He grabbed his running shoes, socks and a tee. He pulled the tee on and went out to sit on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and shoes.
Molly was still there but D didn’t look at her.
“So you guys are done?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yeah.”
“Stupid Holly,” she muttered, and he felt her attention remain on him. “Now you’re running? In the heat of the day?”
He glanced at her to see she didn’t look any less concerned but now also looked perplexed.
He went back to his shoes. “Yeah.”
“After doing Mady?” she pushed.
“Yeah.”
He finished tying his shoes and straightened, beginning to move to the door as Mad walked in wearing a pair of cutoff sweats, his eyes on D.
He looked concerned too.
His gaze swept Diesel top to toe.
“Goin’ for a run,” Diesel told him before he could ask.
“You’re . . . what?” Maddox asked anyway.
D walked to him and stopped.
“A run, buddy,” he said quietly, lifted a hand and wrapped it around the side of Mad’s neck. “You good?” he queried, running his thumb through the beard at Mad’s jaw.
“Yeah,” Maddox answered, brows drawn, eyes studying Diesel. “Are you?”
D nodded, his gaze dropping to Mad’s mouth as he pulled his man to him.
He took his mouth, quicker this time than when he had him positioned for him, but he still got a good taste in with his tongue.
He let him go, ignored the surprise on Maddox’s face and didn’t look at Molly altogether as he muttered, “Later.”
With that, he walked down the hall, out the front door, down the walk, to the road.
He let himself feel the heat as he pounded out the miles, focused on it entirely, the oppression, the discomfort, the sweat pouring off his body.
But even the Phoenician sun in summer couldn’t take Diesel’s mind off where he was at and what he was intent on doing.
A good hunk of time. Giving it all. Getting it all.
Having Rebel there with them that weekend.
And then, after she was gone, the weekend after that . . .
This had to end. He had to stop wasting their time. He had to make the cut so they could heal and move on.
So he was going to give it all to them.
He was going to get it all while doing that.
And then he was taking all his baggage, all his damage, all his bullshit . . .
And he was leaving.
Maddox
Molly was in the kitchen cooking their “special dinner.”
Diesel was flat out on the couch watching TV.
Maddox was in their bedroom, his phone in his hand, trying to decide if he should make a call, and if he made it, who he should call.
Rebel?
Or Sixx.
He had not made up his mind when movement at the door caught his eye and he saw D walk through.
“Hey,” he said.
“Yo,” Diesel greeted, his hand in his front jeans pocket.
He walked up to where Maddox was standing in the middle of the room, stopped, opened his mouth, shut it and looked around.
Then he looked at Mad.
“What’re you doin’ standin’ in the bedroom?”
Fuck.
Maddox didn’t have an answer for that.
He couldn’t say, With this new zone you’re in, you’re freaking me and Mol way the fuck out so I wanna know why all of a sudden Rebel’s coming down. I also wanna know if Sixx has some insight into your shit and/or has some idea how to help out. Because I’m too fuckin’ terrified of asking you to your face seeing as I thought we were getting somewhere and now I’m scared as fuck we are not.
“Got distracted,” Maddox answered vaguely.
“By what?” Diesel pushed.
With no choice, Mad had to give it to him.
Maddox looked him in the eye. “Not usual, you got a good thing goin’, workin’ me over. You fuck me quick, let me come, then take off for a run. Wonderin’ where your head is at. Strike that, worried where it’s at.”
D blew it off. “It’s all good.”
Mad stared at him. “You sure?”
“Yup,” Diesel told him and pulled his hand out of his jeans. “The money. From the job with Sixx.”
Maddox looked down to see in D’s hand several bills folded in half. They were hundreds.
He looked back up to D.
“Why are you givin’ it to me?”
“For the ring. Add it to what your folks give you.”
That seemed plausible.
Except for the part it was a lie.
“So we’re goin’ ahead with the ring?” Maddox asked.
“I think we should hang tight for a while,” Diesel answered.
Yeah.
It was a lie.
“We need to—” Mad began.
“Sixx is gonna use me again. She told me so. It might not be five hundred bucks for a couple hours of work every time, but I get the sense the pay’s gonna be good. And I’m totally going to Barclay and Josh at the Bolt, see if I can take on some shifts as DM at nights, on weekends. It might take a while, but it’ll close the gap from what we have and what we need.”
That was plausible too.
It was also a lie.
“Diesel—”
D didn’t let him finish. “You down with that plan?”
“I think she’s expecting us to move forward with the commitment,” Maddox stated. “And we can’t let her expect that too long or it’s gonna upset her nothing is happening with it.”
Diesel nodded. “I agree. And we can get the ring, if Clay and Josh take me on, in a month, maybe six weeks. We can borrow from your parents, give her the ring, use what we got to pay them back when she has the ring, so she’ll expect that money in our savings to be gone. She gets her surprise. We start paying it off. But that way, we’ll owe them less, and with me workin’ a second job, we’ll be able to pay them back faster.”
That was plausible as well.
It still felt like a lie.
“You’re bearing the brunt of that, brother, workin’ two jobs,” Mad pointed out.
There was a tightening around his cheekbones Maddox caught as D replied, “I don’t bring in as much as you do and this isn’t a discussion. I know you get me. It’s gotta be fifty, fifty. Right down the middle. So that’s somethin’ I gotta do.”
Maddox again stared right into Diesel’s eyes.
D stared back, unblinking.
When Maddox said nothing, sounding slightly impatient, D pressed, “Sound like a plan?”
“Yeah, man.”
Diesel nodded again and pushed the bills toward Maddox.
For reasons he didn’t totally understand, not liking it, Maddox took them.
The second the money exchanged hands, D turned on his bare foot and walked out of the room.
Maddox watched him go.
Then he looked down at the cash in his hand.
He had a feeling that Diesel wanted Maddox to use that money to buy Molly a ring.
The problem was, he also had a feeling that wasn’t going to be fifty, fifty for shit.
Because one of those fifties wasn’t going to stick around.
The next morning, Sunday, Molly was in her nightie, on her back in the loveseat glider out on the patio, mug of coffee on the table over her head by the arm of the seat. She had a section of the newspaper (entertainment) open, reading it with it practically obscuring her face (and entire torso).
Maddox was opposite her, in the slider facing the French doors, feet up on the ottoman, the sports section folded halfway and laying along the tops of his thighs.