“We got his address from Addie,” Tate said as we pulled up in front of a two-story house near campus. “I guess he decided against the dorms and moved in with some friends.”
I peered through Tate’s window as she parked across the street. This wasn’t Madoc’s father’s house. I’d been there once. This house, although large, was still smaller and the white paint was fresh, whereas the Caruthers’s house was made of brick. This must have been a rental for college students.
Jared and Jax climbed out of the car, and I followed Tate, gripping the door and debating about just staying with the car.
Damn! Damn! Damn! I started bobbing on my toes, and I slammed the door with too much force.
“What do we say? ‘Surprise’?” Tate asked Jared, grabbing his hand.
“I don’t care what you say. I’m gonna break his nose.” Jared stuck his other hand in his hoodie, steam damn near coming from his nose. “This is ridiculous making us all worry like this,” he mumbled.
Jared walked up the steps and pounded on the forest green wooden door, alternating between his fist and the knocker. Jax and Tate flanked him, and I stayed back. Way back.
With my hands in my pockets.
Eyes averted.
And my guilt tucked firmly up my ass.
“Can I help you?”
I spun around to see a young woman, about my age, coming up the walkway behind us.
She was dressed in a short, cute jean skirt and a Fighting Irish T-shirt. Her face sparkled in the sun with gold and navy glitter from the huge “N” and “D” painted on her cheeks.
“Yeah,” Tate spoke up. “We’re here to see Madoc. Do you know him?”
She broke out in a bright, white smile. “I’m sure he’s already at the game.”
“The game?” Jax asked.
I couldn’t dislodge the bowling ball from my throat. Who was this girl?
“Yeah, the soccer game,” she offered, walking past us up the steps. “The team’s been gone since early this morning. I came back for chairs for the after-party. Best get them now. Everyone will be too drunk later,” she laughed.
She hauled up three collapsible lawn chairs from the porch and hooked the handles over her shoulders.
“Madoc’s on a soccer team?”
I almost laughed at Jared’s question. He sounded like he wanted to vomit.
The girl stopped and cocked her head to the side, looking at him like she wasn’t sure what to say. After all, if we were his friends, we would’ve known that he played soccer, right?
“Call Madoc, would you?” Jax approached her, using a smooth voice as he shrugged. “Our phones are dead.”
She pinched her eyebrows together, knowing that he was lying. “Um, okay.”
Taking her cell from the back of her skirt pocket, she dialed and tilted her head to get the phone between her blond hair and her ear.
“Hey, babe,” she greeted, and my heart felt like someone had dug away the bottom and was letting the blood seep out.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Get Madoc, will you?” she asked, and I blinked. “He has friends at the house that want to talk to him for a minute.”
I let out a breath, but I wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with me. That wasn’t his girlfriend. But why the hell did I care if he had a girlfriend? I just hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t even entertained the idea that he’d moved on. Of course he would. I guess I thought I’d never have to see or hear of it.
I watched, seeing her smile as she shook her head.
“Well, tell his girlfriend to unwrap herself from him then,” she ordered, and my eyes flared. “His friends here seem . . . intense.” She smirked at Jared, obviously teasing him, but my chest had gone and plummeted all over again.
What the f**k?
Jax came up to the girl and took the phone she offered. “Madoc, it’s Jax,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m at your house. Tate and I want confirmation you’re not drunk, high, or suicidal. Jared’s here, but he could care less. We’ll meet you after your game, or I’ll give Tate a crowbar and set her to work on your car.”
He hung up and tossed the phone back to the girl with the abnormally raised eyebrows.
I spun around and headed down the walkway, taking a right on the sidewalk.
To hell with this.
What a stupid idea. Why did I come here?
“Fallon, wait!” Tate called behind me, but I dug into the pavement harder, quickening my steps.
She grabbed my arm and tried to turn me around, but I kept going.
“Where are you going?” she shouted.
“Back to Chicago! He’s fine. Screwing around as usual.”
The late-morning breeze rustled the leaves overhead and blew my hair into my face as I walked.
Damn him. I couldn’t believe this. I actually came thinking he was hurt or in trouble.
“Fallon.” Tate jogged right in front of me and blocked my way. “I’m confused. What’s going on?”
“He’s fine!” I pointed out, holding out my palm in the air. “Obviously! You were stupid to worry. I told you.”
He’s on a soccer team. No. He’s on the Notre Dame soccer team. And he has a girlfriend! Who has her pretty little preppy self wrapped around him right at this moment.
I’m so stupid.
I veered around Tate and kept walking.
“Stop!” she growled in a deep voice. “How are you going to get back home?”
My steps slowed, and I looked around the neighborhood, searching my brain.
Yeah, I forgot that part. I wasn’t walking back to Chicago.
“Fallon, what’s with you and Madoc?” Tate came around to face me again, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is there something going on between you two?”
“Please.” I tried to laugh it off, but it came out like a croak.
Smooth, Fallon.
“There is, isn’t there?” She smiled knowingly. “That’s what all that commotion was about when you took off with his car that night. And you’re the reason he split so early in the summer.”
I averted my eyes, checking out the super-interesting cracks in the sidewalk. Tate was a friend now. A good friend. And I couldn’t lie to her.
But I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it, either.
“Oh, my God!” she blurted out, obviously taking my silence as a confirmation. “Seriously?”
“Oh, shut up.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. “So is it hot?” she prompted.