Page 14 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Madden

A hand taps me on the shoulder around ten o’clock, pulling my attention away from Archer to find one of the guys Theo’s been hanging out with waiting behind me.

“I think it’s time for this one to go home,” he says, motioning over his shoulder with a thumb before I can even get a word out.

My gaze shifts to follow, only to land on Theo.

He doesn’t look drunk, though his external appearance can hardly be used as an indicator for that kinda thing.

He’s also glowering at me like my presence is personally offending him, though that’s hardly a new occurrence.

I’ve been feeling his glare on me all night, but especially after the second time he stormed over since I arrived at the bar.

My attention moves back to the blond before asking, “How many has he had? ”

“I wasn’t exactly keeping track,” the guy mutters, and at least he has the sensibility to look sheepish about it. “It can’t have been more than a few, but I’m getting sick of watching him glaring at you all night.”

Join the Carnival cruise, ’cause I’m in the same fucking boat.

As if on cue, there’s a tingling on the back of my neck that has me turning my head, only to immediately find Theo’s eyes on me from across the room.

Unsurprisingly, he’s still shooting daggers my way, as always.

But while I’ve always thought it was out of contempt or resentment, part of me now feels like there’s something else going on too.

The reaction he had to me simply having a conversation with my cousin earlier tonight, the insinuation of me bringing him back to our hotel, none of it makes sense unless…

Is he jealous?

I shove it away, though, realizing his friend is still waiting for me to say something. The smart thing would be to just have him deal with Theo, but unfortunately, my mild savior complex takes the bait.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll take it from here. Just give me a few to close out,” I tell the guy before shifting my gaze back to him. “Thanks…”

“Cam,” he supplies, filling in the blanks.

“Madden.”

“Oh, I know. The infamous stepbrother in the flesh,” he muses before his gaze quickly flicks up and down my body. “Don’t give him too much shit, all right? You’ve already got him wound tighter than a banjo string.”

I don’t know what that means, only that it’s pushing me more toward the hypothesis of jealousy. Which feels like too absurd an idea to even entertain, yet here my brain is, fixating on the possibility that I’ve been reading this tension all wrong from the beginning.

Cam turns to leave, then pauses and glances back over his shoulder. “ You don’t happen to have AirTags, do you?”

I know my face has to be showing every bit of confusion currently running through my head when I slowly reply, “Um. No, I don’t.”

All Cam does is nod before returning to Theo, whose penetrating glare hasn’t left me the entire time his friend was over here. I quickly look away, my stomach roiling as my thoughts spiral back down the path I really don’t need to be entertaining.

I just wish the guy wasn’t so goddamn confusing.

“Looks like you’re on babysitting duty for the rest of the night,” Archer observes.

I roll my eyes and drop a few twenties on the counter—more than enough to cover his drinks and the sodas I’ve been nursing all night.

“Apparently.”

He chuckles. “Don’t sound so enthused.”

“Trust me. I’d rather take on your residency at Mass Gen.”

A sharp burst of laughter leaves him as he shakes his head. “I’d rather you take over proposing for me. That shit’s got me so fucking nervous, man.”

He’d mentioned thinking about popping the question to his girlfriend earlier this evening. But I’ve only met Hailey once, and while she’s pretty cool, I hardly think I’m qualified to fill in for something so important when I’ve never even been in love.

“As if I’d do any better job than you?” I ask slowly.

My lips pull into a grin as I slide off my stool, and he’s quick to do the same, but not without releasing a low groan when he realizes I’m right.

We say a quick goodbye; one with him insisting he’ll update me on the inevitable proposal, and I promise to try making it up for a Red Sox game this summer. And then he’s heading out, leaving me to deal with Theo.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself I can handle whatever Theo decides to throw at me for the rest of the evening, and head in his direction.

His gaze is already fixed on me—likely having never left—and I stop when I get within a few feet of him.

“You cashed out?” I ask.

He nods through his scowl before muttering, “Let’s go.”

I expected a fight when I walked over, so it’s a surprise when he just continues scowling some more before grabbing his coat from the back of his stool. Clearly, he wants to get out of here as much as me, because he even beats me out the door.

It’s chilly, the temperature dropping well below freezing at this point. I can barely tell, though, what with the flamethrower aimed at me in the form of Theo’s gaze.

“Are you ordering the Uber or am I?”

“I have the rental,” I tell him, holding up the keys for him to see.

“How?”

I blink at him a couple times. Because… really? Does it matter?

“I asked the valet at the resort to get it,” I reply sharply. “Kinda how a valet works, there, Theo.”

“But you don’t have the ticket.”

I roll my eyes before pulling the piece of paper he’s talking about from my jacket pocket. “Actually, I do. You left it on the desk in the room when you bolted this afternoon.”

The reminder is enough to shut him up and have him follow me to where the car is parked around the corner, though his glare aimed at me over the roof before he climbs into the passenger seat says plenty in itself.

He’s dead silent the entire drive back to the resort too, and honestly, I’m glad. Not much good can come of us trying—and failing—to communicate while he’s been drinking. Especially when I don’t have a gauge for how much he’s had.

I stand by him not being drunk since he’s walking fine and isn’t slurring his speech in the slightest. Even still, there’s a chance he’s buzzing with enough liquor to wanna pick a fight, and I’m not in the mood for that tonight.

Handing off the keys to the valet, I head toward the lobby doors. Theo’s a few steps in front of me, going in the same direction, when he loses his footing on a patch of ice.

Instinct has me grabbing him by the wrist and hauling him toward me. His chest collides with mine as I save him from falling flat on his back, and my other hand lands on his waist to steady him so we both don’t go down from the sudden movement.

We’re in each other’s face, only a few inches separating our noses from brushing. So close, I can see the tiny ripple design—almost wave-like—in his green eyes.

“You good?”

“It was ice, I’m not shit-faced,” he snaps in response.

After yanking himself free from my grip, he storms through the doors and into the lobby. I’m left there, staring after him for a second, before irritation sets in. Then, I’m hot on his heels, barreling in after him.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to just say thank you to someone trying to help you instead of bitching and fighting them at every turn,” I call out.

The statement has him halting in his tracks, spinning to face me in such a quick and fluid movement, I know he definitely can’t be that intoxicated.

Contempt rages in his eyes, and he hisses out, “Except I don’t need your help, let alone want it.”

I let out some mixture of a laugh and scoff while shaking my head. “Trust me, Theo. If there’s anything I know about you, it’s that you’d rather die than accept a goddamn thing from me.”

“Funny sentiment, considering you don’t know me at all,” he snarls.

This time, straight-up laughter leaves me. Because I should’ve predicted this. It’s a cycle with him at this point. Something is done or said that he doesn’t like—that requires him to look at himself a little too closely— and rather than taking accountability, he tries to bite back.

He did it at Thanksgiving, out on the slopes earlier this week, and apparently, right now too.

“And whose fault is that, Theo? Certainly not mine, and definitely not for lack of trying.”

“I’m trying my best—”

“Trying your best?” I admonish. “The only thing you’ve succeeded in is avoiding me at all costs, so if this week was you trying your best, I’d hate to see what not giving a fuck looks like.”

He tosses his arms out to his sides and growls, “It’s not like I have any practice with this shit.”

“And you think I do?” I snap, despite my every attempt to remain calm.

I can feel him slicing through my composure, little by little, with every word that leaves his goddamn mouth. It’s exhausting, trying to hold the pieces together.

“Well, you’re clearly a lot better at it than I am,” he hisses.

“Again, it’s called effort. ”

Not that you’ve ever fucking heard of it.

“But why , Madden?” He steps toward me, his eyes narrowed. “Why are you helping me home when I’ve been drinking or caring if I’m hurt or buying me breakfast or…any of it?”

Frustration flares within me, but I harness my control over my emotions. After all, it’s almost eleven, and I’d rather not start a full-blown screaming match in the resort lobby.

But, God, if that question doesn’t make me wanna blow a damn gasket on him right here and now.

“You’re seriously questioning me for being a good person?” I ask, slow and incredulous. “Because it’s really not hard to be a decent human being. If you put half as much energy into accepting how things are instead of making everyone around you just as miserable, maybe you’d realize that.”

I force my jaw to unclench and attempt to collect myself again, drawing in a long, deep breath. It works, for a moment. I slowly begin gathering all the threads of my sanity he’s been fraying and tugging at since the moment we became family.

But then he speaks, and it unravels all over again.

“I’m questioning you because it makes no sense! Unless you’re trying to get me to trust you. Part of some ploy to get intel for the Penny Play. Which I fucking don’t know where it is, in case you were wondering.”

What does the Penny Play have anything to do with this?

“Are you drunk or delusional? Because there’s no way you honestly believe everything in life revolves around some rivalry between our schools.”

After all, Timberwolf or Falcon, we’re both still people. Still deserving of respect and—

“What other reason could you possibly have? Hmm?” he rebuts, a laugh that’s borderline manic leaving him. “You say I don’t try, that I’m not putting in any effort. So why would you bother trying so fucking hard with someone who’s given you nothing in return?”

“Because of my mom, all right?” I shout, my final shred of composure snapping.

I don’t have it in me to care, though. He set the fuse, he lit the match. Now he can deal with the explosion to follow.

“You think I wanna do this? To sit here and try to make nice with you when you’ve done nothing to reciprocate?

Of course not. You’re proving it’s a fool’s errand at every turn.

But my mom loves your dad, and I love her.

I would do anything to make sure she’s happy.

Which I’m sure you, more than anyone, can understand.

” My chest heaves, and my gaze shifts between his eyes while I mutter, “You’re looking for my ulterior motive? There you fucking go.”

The stark sound of silence fills the air, swirling the toxic fumes creating a fog around us.

Theo takes a step back and blinks a couple times, almost like I slapped him or something. I wait for him to say something, finally take ownership or apologize or something, but all I get is nothing.

“You know what? Screw this,” I growl. “You’re so hell-bent on fighting me, hating my mom, and being pissed off at the world, that you’re not willing to look for any sort of silver lining. And I’m done trying with someone who clearly doesn’t give two shits about the effort I’m putting in.”

It might be the bite in my tone, my proximity as I get in his face, or something else entirely, but regardless, something snaps him out of his stupor. And once he comes back to reality, so does his fury.

“Fuck you, Madden. Fuck you. ”

With those parting words, he turns on his heel and storms away. In the opposite direction of the elevator banks that lead to our room.

“Where the hell are you going?” I call after him.

“Anywhere but here!”

I stare in the direction he went long after he disappears, debating and fighting with myself on whether or not I should go after him. But for once, I resist the urge to be the bigger person .

It’s not my fault he can’t handle me calling it like I see it, and there’s only so many times he can deflect reality before he’s caught off guard by the truth smacking him in the face.

And if I have to be the one to deliver the final blow? So fucking be it.