If You Leave - Page 18/50

Before I can add that my date is with my friend Brand, Madison gets up and turns her back on me in dismissal as she makes a pointed effort of asking Mila about a piece of art on the wall.

I sigh as I follow Pax to the door.

Sometimes being the cat isn’t as fun as it should be.

Chapter Nine

Madison

Oh my God. What. A. Fucking. Prick.

My thoughts form in time with my feet as they pound against the packed sand of the beach. I tossed and turned all night because of that egotistical asshole and here I am out running at seven a.m. This is so unlike me. I don’t go running. I don’t feel the need to burn off nervous or frustrated energy.

I don’t.

Yet here I am. Because I can’t get that cocky grin out of my head or the way he so casually told me that I was into him, then turned around and mentioned that he had a date. As if I care who he dates or who he fucks.

And he was so surprised that I walked him home. How the hell did he think he got home? Does he truly not remember it at all? Is that why he hasn’t mentioned it?

If that’s the case, what in the hell is wrong with him?

Did I hurt you?

What a strange thing to ask. His rushed explanation didn’t hold water because we hadn’t been talking about the taxi crash at all. We were talking about me being in his bedroom.

Did I hurt you?

Did I hurt you?

I can’t get his question, sudden and anxious, out of my head.

My feet fall hard, one after the other, as I slam them into the ground. The crisp spring air stings my throat as I suck it into my lungs, trying to breathe, but at the same time enjoying the discomfort. It distracts me from the pissed-off feelings coursing through me. I hate feeling affected like this. I hate that he affected me like this.

Because I do care who he dates. And who he fucks. I don’t know why; all I know is that I do.

Effffff.

The sun is beautiful at this time of day and regardless of my pissed-off state, I can’t help but appreciate it. The lake is calm this morning, tranquil and silent. There isn’t even a breeze to stir the grass on the dunes above me. It’s like God is giving me a break, letting me get my thoughts together.

The problem is, I can’t make sense of my thoughts. I can’t make sense of why I’m attracted to a guy who has an ego bigger than the state of Michigan and who clearly has two tons of personal baggage.

Everyone has baggage, though, my inner voice tells me. Even you.

Screw that. My baggage doesn’t come close to his. My parents died. End of story. Well, maybe I have a few trust issues because of their relationship. But who wouldn’t in my shoes? Well, maybe not Mila. But that’s just because she didn’t see as much as I did. I shielded her from it.

Seriously. It’s no wonder that I suck at relationships.

But my issues are nowhere near the level of Gabriel’s. I don’t know exactly what he’s dealing with, but it’s far worse than anything I’ve known. I can see it in his eyes. And of course there was that question. Did I hurt you?

My phone buzzes, interrupting my thoughts, and I reach into the pocket of my hoodie, stooping over to breathe as I read it.

I have a free morning. Want to get breakfast?

Ethan.

I feel a stab of guilt. I’ve ignored a few of his texts this week or just barely responded. I can’t keep ignoring them; it’s rude and he doesn’t deserve that. At the very least I should tell him in person that we can’t date. Or maybe I’m wrong about the whole thing. Maybe I should try going out with him one more time.

Sure. I’m jogging, let me change my clothes and take a quick shower, I answer. It takes him two seconds to reply.

Perfect. I’ll pick you up in 30.

I jog home and quickly shower and dress. Ethan picks me up in thirty minutes on the dot. He looks like a model in GQ magazine this morning, wearing khaki shorts, a button-up and a hundred-watt grin.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he greets me when I open the door. “I was thinking we could go to that little café on the beach in Oval Cove. Sound good?”

“That actually does,” I admit as I grab my purse. “I haven’t been there in forever.”

“I’ll have to stop and get gas first,” Ethan says as we walk to his car. “But then we’re outta here.”

I have to smile. Yes, he’s vanilla. He’s bland. He’s even boring. But I know him. And he knows me. There’s definitely comfort in familiarity.

And he’d never play dumbass games that would hurt me on purpose. I know that.

Maybe I shouldn’t dismiss him so quickly.

We chat as Ethan drives down the road to a gas station. Bland, yet safe conversation. How many babies have you delivered this week? Four? That’s incredible. I still can’t get over the fact that you’re a doctor. He laughs and I laugh and there is absolutely no chemistry.

But I’m not giving up yet.

Maybe we could be one of those couples who grow into love. And who cares about the chemistry? There are people out there in arranged marriages. They’ve got it way worse than this.

As Ethan pulls into the gas station, I’m distracted by wondering if arranged marriages are still actually a thing.

And then I’m distracted by my bladder, which is apparently as small as a peanut. Using a gas station bathroom is disgusting, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I find it surprisingly clean, though. Thank God. I still wag my butt above the toilet, refusing to touch the seat, just in case.

As I make my way back outside, I pause at the doors, staring through the glass.

Jared Markson is at the pump next to Ethan’s, filling up his work truck. Ugh. After the other night, he’s the last person I want to see.

I stare at the bulldog set of his jaw, at the way he almost seems dirty even before his workday has begun, and I shake my head. I can’t imagine what Jacey ever saw in that guy. He was a jerk even back in high school. Some things never change.

With a sigh I glance over at Ethan. Oblivious to Jared, he’s filling up his BMW, talking on his phone and glancing at his watch.

Some things definitely don’t change.

Ethan is perfunctory and efficient. Perfect for a doctor, but probably not the best qualities in bed.

I remember Gabriel slipping his fingers into me and then licking them. Holy shit. My cheeks ignite. Where did that come from?

I shake the thoughts from my head and push open the door, walking toward Ethan’s car, but of course Jared catches sight of me and turns. His top lip is split and scabbed over, but that doesn’t stop it from spreading into a leer and exposing chew-stained teeth, one of which is missing.

Gross.

“Madison,” he calls. “You can tell your slut of a friend to stop lying about me.”

What the hell? I can’t imagine what he’s talking about but I would rather die than ask. I continue walking, trying to ignore him.

“Mad-dddyyy,” he calls mockingly.

He steps around the concrete island and approaches me. Ethan looks up now, distracted from his phone call by Jared’s loud voice. Surprisingly, though, he stays put, leaning against his car and watching curiously rather than hanging up his phone.

Geez. Thanks for the backup, Ethan.

With a sigh I turn to Jared.

“What?” I demand. “I’m not in the mood for you, Jared.”

“I said, tell your slut of a friend to stop lying about me.” Jared enunciates every word slowly and loudly, as if I’m dumb. I glare at him as I start walking again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care.”

Jared’s hiss halts my steps. “Jacey was right about you, you know. You’re a spoiled bitch. You have no idea what the real world is like. You’ve had everything handed to you your whole life.”

I freeze, anger flooding through me until my vision almost blurs at the corners of my eyes.

“Jacey would never say that,” I snap. “Because she knows better.”

Jared skirts around me and gets in my face, invading my personal space like an annoying ankle-biting dog. “But she did. And she was right.”

“You know better than that,” I tell him icily, knowing full well that he’s lying just to get under my skin. “Do you consider having my parents killed in a head-on crash with an eighteen-wheeler ‘having everything handed to me’? Or did I have something handed to me when I had to come home from New York and live my life next to worthless fucks like you?”

“No one is making you stay here,” Jared snarls. “And in fact, I’d like it better if you left. But before you go, tell your slut friend to lay off the bullshit. If I wanted to fuck with her, I would. Until then, I would appreciate it if she didn’t lie.”

“I’m not your messenger,” I snap. “And neither of us are interested in anything you have to say.”

He grabs my arm and I whirl around.

“Get your fucking hand off of me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ethan take one step and then stop. He’s not on his phone anymore, but he still doesn’t come to help. Jared grins at me, close enough that I can smell his rancid morning breath.

“Are you going to make me, princess?”

I open my mouth to answer, but someone else answers first, a husky and familiar voice.

“No, but I’d be happy to.”

Without even turning around, I recognize that deep voice, the rich timbre, the steady tone.

Gabriel.

Unconsciously my body relaxes ever so slightly in relief, as though I’ve been waiting for him to arrive and didn’t even know it.

I exhale slowly, turning to find Gabriel standing on the pavement with two breakfast burritos in his hand. His other hand is flexing as it dangles by his thigh. He’s staring at Jared with unflinching precision.

His gaze is undeniably lethal.

It’s frightening in its intensity.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jared mutters under his breath. Looking up at Gabriel, he says, “There’s no problem here, man. I was just explaining that to Madison.”

“No, you weren’t,” I answer firmly, stepping out of his grasp. “You wanted me to take Jacey a message.”

“And that is?” Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

Jared doesn’t answer, so I do.

“He wanted me to tell her to stop lying. And he called her a slut.”

I couldn’t help but add that last part on. Jared so deserves it and he’s so obviously scared of Gabriel.

Gabriel calmly sets his breakfast down on the roof of his car and approaches us. His gaze hasn’t moved from Jared. It’s like watching a lion and its prey. It’s fascinating to witness.

I step back.

Gabriel steps forward.

Jared turns around.

“Fuck this,” he mutters. “That bitch isn’t worth it.”

He bolts for his truck and peels out from the parking lot.

Gabriel stands still, watching him go. Then he turns to me.

“Are you all right?” he asks quietly, his dark eyes flitting over me, checking for damage. I nod, noticing the way Gabriel is dressed in workout clothes, the way his T-shirt clings to his broad chest, the fabric skimming over his chiseled abs. I swallow.