TYLER (Blake Security Book 2) (4 page)

              “I don’t want any more coffee!”

              I turned and looked at him and said, “Too damned bad.”

*****

              I was fifteen minutes late to pick up Ariana. I’d called her before I left home and her mother hung up on me twice. Suffice to say, she’d broken the news to them about dating me. Finally, the third time I called, Brandon picked up the phone. “Hey Bro, sorry about that. Just ask for me from now on.”

              I wondered if Brandon knew how often his mother hung up on me when I did ask for him. I let it go and said, “Will you tell Ariana I’m on the way and I’m sorry for being late? I had some family stuff.”

              “Yeah, I’ll do you one better. I’ll drive her down to the end of the driveway so you don’t have to deal with the glares of the parental units.”

              I laughed. “Thanks. The steaming holes they bored through me the last two times I saw them haven’t healed yet. What are you doing tonight?”

              “Sam and I are doing some night fishing. If you two lovebirds finish with your dinner early enough, you should come out. We’ll be at the basin.”

              “Sounds romantic.”

              “Screw you. Get a girlfriend and all of a sudden…”

              I laughed again. “I’ll be right there.”

              “Wait, you said you had “family stuff.” Is your mom okay?”

              “Yeah, she’s doing great. I can’t say the same about the old man.”

              “Oh.” Brandon knew what an ass my dad could be. There wasn’t much that went on with me that Brandon didn’t know. He was also smart enough to figure out when I needed to talk about it I would, otherwise he left it alone.

              I was at the end of the Douglases’ long driveway ten minutes later. I stepped out of the Challenger and watched as Ariana climbed out of her brother’s pick-up. She was wearing a denim skirt that came down to just above her knees and a red eyelet blouse that buttoned up the front. Her long hair lay in thick masses across her shoulders and down her back, and her gorgeous green eyes were sparkling. My breath caught in my throat every time I looked at her, but this time there were things going on all throughout my body. Puberty was rough. I kissed her cheek and breathed her in and then waved at Brandon.

Brandon stuck his head out the window and said, “You kids be good.”

              I grinned. “Always.” The look on Brandon’s face before he drove away told me that the intimate details of my relationship with Ariana were where he wanted to draw the line at knowing everything. I slid in behind the wheel and looked over at my gorgeous date. “You look amazing.”

              She smiled and said, “So do you, as always.”

ARIANA

              My belly was trembling violently as Tyler drove us away from my house. We’d been officially “dating” for about four weeks, but the thrill of being with him never got old. As a matter of fact, it only got more thrilling.

              “I made reservations at GW Fins. Is that okay?”

              “Mm, that sounds yummy. How’s your mom?”

              “She’s unbelievable. She started her chemo last week, and she still goes to work for ten or twelve hours every day. She still takes her walk every night, and she still organizes all those charity things on the weekends, not to mention that she force feeds me a homemade breakfast every Sunday morning.”

              I laughed. “No offense, but I’ve seen you eat. I doubt there is too much force involved.”

              Tyler grinned. “You have a point there.”

              “Brandon said you had some ‘issues’ earlier. Is everything okay with your dad?”

              Tyler rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what to say about him…or do for that matter. The only thing about him I ever respected was his work ethic, and he’s losing that now too.”

              “He’s going through an awful lot.”

              Tyler looked over at me and smiled sadly. “That’s what my mother says. You two should be related.” I felt my face flush. I’d dreamed more than once over the years about being related to Tyler’s mom…and not by blood. I’d had a crush on him when I was a little girl, and now it had turned into something so fierce that I didn’t even know how to describe it any longer. Last week I’d finally confessed to my mother that Tyler and I were seeing each other. That hadn’t been a pretty conversation. It had ended with both of us in tears. I’d asked my mother what her problem was with the Petits. She hadn’t been able to give me a straight answer, but she’d told me that Tyler was cocky and arrogant and she’d started to go on with more but I had stopped her by saying,
“He’s not any of those things. He’s sweet and compassionate, and he’s going through so much right now and holding up like a champ. I have so much respect for him, Mom, and he treats me with respect too. I’m sorry that you don’t approve, but I’m not going to stop seeing him. You can forbid me and ground me...but you can’t keep me a prisoner. I’ll find a way, and in the meantime, our relationship will be the one to suffer. I don’t want that and I hope you don’t either.”
I’d left my mother crying, but since then, neither her or my dad had said anything to me about him. Brandon told me today that they hang up on him when he calls. Tyler had never told me that. I wished my parents could try being that mature.

******

              Tyler opened the door to the restaurant and held it for me as I stepped inside. He placed his hand gently on the small of my back, and that simple touch caused my heart rate to accelerate and my breath to catch in my throat. I loved how polite and respectful he was, too. He’d been raised in a home with every advantage possible, yet he was one of the most down-to-earth people that I’d ever met. Inside, the restaurant was beautiful. The walls were decorated with multi-colored 3-D sea creatures made out of aluminum and set against a blue wall made to look like an ocean.

The hostess greeted us and led us to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. The waiter took our drink orders and left menus, and when he was gone, Tyler turned his eyes on me. I loved the way his eyes looked in the candlelight from the table, and it took me several seconds to realize that I was staring at him like a mute idiot. I saw his lips quirk, and he knew he noticed it, too.

“This is really nice,” I said.

“Yeah, I like it back here. It’s as if we’re the only ones in the place. You’re so pretty.”

I felt myself blush again. I loved that he thought I was pretty. I thought that I’d never seen anything that looked as good as he did. “Thank you,” I said. “So I heard my brother invite you to go fishing later…”

He laughed. “Another time,” he said, reaching across the table and taking my hand. “Tonight is about you and me.” Every time he touched me it was like the first time, and I found myself wondering if this was how a person knew they were in love. I wished that I could ask my mom. We’d always been really close…but the one subject that was off limits where Mom was concerned was anything to do with the Petits.

The waiter came and took our orders, and after he left, Tyler said, “My mom keeps asking me to invite you over for dinner. I was thinking maybe Sunday after church if you have time.”

“I’d like that.” I genuinely liked Tyler’s mom. She always went out of her way to say hello to me and ask how I was doing, and it always felt sincere.

We talked about everything while we ate, and I marveled not for the first time at how easy he was to talk to and how we were able to talk about everything that was going on in our lives. I had only dated two boys before him, but in comparison, Tyler was worlds apart.

              After dinner, we went for a walk in the moonlight. “I love this time of year,” I told him as we walked through the French Quarter. Tyler put his arm around me and I shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

I smiled. “No, not at all.” He smiled back, knowingly. I looked up at that stars then and made a wish that things between us would never change. I had quickly outgrown the other boys I’d dated. Tyler was a year older than I was, and he would graduate and go away to college while I was still in high school. I tried not to let myself worry about silly things that hadn’t happened yet…but I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted Tyler Petit in my life…forever.

              We were a few blocks from the restaurant when Tyler stopped walking and pulled me into his arms. I had to tip my head back to look up into his eyes. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils and everything inside of me seemed to turn into hot liquid. I had never considered having sex with any of the boys I’d dated before…but with Tyler, I thought about it a lot. I could feel the heat emanating off of his body, and I wanted nothing more than to burrow myself into his hard chest. He rested one of his big hands on the side of my face and dragged his thumb across my bottom lip. He exuded masculinity and sex, and I knew that if he asked me, I would willingly and happily give my virginity to him.

He let his hand slide around and cup the back of my neck, and I closed my eyes as his lips descended down on mine. My heart was pounding in my chest and my legs felt weak as he brushed his full soft lips against mine. Fireworks exploded in my head when he did that, and I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself in closer. Our sweet kiss turned into a hungry, needful thing with a mind of its own as our tongues twisted up and we explored each other’s mouths.

Flames of passion burned hot in my chest and intensified as I felt Tyler’s hands moving up my sides underneath my blouse. I didn’t stop him. I had no desire to. His hands were warm and his grip was possessive and sexy—and I loved it. His tongue continued to stab in and out between my lips as his hands explored my body.

When he pulled his mouth back, I opened my eyes. There was a look of raw desire on his face, and I thought that I had never seen anything so sexy. “I’ve dreamed about touching you,” he whispered. I let out a little whimper as he said, “I wondered what you would taste like and how you would feel…the reality is so much better than what I imagined.”

His breaths were coming in short gasps, and I could feel how badly he wanted me. I reached up for his face and pulled his lips back down to mine. This time—while we kissed—I let my hands explore his body, running them up underneath his shirt and feeling his hot, hard flesh. I ran them down his arms and felt the muscles in his biceps. He kept kissing me as I touched him, and this time, when we came up for air he said, “God, Ariana…we better stop.”

Feeling braver suddenly than I ever had, I said, “Why? I don’t want to stop.”

I saw Tyler look around us. We were standing near a park on the edge of the river. There were streets on all sides of the park and not twelve feet away a homeless man sat on a bench. He kissed me on my lips again and said, “Not tonight…not like this. Our first time together is going to be special.” He kissed me one more time before taking my hand and leading me toward the path that would take us back to the car. I was slightly disappointed, but I also appreciated the fact that he was being so considerate of me. I knew that I was lucky to have him in my life—and I knew that the best was yet to come.

TYLER

              “Ariana?” I watched as she picked at her lunch and stared off into space. Something was definitely bothering her. “Baby?”

She looked at me as if I hadn’t just said her name six times. “Huh?”

I smiled. “Are you okay?” We’d been dating for a few months. It was almost Thanksgiving, and Mom had asked Ariana to spend part of the day with us. I knew she was going to bring it up to her mother the night before, but she hadn’t mentioned it. I wondered if that was what was bothering her now.

She smiled at me, but I could tell it was forced. “I’m good,” she said, poking at the salad in front of her again. Ariana had a cheerleading meeting that Saturday morning. Football was over, but she was cheering for the basketball team now. I was never a fan of basketball before, but I went to every game now, just to watch her cheer. I loved to watch her dance and move…if I was being honest, I’d have to admit that I loved to watch her do anything. Today, I’d picked her up after the meeting and taken her to lunch. “Did something happen at the meeting that upset you?”

“No,” she put down the fork and looked at me. She looked miserable and I hated it.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?”

“No! Oh no, Tyler, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry. It’s my parents.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah. I asked my mother what we were doing for Thanksgiving. She said we were having dinner at the club. I was appalled. When Brandon and I were little they made holidays so special. Now that we’re older it’s almost like they’re no big deal.”

“Why the club?”

She rolled her eyes. “Some politician is in town from D.C. He invited them because they made a big contribution to his campaign. It’s all for show…as usual.”

I nodded. I understood the whole “keeping up” thing. My own parents had been guilty of it for years, too. Each time one of the neighbors remodeled, they did. The neighbors got a pool, we got a bigger one. The one good thing that came out of Mom’s illness was it had made her realize there were a lot more important things than money. More and more my dad didn’t seem to find anything important if it wasn’t seventy-proof. “Did you ask her about eating with us? Mom hasn’t been feeling well enough to cook, but Sharon makes a mean turkey.” Sharon was our housekeeper and cook. Mom has always done her own holiday dinners…but this year she was smack dab in the middle of her chemo, and she just didn’t have the energy for it.

Ariana nodded. “I asked her. That’s really what has me so upset. She got all dramatic about it and told me I was choosing your family over ours. She tried to drag Brandon into it, and she wanted him to tell me I was ruining this holiday by choosing not to go to the club.”

I already knew the answer just because I knew my friend so well, but I asked anyways, “So what did Brandon say?”

Ariana smiled. “He asked me, in front of my mother, if I could finagle him an invite too.”

I laughed. “He knows he doesn’t need an invitation. Sometimes I think Mom likes him more than me.”

“Your mother doesn’t like anyone more than you,” Ariana said with a smile. She’s been helping Mom and me over the past couple of months. When Mom has a treatment and we aren’t in school, we take her to the clinic and sit with her for the four hours it takes. We play board games with her or watch movies…Mom and Ariana had gotten close. When Mom’s hair started falling out, Ariana bought her a wig and even threatened to shave her own head. Mom had laughed and then suddenly sobered and said,
“You better be kidding! I won’t be responsible for all that gorgeous hair being lost.”

“You run a close second to me,” he said. “And then Brandon and then my dad.”

“Has your dad been home this week?”

I shrugged. “He’s been there as much as he ever is lately, but he’s worthless to my mother. Sometimes when Mom is sick at night from the chemo and I go in to help her up to the bathroom, he’s laying right next to her, but he’s passed out from being stinking drunk and he doesn’t even hear her calling out for help. I locked her meds up, too.”

“Why?” Ariana asked, alarmed. “Was there a problem with the nurses?” Mom had hired two nurses that rotated shifts when I was at school or wanted to go out. We’d also brought in a hospital bed and shower chair and other equipment to keep her comfortable. She had a port in her chest where they gave her all of her injectable medications. I was her primary caregiver when the nurses weren’t there in the evenings and on the weekends. I’d learned a lot about cancer and medications…a lot more than I ever wanted to know.

“No, the nurses are great. It’s my father. She asked him to give her a pain pill the other night when the nurse left early and it was a couple hours before I came home. I got there and found her in excruciating pain. Her head hurt so badly she said she couldn’t even see straight. That was strange because the pills usually at least take the edge off.  I’d just picked up her prescriptions that morning and the old pain pills had one left. When I opened the cabinet, there was still one pill in that bottle so I counted the new bottle. Those hadn’t been touched either. There was a bottle of Ibuprofen in there, too. That one was missing a pill. When I confronted him, he said that he hated how the morphine makes her “out of it.” We got into a fight about her being “out of it” versus being in pain to the point of not being able to tolerate it any longer. He had probably already drunk half a liter of bourbon. I don’t think he processed any of it. I don’t want him giving her meds to her while he’s drunk. Who knows what he might hand her?”

I didn’t tell Ariana that it nearly turned into a fistfight. Something about Mom being sick, or maybe it was just me being sick of it, had caused me to find the strength to tell him no more. I wasn’t going to stand by and let him smack me around any longer and if I had to use my own physical strength to prevent it, I would.

“Wow, that’s probably a really good call on your part.” Ariana reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “I wish I could do more for you.”

“Are you kidding? What other girlfriend would come over just to read to my mother or change her sheets after she vomits? Who else would encourage her to drink more water by cutting up fresh fruit and putting it at the bottom of the glass? You’re amazing, and I thank God every day for you. I don’t know if I could get through any of this without you.”

Ariana squeezed my hand. “You’ll never have to know,” she said. “And on that note, I told my mother I was having Thanksgiving at your house. I really might have to bring Brandon though because neither of my parents are speaking to him for defending you.”

I smiled. “The more the merrier,” I said. I hated that they gave her a hard time about me, but I loved that she wasn’t willing to stop seeing me because of it. “Do me a favor though?”

She looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes. I really wasn’t sure sometimes that I could wait for her birthday to make love to her. It was killing me. “What’s that?”

“Promise me you won’t feel guilty. You’re a good daughter, but you can’t help how you feel.” I almost said
“who you love,”
but neither of us had said that yet. It was another thing I was saving. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”

“Reading to your mother,” she said, “Dean Koontz’s new book came out today.”

“I am so damned lucky.”

She winked at me and said, “And don’t you forget it, big boy.”

*****

              The months passed, and the holidays came and went. Mom got sicker and was unable to attend to any of her own needs without practically debilitating pain most days. The sicker she got, the more binges Dad went on. I did my best to avoid him because each time I came across him drunk and feeling sorry for himself, a hot rage burned inside my chest until I was almost afraid that I wouldn’t be able to control it. I spent most of my time—when I wasn’t at school—at home with Mom. Ariana did the same, to the chagrin of her own parents.

              Mom’s treatments weren’t working. The tumor wasn’t responding to the chemo or the radiation and it was in a spot that was too dangerous to operate on. Her oncologist had upgraded the stage to IV and he’d told her the two years he’d given her when she was first diagnosed may have been “overly optimistic.” She was losing weight—it seemed—on a daily basis. She could hardly hold anything down any longer. They were now calling the care she received from the nurses “hospice care.” I wasn’t by any means a medical professional, but I’d done enough research on cancer since Mom got sick to know what that meant. It meant that her days were becoming more and more numbered.

I was with her the day the doctor had given her that bit of news. His words had splintered inside of me, causing real, physical pain in my chest. What he was telling us was that—for Mom—there would be no more of the walks in the park she loved. No more birthdays or parties at the club. This winter would be her last and her life from then on out would consist of four walls and lots of pain medication. As he spoke, Mom had listened quietly to him and when he finished she said, “Do you have a form I can sign for a Do Not Resuscitate order?”

I watched in private agony as my mother signed the paperwork that would tell her care providers that when it was time…she should just be let go. On the one hand, I understood her not wanting her chest pounded on and split open. On the other, I felt angry, mostly at myself.  I hated that she was signing it because anything they did to her or for her would be extending her time on this earth just a little bit longer. I felt guilty about that, but it was so hard to be unselfish and understanding when it was your mother they were talking about dying.

Two days before Ariana’s seventeenth birthday, as I sat at Mom’s bedside and we both stared at a game show on television she said, “What are you doing to celebrate Ariana’s birthday?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I cooked her dinner here?” Mom no longer made the trip downstairs to the dining room. She pretty much did everything from the master bedroom. Dad had begun sleeping on the couch when he was home, and only entering the bedroom for his brief daily visits with her.

“That’s a wonderful idea. You won’t burn down the kitchen, will you?”

I grinned at her and said, “I might set off the smoke alarm like some people I know.”

She laughed. She had made her first Thanksgiving dinner from scratch when I was about five years old. She hadn’t covered the turkey pan with a lid or foil and she’d cooked it too long. As the skin turned to ash and dripped down onto the bottom of the oven, it began to smoke. Every smoke detector downstairs began going off. I remember Dad teasing her about it, and when he saw that she had actual tears in her eyes, he’d taken her into his arms and told her how amazing she was. “
You don’t have to cook a perfect turkey. I’m actually glad that you didn’t.”
That was when he was still more flesh and blood than he was alcohol.

Looking confused and with tears rolling down her cheeks, Mom asked him,
“Why?”

Dad had kissed the side of her face and said,
“Because then you would have been too perfect.”
He’d taken us all out to dinner that night, and it was one of the best Thanksgivings that I could
remember. Every year—from there on out—Dad consumed more alcohol and gave in to more of his rages. Sometimes I thought that man was completely gone now, and I wished the one that was left would just stay away.