Page 27 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Madden

“Too embarrassed to be seen on campus with me, huh?” I tease the second Theo climbs in my passenger seat the following afternoon. “Had to make me park down the street?”

There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes when he reaches for the door handle. “I can get out right now if you’re—”

The sound of the lock clicking into place has him pausing, and he immediately starts laughing. It might be the first time I’ve heard it in its purest form; the rich sound filling my car like a melody that makes my stomach swirl.

“Smooth,” he muses. “I wasn’t expecting to be kidnapped today.”

“You’re the one who asked me to hang out, ” I remind him before pulling away from the curb in the direction of our destination. “I hardly think kidnapping applies in that case. ”

“You just locked me in your vehicle and are now taking me to an undisclosed location. Still seems a little like kidnapping to me.”

I chuckle and shake my head, keeping my attention on the road while we continue discussing whether or not this really fits the definition of kidnapping. Newsflash: it doesn’t, but if it keeps the conversation light and easy, I’m all for letting him argue in circles.

Part of me was expecting this drive to be stiff and awkward like our travel day to Vermont—and that the chemistry we felt the other night was only reserved for the bedroom—but I quickly realize how wrong those preconceived notions were.

It’s amazing what happens when effort is reciprocated.

I’m in the middle of my rebuttal, which is squarely focused on not being able to kidnap the willing, when I feel Theo stiffen beside me.

At first, I think it’s because of something I said; a thought that disappears as soon as I shift my attention his way, finding him staring at a notification on his phone screen.

And while I don’t typically make a habit of reading other people’s texts, it doesn’t take more than a quick glance at the contact name to realize the issue.

Dad.

“Sorry,” Theo whispers, the word coming out gruff. Clearing his throat, he drops his phone to his lap and mutters, “He fucking ruins everything sometimes.”

I’m not sure what was said, and I don’t have any intention of asking, but from the way his mood shifted on a dime, it can’t be anything good.

“Fathers are…” I trail off, not really sure what word I’m searching for. Mostly because, until Adam, I haven’t had a father figure in a decade.

“Impossible?” Theo supplies dryly, his head slumping back against the seat .

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, not sure if it’s my place to give him advice on this kinda thing. We might’ve been vibing pretty well earlier, but we’re still on shaky ground—barely even friends—and the last thing I wanna do is rock the boat with him.

“Say whatever it is you’re thinking,” he murmurs, cutting into my thoughts. “I know you have an opinion.”

When I glance in his direction, I find him already staring at me. His brow arches, waiting for me to say my piece, but I opt for something more light-hearted instead.

“Oh, so now you’re the mind reader?”

There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes, pulling us both back to the hot tub, before he replies, “And you’re the one deflecting.”

There’s a beat where the two of us just look at each other, lingering in this moment as much as we are the one on that cold, snowy night. But the main difference between then and now? Not an ounce of contempt or anger swirls in his eyes.

All I see staring back at me is desire and a hint of sadness, though I know the latter has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the conversation at hand.

“It’s not my place to tell you how to feel about your dad,” I start softly, my attention shifting between the road and him and back again. “But I do know he really loves you. He cares that you’re hurting right now, even if he doesn’t show it in the best way.”

Theo scoffs and shakes his head. “He doesn’t show it in any way, Madden.”

I nod, realizing it’s all I really can do right now. Because, as much as I’d love to lay out proof for him, it still wouldn’t make him ready to believe or accept it as the truth. That’s a bridge he needs to cross on his own.

“I’m just so angry with him,” he finally says, voice tinted with defeat. “For doing what he did, yeah, but also for showing me he’s not the man I thought he was. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, seeing his flaws.”

It’s a little bit of a gut-punch, hearing those words from him. I know far more about flawed parents—fathers specifically—than I care to admit. But it’s also how I know Theo isn’t doing a damn thing to process his emotions about all of it either.

“Have you had an actual conversation with him about how you’re feeling?” I hedge.

“What use would it be? He made his choice; it’s not like I can change his mind about it or make everything go back to the way it was.” I catch his grimace as I glance at him again and find his expression turning guilty. “Sorry. I know this is…weird.”

Shaking my head, I reach over and rest my hand on his arm. “Don’t be. Seriously. You’re…grieving, you know? I can’t imagine being in your shoes right now.”

It’s no excuse for the way he treated Mom and me, but I still feel bad for him. Our circumstances were entirely different when our parents got married.

I didn’t have to watch my family fall apart in front of my eyes, and I certainly wasn’t expected to just accept an entire new family as a consolation prize for the one I’d just lost. But Theo did.

It’s a lot for anyone to accept, and though he might not be dealing with it in the best way, his feelings and the resentment he has for those responsible are still valid.

Part of me wonders if that’s part of the reason I was on the receiving end of his ire. Because he thought I somehow knew or was involved too, and that’s why he was constantly questioning my intentions over break.

My fingers rub along the fabric of his long-sleeve subconsciously, the motion soothing me more than it probably is him as we get lost in thought for a few minutes. Thankfully, it’s all we need before pulling into the parking lot of our destination.

Neither of us make a move to get out of the vehicle after I kill the engine, and while I don’t want to dampen the mood, I have to get my thoughts off my chest.

“I hope you know I don’t love how they chose to go about all of this either.

I was already up at Blackmore, so I had no idea Adam was married when he and Mom started seeing each other.

And I won’t make excuses for them either, because it was shitty,” I admit, feeling nothing but truth in the statement.

“But I meant it when I told you there was no motivation behind anything I did in Vermont besides her. She’s done everything she can to set me up for success, and she did it all on her own for most of my life.

I can hate what they did but still love her and want her to be happy. ”

“For the record, I never thought you knew what was happening with them,” he murmurs while shaking his head. “I didn’t love the way you swallowed the happy family pill so easily after it all came out, but I understand why you did. It just…feels like a betrayal to my mom if I did too.”

He pauses and fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt before whispering, “I can’t even really blame your mom either. She wasn’t the one who was married, you know?”

“Still doesn’t make it right to get involved with someone who was.”

“True, but it also makes it harder to hate her.” His gaze lifts to mine, and the corner of his lips shift into the smallest smile before he adds, “Especially when she makes a killer apple pie.”

“Just wait until you try her peach cobbler.”

He chuckles a little, breaking the intensity of the moment, and shakes his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, in that case,” I start with a wry smirk. “Maybe think about letting go of those feelings you’re keeping pent up inside too. It’s not healthy, you know? It might not change anything in the long run, but holding on to it only hurts you more.”

He releases a long, low groan, his body sinking a little deeper in the passenger seat while he scrubs his palm over his face.

“Ugh, I know you’re right. Which is fucking annoying, by the way.”

His head rolls to the side, and I find a playful glint in his eyes mixing with the dejection and frustration. And that…I can work with.

“Well, lucky for you, I picked the perfect outing to help you let off some steam.”

Turning his head again, his attention moves out the windshield to the building I parked in front of a few minutes ago. He squints a little, reading the sign above the door before his eyebrows nearly shoot into his hairline.

“Batting cages?”

I nod, already pushing open my car door to grab my gear from the trunk. Theo follows suit, climbing out once I have my bag, and together, we head toward the building.

He lets out a little laugh once we’re inside, shaking his head when he sees the rows of cages at our disposal—every single one of them empty.

They’re not as nice as the ones we have at the training facilities, of course, but they serve their purpose nonetheless.

Not that Theo seems to mind. From the way his mood has shifted, I may as well have brought a kid into a candy store.

“I can’t believe they still have these things. For the public, I mean.”

“For now. I may be the only person keeping this place in business.” I drop my bag on the bench outside the cage I typically use. “I come here whenever I need to blow off steam.”

Which, incidentally, has been a lot lately. Every other day, if not more often, especially in the time before Theo showed up on my doorstep .

“Because you can’t just do that at the training facility?”

“It’s different,” I say with a shrug. “There’s no one here watching. I’m not worried about having perfect form, placing the ball, whatever else Coach wants us to focus on. It’s just me, the bat, the ball, and releasing the built up tension.”