from him.

I don’t head to bed. I sit and listen to the banter, laugh with them, see their connection, and feel them including me. The dynamics wrap me up, hold me close, and make me feel like maybe I finally belong somewhere. Until Emberlee opens her mouth when everyone leaves.

“He watches you.” She sneers with displeasure.

“Who?”