LIVE TO TELL: A Fake Fiancé Romance (Material Girls Book 2) Read online

“I wouldn’t dare assume I know anything about the motivations or actions of someone who isn’t here to answer himself.”

  “Why isn’t he here?” I look around the yard. “Even if Maddie fell into the pool on accident? Why wouldn’t he help her out or stay to finish their discussion? Why would he leave abruptly?”

  Cookie’s icy gaze turns harder. “I believe I’ve already addressed that question. I cannot comment on Trent’s motivations. He’s a busy man. I can only assume he had plans that didn’t include loafing around a pool with Madeline.”

  I scoff and try to tuck my hands in my pockets, but my jeans are soaked and there’s no way I can shove a hand inside the wet denim.

  Cookie continues, “This matter is not your business, and if you continue to act as if it were, you can pack up your equipment and never return to this house.”

  “I’ve said all I need to say.” I lift my hand to tip my baseball hat, and realize it’s not there because I threw it to the ground when I ran to the pool. With no hat to tip, I end up giving her a weird salute and walk away. No reason to argue any further with the woman of the house and lose my job. Though it wouldn’t hurt me too bad financially if I lose this job, I lose the precious few moments I get to see Maddie. That’s worth more than money to me.

  By the time I get back to work, my crew has finished the backyard. Instead of hopping on my mower to help them get started in the front, I walk to the far corner of the Commons’ backyard and settle down beneath the shade of their huge black walnut tree. Resting my back against the trunk, I stretch my legs, hoping that any minute Maddie will run out and spill her guts, like she did when we were teenagers.

  I long for those days again. Two kids, sitting shoulder to shoulder, talking about our lives as if we were each other’s therapist—and best friend. A neutral third party there to listen, without judgment, to whatever was going on at the time.

  She helped me ace my first public speaking assignment in freshman year of high school, giving me pointers for how to engage and charm my audience while making my point. She talked me out of beating the shit out of a punk kid who keyed my truck in junior year. And she consoled me after my grandfather died suddenly of a massive heart attack.

  That was the subject of our very last conversation under the black walnut. Two days before his funeral—the day she was supposed to leave for college in Savannah—I sat with her under our tree and broke down in sorrow and hopelessness. Other than my grandparents, she’s the only person I’ve ever let see me cry.

  Though I’d turned eighteen a month before and thought I should be strong and stoic in the face of tragedy, she didn’t make me feel like less of a man. She didn’t make me feel weak. She held me in her arms and let me sob. Then she told me her favorite stories about him.

  Two days later, when I thought she’d be moving into her dorm, there she was, standing next to Cookie and Harris during my grandfather’s funeral. That selfless support is the reason I’ve never been able to get Madeline Commons out of my mind—even after years of barely seeing each other. Maybe our friendship was odd, but it was true.

  Maddie would have drowned had no one else been around to see what happened. I don’t consider myself a hero, by any means, but I’m relieved I was working at that particular moment. Almost like I was meant to be there.

  Though the tree shades me from direct sunlight, there’s still enough peeking through the branches to help dry me off. The water on my skin evaporates almost immediately. My T-shirt won’t take very long to dry once I get back on my mower, but my jeans are soaked, and wet denim is one the of most uncomfortable things in the world.

  But not as uncomfortable as seeing how quickly Maddie and Cookie swept what Trent did under the rug. I’ve had a suspicion he was abusive to her, just by the way I’ve heard him talk to her in those moments when I’m working on the yard, and they’re laying by the pool. I try not to listen, but it happens sometimes.

  I used to be able to keep a better watch on her. But that’s the thing about growing up and moving on. Maddie hasn’t lived with her parents since she came back from college. We barely see each other or talk anymore, though I like to believe she drops by on Tuesdays because she knows I’ll be here. Maybe that childhood friendship has run its course and I should stop expecting anything.

  I have a feeling she’s not coming out today. She could barely look at me, which I take as a huge red flag that this really isn’t the first time he’s done something this bad. It’s just the first time anyone saw it.

  The longer I sit, the angrier I get. I want to beat the living shit out of that Trent guy. If I ever see him again…

  Nope. I can’t let my brain travel down that road of thinking. No matter how much I’d like to, I can’t. I’ve had to be very careful over the last few years to live my life as the most law-abiding citizen that ever existed, without so much as a speeding ticket. For me, getting in trouble comes with worse consequences than it does for others. Getting in trouble means I seal my fate of never seeing Maddie again.

  Chapter Three

  Maddie

  When Mama enters the house after talking to Erik, she’s muttering something under her breath. I hear the words, “the audacity,” and immediately know she’s talking about Erik’s story that Trent pushed me into the pool. I scramble to get off the couch because I don’t want to face her, but as soon as I try to rise, I feel so lightheaded, I fall back into the cushions. There’s a part of me that thinks, even if I did tell the truth, she wouldn’t believe me—or wouldn’t accept it as the truth. Trent is an upstanding man from a good family—he could never have done what Erik accused him of.

  “You sit right back down, Madeline,” she says, pointing to the couch. Normally, I’d do as I’m told. Sometimes I miss the little things about being at home, like being taken care of by my parents when I’m ill or hurt. Knowing Mama will always wait on me makes me feel secure.

  But even with a throbbing headache, I can’t sit here and let Mama fuss over me when Erik is waiting. We have to talk about what happened. I need to thank him at the very least.

  “I’m fine, Mama. My head hurts a little, but it’ll be okay,” I lie, eyeing the small puddles of water from where Erik’s soaking-wet frame dripped onto the floor. “I can clean up all that water.”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. Now let me take a look,” she says, crossing the room to stand in front of me. “Where did you hit your head?”

  “Right here.” I point to the back.

  She parts my wet hair and inspects the area. Then she moves her fingers along my scalp. “There’s a bump right here. Does it hurt when I—”

  “Ouch!” I yelp as she presses her fingers into the sensitive spot.

  “I’ll get a bag of peas.”

  “What am I going to do with a bag of peas, Mama?”

  “Hold it against your head to help with swelling.” She shakes her head as she walks to the freezer, grabbing a green-and-white bag and bringing it to me. “It’s like an ice pack.”

  I set it on the bump, wincing at the sharp sting against my scalp. As if another altercation with Trent wasn’t enough to fray my nerves, now I’m sitting on a couch at my parents’ house with wet, stringy hair and a bag of produce on my head. I’m mortified Erik saw me like this—minus the peas.

  My body finally registers the assault of air conditioning, frozen vegetables, and my lack of clothing with an involuntary tremor. I curl my knees up and hug them to my chest, trying to warm up. No such luck. Time to change out of this bikini and warm up before I go out to meet him. Maybe he’ll forget about how hideous I looked when he dragged me from the pool.

  Crap! My beach bag is outside. Hopefully there’s a random pair of shorts in a drawer in my room upstairs. They’re probably from high school or college, but I haven’t gained too much weight since then, so they should still fit. Heck, if they’re a little snug, it’ll just make me more bootylicious.

  But even booty shorts won’t help if my hair looks like overcooked spaghett
i noodles.

  “Do you have a headache?” Mama asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “The bump is tender to the touch, but the ache isn’t too bad.” It is, but if I tell Mama the extent of the pain, she’ll never let me leave the house. Instead, I make a mental note to grab some ibuprofen when she’s not looking.

  “That’s good.” Mama returns to the sink, which is where she was before Erik burst through the doors with me in his arms. “You need to be more careful.”

  “I know. I’m going upstairs to dry off,” I say, gingerly rising from the couch. Moving sucks, but I can lie down later. I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep with a head injury anyway.

  Once in my room, I dig through my drawers, looking for anything to throw on. All I can find are a pair of tight, black yoga shorts I used to wear for cheerleading practice. I remove my damp bathing-suit bottoms and slide the shorts up. I can’t go out with a rando bikini top. Riffling through the drawer once more, I grab a pink tank top and ease it over my head.

  I’m not sure why I’m more concerned with what I look like than the matter at hand, but I reckon everyone handles stress differently. When I can’t quite process a situation, I focus on the things I’m good at—pulling myself together and talking are two of those things.

  Normally, my heart races when I’m around Erik because he’s hot as hell. This time, it’s fueled by fear and shame. No one has ever seen Trent hurt me before, so I’ve never had to talk about it. I could always push it back in the corner of my mind and ignore it. But not this time. This time, I have to face it because Erik’s not going to let it go.

  As much as admitting what Trent has been doing is freaking me out, I know that this is my chance to finally tell the truth and get the weight off my chest. I feel safe sharing with Erik. I’d like to say he was the protective brother I never had, but I’ve always had a crush on him, so it seems really gross to think of him that way. I know he’s going to do whatever he can to help me. I never would have asked for it, but now that I have the chance, I’m going to use it.

  It’s a relief and nerve-wracking at the same time. Maybe this is my chance to stand up to Trent, to stop the cycle I’ve allowed for the entire time we’ve been together.

  Before attempting the stairs, I pull my disheveled hair into a high ponytail. Then I grip the rail tightly as I take slow, deliberate strides. My head pulses with every step and I have to stop midway because I feel like I may pass out. Dizziness and pain won’t stop me. I have to get to Erik, no matter how much it hurts.

  I breeze past Mama in the kitchen as if I’m totally fine, and slip out the French doors into the backyard. Once my bare feet touch the silky grass, my heartbeat speeds up and I want to run, but I know that’s pushing it. I lift my hand to my head and hold the bump as if that will allow me to move quicker. The pressure helps slightly, enough to increase my speed to match one of those fast walkers who do laps around the mall before it opens in the morning.

  When I reach the black walnut, Erik isn’t there.

  Geez oh Pete. Tears prickle in my eyes. Trekking across the yard was no small feat with a head injury. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, getting my bearings before scanning the area. My gaze ping-pongs to various parts of the yard, but no one is around. Thankfully, I hear the sound of a mower coming from the front, so I know they haven’t left yet. If only one of the guys left a riding mower back here. I could hop on and zoom to the front.

  But they didn’t and I’m determined to reach Erik, so I grit my teeth and shuffle to the front yard. He’s easy to spot as he zooms across the grass on his green-and-silver riding mower. He always looks like he’s having a blast when he’s on it. Huge headphones cover his ears, head bobbing to whatever tunes fill his head.

  I can only remember one time when Erik didn’t look like he was enjoying life—when I opened my eyes to him kneeling next to me earlier. I never want to see him look at me like that again.

  Wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts, I cut straight across the yard, zeroing in on my target. The target is moving, but I’m hoping he sees me and meets me somewhere in the middle. Exhaustion kicks in, making the yard seem almost as daunting as it did when I was a kid trying to cross it with short, stubby legs, but I refuse to let the pain get in my way. I have all evening to rest and one chance to get this done.

  When Erik sees me coming at him, he stops the mower abruptly and jumps off. He pushes his headphones down so they hang around his neck. “Maddie, you look like you’re about to pass out. You should go back inside.”

  A dirty, worn, Real Madrid baseball cap covers his hair and hoods his eyes. He looks sexy as all get-out.

  There’s a story behind that hat. When I noticed the tattered ball cap he always sported had gotten too small for his head, I got him a new one, and he’s worn it ever since. I’m not saying that ever had anything to do with me. Not gonna lie, I had to google what Real Madrid was. Once I realized it was a soccer team—his favorite team—I pretended I knew the team and the game. Which is hilarious because the only reason I know the difference between a soccer ball and a basketball is because they’re different colors.

  “I’m fine,” I lie, ignoring the pain as well as the itchiness already needling my ankles and shins. I’ve always been allergic to grass. That should have been a warning to keep my distance from Erik from the beginning. But I couldn’t stay away. The mild irritation is a minor consequence for the chance to be with him again. Too much of a good thing can be bad for us, but it doesn’t mean we stay away. It’s like one of my favorite poems says—even sunshine burns if you get too much.

  “Please let me explain what happened,” I say.

  The initial rush of panic subsides and a flash of something—maybe relief—crosses his face. “No need, Ms. Commons.” He dismisses me, like so many of my parents’ employees have over the years. Agree with the Commons daughters. Do what they want. Don’t make waves.

  But he’s not just an employee, he’s my friend—or he was my friend, and it kills me that he’s talking to me like this. Maybe because we’re out in the open rather than behind our tree. Maybe because Mama probably railed him. Maybe because he wants to be rid of me.

  “Please look at me.” I place my hand on his forearm to steady myself after a dizzy spell overtakes me. Erik’s eyes shoot to mine. Surprised, yet cautious. Underneath my hand, his skin is already sweaty and warm. “You saved my life, Erik.”

  “You make what I did sound heroic, but it wasn’t.” He shakes his arm out from under my touch and crosses both over his chest. “It was human. What kind of person would let you drown?”

  As soon as he says the words, his mouth straightens into a grim line. We both know exactly who would let me drown. The same kind of person who would push me into a pool in a fit of rage—Trent.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re right.”

  “I know. But it’s not my business. Nothing you do is my business anymore.”

  The words cut straight to my soul. Our friendship dwindled when I went to college. We still saw each other during the summer, but it was never the same as it was during middle school and high school. He was my favorite person to talk to, even though we never met up outside of my backyard. Maybe that’s why—being with him was an absolute safe zone. No judgment. No worrying about biting my tongue or having my thoughts and opinions twisted into hurtful gossip.

  And then his grandfather died—and a part of Erik did too. During our last conversation under the black walnut, he poured out raw emotion he said he’d never shared with anyone else. I thought that was a turning point for our friendship. Maybe we would become closer. Talk more. See each other outside of my yard.

  Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. The few times we crossed paths, in the summer, when school was out and I wasn’t out of state for an internship, our conversations were cordial, if they happened at all.

  We never sat together under that black walnut
again.

  “Well, you’re the one who made a big fuss today with Mama. Whether you like it or not, I just became your business again.”

  Erik shakes his head. “I’m here to work. I’m not after anything from you.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then let me get back to it.” He glances over his shoulder at his mower, like I’m keeping him. He never cared about that before. He’s got an entire crew that can cover the parts he doesn’t get to.

  “I can’t let it go that easily.”

  He takes a deep breath and swallows hard. “You need time to heal. To get your head right. What that guy did was fucked up. You shouldn’t allow that, Maddie.”

  “It was an accident.” It comes out in a whisper because we both know I’m lying. I curse myself. My whole plan for coming out here was to tell the truth. Erik is the only person I can do that with. He’s not part of my social network. He doesn’t have any ties to Trent.

  And I trust him.

  “Are you kidding me?” He reaches for me as if he wants to grab me in his arms and shake me, but he stops, dropping his arms to his sides in defeat before making contact. “Do you really think what he did was an accident?”

  I shrug; my gaze slipping to my toes, polished in pale pink glitter and softly sparkling in the sunlight.

  “Are you thinking about staying with him, Madeline?”

  The sounds of my full name coming out of his mouth makes my stomach roll. He’s the one who gave me the nickname Maddie. It caught on with my sisters and a few close friends. My parents hate it, and insist on calling me Madeline. My given name is beautiful, but I also love the intimacy of a nickname, so I don’t care either way. I like that the only people who use Maddie are those I truly care about. People who know there’s another side of me than flirty, flitty socialite.

  “It’s complicated, Erik.”

  “It’s really not. If someone gets so angry with you that he tries to kill you, I’d say that’s a damn good reason to break up.”