Looking up at Madoc, I actually gulped through my smile. “I love you,” I said in a shaky voice.
He winked in his oh-so-sexy way, telling me he’d take that as a thank-you.
“I’ll use this one,” Lucas called out, grabbing the never-been-used board.
“Oh, no.” I snatched it from him. “This one’s for you.” I held out the ratty, torn-up one with the traction nearly worn away.
He stuck out his top lip, taking the board from me.
“You have to graduate,” I explained. “Got it?”
He nodded and took the board while I grabbed the new one. Madoc slammed the trunk shut without taking one. I looked at him, raising my eyebrows.
“I’m not skating,” he mumbled. “I like to watch.”
I gripped the board at my side, grumbling, “Great.”
“Lucas,” Madoc called, and we both turned around. “Put these on.”
Madoc tossed him a mesh bag with pads and a helmet, and I tried to contain my smile. Lucas pinched his eyebrows together like he was way too cool for protective gear, but I was impressed.
Madoc was good at this big brother thing.
Was he like this years ago? Or had he grown up after I’d left? I searched my memory, remembering times he’d drink my Snapples to piss me off, but then always come and watch TV with me, making me feel less alone.
And all of the times he ignored me at school, but then send me candy-grams and balloons so I wasn’t left out when everyone else got classroom deliveries on holidays. He’d jot down some profanity or a gross poem, of course, but it still felt good to receive something.
Addie was right. Madoc picked up the pieces.
“Lucas.” I set my board down on the sidewalk and ruffled his blond hair. “Have you ever skated before?”
“Not yet. But I want to do that!” He pointed down into the bowl as we stood near the edge. He already had his helmet and elbow pads on.
“You can get in there today,” I assured him, taking his board and setting it down next to mine. “But it’ll take a lot of practice before you’re ready to go fast. Let me show you the first steps. Do you know which one is your front foot?”
The blood flowing through my arms felt hot, and my heart was pounding. Damn, I was glad Lucas was here. Madoc sat down, arms spread out and slung over the back of the bench as he watched us. Or me.
At least having Lucas here meant I wasn’t the center of attention. Madoc should’ve just told me to come out here on my own. Get my feet wet again without an audience.
But he knew me. He knew I wasn’t going to do anything without being pushed.
“Front foot?” Lucas looked confused as he lifted one foot and then set it down to lift the other, unsure.
I smiled, touching his arm to get his attention. “Okay, go and walk up those stairs over there.” I pointed up the sidewalk.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” I ordered with more authority but keeping my voice soft.
Lucas left his board on the ground and swung his arms back and forth as he walked up the path.
As soon as he raised a foot on the first step, I yelled. “Stop!”
He halted, keeping his left foot raised and wobbling as he looked back at me.
“That’s your front foot,” I told him. “Come back.”
Madoc had gone back over to his car and left the doors open so we could hear music. Method Man’s “All I Need” vibrated out, and my face tingled with amusement seeing Lucas bob his head like the teenage boy he wasn’t. This song was older than Madoc and me, for crying out loud.
“Okay.” I bent down and pointed to his feet. “Your front foot goes toward the top of the board, and your back one goes on the tail.”
He did as he was told, and I watched as he climbed on, testing the give in the board by leaning left and right. My feet started humming for the feel of my own board.
I took a deep breath. “Now, when you’re moving, turn your front foot forward and push off with your tail foot. When you put both feet back on, turn them sideways like this again.”
He wasted no time. Before I’d even straightened back up, he was gone. He’d turned his front foot forward, at least as far as I could tell, since his black pants were so long his shoes were nearly covered. At least he looked like a skater.
Pushing off with his tail foot, he touched ground time and again, pushing faster and faster, increasing his speed.
His arms flailed, and I tensed.
“Whoa,” he yelped, and I watched as he stumbled off his board and into the grass.
I let out the breath I was holding and looked back to Madoc.
He shrugged and shook his head. “He’s going to fall, Fallon. Relax.”
Madoc’s outstretched arms were taut, and my eyes lingered way too long on the dips and curves of his biceps and triceps in his short-sleeved, heather gray T-shirt. The wide, toned expanse of his chest, I remembered, felt lean and rigid under my fingertips. Madoc was hard and soft in all of the right places, and my mouth actually watered at the thought of massaging him, so I could smooth my fingers along every inch of his skin.
With oil. Lots and lots of oil.
“Fallon.”
I blinked, snapping my eyes back up to Madoc’s face.
“Wipe the drool, baby,” he commanded. “We’re getting under the sheets later. Don’t worry.”
My sex clenched, lightning shot from my belly down to my legs, and I looked away, running my hands over my face.
And then he was laughing.
Stupid ass**le jerk.
Shaking him out of my head—violently—I walked up the path to where Lucas was making his way back.
“You know what? You stayed on the board a lot longer than I did the first time.” I put my arm around his shoulder. “And you did what you were supposed to do. When in danger, jump off.”
“Don’t be such a wuss,” Madoc called out. “Show him how it’s done.”
I scowled at him through hooded lids and looked down to my board, curling my toes.
“What are you? Scared?” Lucas looked up at me, the honest question plain all over his face.
How could I encourage him to do something I wouldn’t do? What kind of parent would I make?
Twisting my lips side to side and already feeling the sweat on my neck, I stepped onto the board, straightening my legs against the shake in my muscles. Leaning slowly back on my heels and then forward on the balls of my feet, I breathed shallowly as I swayed front and back, bending the board and remembering the feel of how to maneuver and guide myself.
People often think skateboarding is just about feet, but the truth is, it’s a whole-body workout. Every muscle comes into play. You lean with your shoulders, steer with your heels and add or subtract pressure depending on how you want to jump, flip, or glide.
Turning my Van-clad foot forward, I kicked off with my other and bent my knees slightly, clenching my fists against the sudden rush in my chest.
Shit.
My eyes went wide, and I let out a laugh before covering my mouth.
Oh, my God. I hope they didn’t hear that. I just got an adrenaline rush from kicking off?
Touching ground again, I kicked and kicked, my heart jumping in my chest as I tacked to the left, avoiding the stairs. Staying on the sidewalk, I continued kicking off and gliding on the sidewalk around the bowl, fireworks going off in my belly and brain.
Fucking amazing. This is what it felt like.
How did I ever give this up?
Digging into the ground, I pushed off hard and charged ahead straight for Lucas. Spreading out my arms, I dropped my back leg, bringing the front of the board up off the ground and skidding to a halt, circling Lucas until I stopped.
I squeezed every muscle in my body, wishing I could pinch up my face in a shitty-ass grin and jump up and down.
But that would be uncool.
Hopping off the board, my breaths fast and sharp against the afternoon cold, I got into Lucas’s wide-eyed face.
“Do I look scared to you?” I teased.
His mouth was hanging open. “I want to learn that.”
I stomped down on the tail of my board and caught the front end in my grasp. “Heel-draggers are way off. Let’s do some tic-tacking.”
Over the next couple of hours, Lucas and I exhausted ourselves with steering, bailing, ollies, and just plain practice. I showed him how to use his body, and how to fall with a smile. Because falling happens. A lot.
I promised him that we’d work on kick-flips next time, and then he spent some time practicing in the bowls while Madoc and I sat on the ledge to watch.
Laying my head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes and, for once, didn’t want to be anywhere else.
• • •
“Thank you,” I said in a raspy voice. “For today, I mean. I needed that.” I think I had laughed, shouted, and cheered more in the last few hours than in the last couple of years put together. Even though I’d be feeling the pain tomorrow, I was light-headed with happiness. Madoc’s smell enveloped me in the car on the ride home, I’d be cuddled next to him tonight, and every muscle felt loose from the release of stress.
He reached over and kneaded my thigh as he steered through the streets of town. We’d just dropped off Lucas in time for dinner and were heading home.
I sat back in my seat, my sleepy head lying sideways and looking up at him. “Don’t be freaked out by this question,” I started, “but did you have any relationships in high school? Like girlfriends?”
He snorted and flipped on the windshield wipers. “Women always have to ask questions they really don’t want the answers to.”
“But I do.” My voice stayed light. I actually did want to know. We’d missed years, and I wanted to know everything about him.
“Yes,” he admitted, nodding his head and not meeting my eyes. “A few.”
Jealousy spread through my brain like a disease. Who were they? What did they look like? What did he do with them? What were their names, Social Security numbers, and addresses?
It’s crazy how thoughts and suspicions can splinter your peace of mind.
“And?” I urged softly.
“And I never told anyone I loved them,” he shot back. “Only you.”
Then he turned to me, shutting me up with his serious, straight face.
The pulse in my neck throbbed, and it took a moment to realize my mouth was hanging open.
He tipped his chin at me. “So what does the Valknut tattoo mean?”
I inhaled an impatient breath and turned to look out the window. “Way to beat a dead horse,” I half-joked.
“You’re evading.”
Yeah, I am. But what the hell could I do? How do you tell someone who you want a future with that you got rid of his child without his knowledge? Madoc would care. I just couldn’t tell him exactly what the tattoo means. Not yet.
Why wasn’t he asking about my Out of Order tattoo or the script down the side of my back?
I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the rain on my window. “The tattoo means a lot of things to different people. For me it’s about rebirth.” That was partly true. “It’s about moving on. Surviving.” And then I turned to him and shrugged. “It looked cool, okay?”
There. Hopefully that’d be the end of it. For now, anyway.
I’d tell him everything. Eventually. As soon as I could. For now, I just needed tonight with him.
And that’s when I remembered one of the skills of a good talker.
Distract him with a change of subject.
Clearing my throat, I spoke up. “You never ask about the script on my back.” And I watched his eyes dart down to my hands as I lifted my shirt up and over my head.
Madoc’s round eyes were glued to my nearly na**d chest clad only in a hot-pink, lacy bra.
“Eyes on the road,” I reminded him in my sultriest voice.
He blinked and glanced back out the windshield. “Fallon, I’m driving. This is not cool.”
