Tyler (21 page)

“Hey, Rafe, you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Worried about me now?” He gives himself a little shake and shoots me a crooked grin. “I’ll be fine, just tired. Going to meet Erin?”

“No. Meeting Ash for a drink. Wanna come?”

“Not tonight. Another time.” He tucks a strand of blond hair behind his ear, the many hoops there glinting. “You and Erin go way back, don’t you?”

“High school.”

“She’s one awesome chick. And she’s really into you, man.”

“Not so sure about that right now,” I blurt. “And I can’t blame her. With everything I’ve got going on, why would she…?” I snap my mouth shut.
Dammit.

Rafe’s eyes have narrowed. “Just take it slow with her, man. Give her time.”

I let out a breath. “Listen... I gotta go.” I zip up my jacket. “Will you close shop, or should I wait for you?”

“I’ll do it. Go catch up with Asher. He’s a good guy.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, he’s the best. Call me if you need anything.”

He doesn’t move from his spot in front of the desk as I open the door to the street, but I think I hear him mutter, “Nobody can help.”

But when I pause and turn toward him, he isn’t looking my way.

***

“You say Rafe looked off?” Ash frowns at me over his beer bottle. “You sure?”

I shrug. I don’t know what to say. I’m kinda out of my element here—actually sitting to talk with someone, and that someone is my brother who may or may not have forgiven me.

“You’re good friends?” I finally ask.

“We’re getting there. Rafe’s a great guy.”

“He said the same about you. Get a room, you two.”

Ash blinks at me, a frown threatening, but then his gaze clears and he laughs. “Motherfucker, Ty.”

“That’s me.” I sip at my beer. “So how’s it going? You look much better.” Easy to do. He’d looked half-dead at the ER and even later, at Dad’s funeral, and the memory twists my stomach.

“I am. Everything’s in working order.”

Emotion clogs my throat. I swallow it down. “Good. And your lessons? When are the GED tests?”

He turns the bottle in his hands. “Have a lot of catching up to do. Not quite there yet.”

Shit, I don’t mean to stress him, get him all defensive.
Way to go, Tyler—first chance you get to talk to him, and you make him wish he’d never made the effort.

“What about you?” he asks. He has Dad’s eyes, but the rest of him is all Mom. He has her mouth, her nose, her brows. “Been okay since that night?”

I raise a brow at him. “What night?”

“At Damage.”

Oh
that
night.
Damn.
“Yeah, I’m great.”

“You’re not a good liar, Ty. You never were.”

Ash sees right through me, so I lift my beer and take a long drink. “Getting better.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

I put my bottle down. “Talked to Rafe. He says I just have to slog along, exercise and eat. Keep afloat until the symptoms go away. Says a doctor can’t help me at this stage.”

Ash nods. “What about a psychologist?”

“Not sure.” I can barely talk to my brother, and I’ll spill my guts to a stranger?

“It helps,” Ash mutters, and I itch to ask if he’s seeing one, when he says, “Why do you think Dad left those boxes for us?”

My breath catches. The boxes with the teddy bear, the knife and the birth certificates. “I don’t know.”

I’ve thought about it. Is it Dad’s way of pleading guilty? Of giving himself in, even belatedly? Is it just a madman’s trophies—mementos of favorite moments?

“Do you think…?” He swallows. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Am I like Dad?”

A loaded question. I know what he’s asking. Not about the physical appearance, that’s not what he’s worried about. His eyes are flat, his face blank, but his hands betray him, tearing at the label of his beer bottle, scrunching up the strips of paper.

“You’re nothing like Dad, Ash. Unless you started killing puppies when I wasn’t looking.”

He lets out a soft snort. “I’ve been thinking, you know, about what you said back at the hospital… What about your father? Who is he?”

My back stiffens and the muscles in my legs lock. “A boxer, ex-buddy of Dad’s. He wouldn’t tell me his name. I asked Mom, but she didn’t wanna tell me, either. I wanted to meet him, just to see what sort of guy he is. Moot point, I guess.”

Ash accepts this with a nod. “And Uncle Jerry... How was it, living with him?”

“It was okay,” I say carefully.

“You said he was crazy.”

Did I?
“He was hooked on all sorts of pills. He was unpredictable and high out of his mind most of the time, so yeah...”

“Who cooked for you? How did you live like that?”

“A lady came by. I think she was from China. She didn’t speak English. She cooked and cleaned a bit.” I can see the house in my memory, the old wooden floors, the big windows and the porch, the verandas with the tree foliage rustling overhead, the clear blue skies. “I rarely saw Jerry. He spent most of his time locked up in his room upstairs, had his meals there, stayed far from everyone.”

Loneliness. Isolation. Silence that goes on and on.

This memory isn’t as bad as the one of the basement, but it was a long, dark time that went on and on, alternating between the highs of the pills and the depressive lows where I would curl on the floor like an animal and wish the earth would swallow me.

My hand’s twitching on the table, and my leg is bouncing. The urge to start counting is getting hard to ignore.

“Ty.” Ash is frowning at me. “You all right?”

I curl my hand into a fist to stop the twitching. “Look, I lived through that, okay? I lived through Dad’s craziness and Jerry’s absence. I’m here now. I’m...” I force a long breath into my lungs, hold it as long as I can before exhaling. “I’m doing my best, believe me, Ash.”

Ash is staring at me as if I’ve grown horns. This is a fucking disaster. I can’t even talk about my recent past without having a breakdown.
What the hell?

“Hey.” Ash puts his beer bottle down carefully. “Listen... It’s okay.”

I blink at him, still trying to regulate my erratic breathing. Trying to understand what he’s saying.

“Talking about such stuff is hard.” Ash absently rubs his side, and I recall that’s the spot where he was sliced open by the thugs who attacked him a couple months back. “At first I didn’t want to talk about Dad and the beatings to anyone. Didn’t want anyone to see the scars or know I didn’t manage to fight back to save myself. That I held out hope that Dad would come back to his senses one day. I thought people would laugh in my face, you know? Make fun of me.”

I nod, because that’s my greatest fear when it comes to Ash—and Erin.

“Look, I know I didn’t give you a chance to explain at first. I was so fucking mad at you, I wanted to bash you head in.” Ash sucks on the inside of his cheek and looks away. “I know you don’t feel comfortable with me. Hell, I punched you last time. I won’t lie. I’m still mad at you, but I understand.” He blows out air from the corner of his mouth, clasps his hands together and stares at me long and hard, as if wrestling with something. Then he looks away. “I understand enough to realize things aren’t as black and white as I thought.”

Hell.
Can’t remember the last time I heard him talk so much, or so fast. He sounds nervous.

“So what I wanted to say, man, we can just hang out and meet with the guys and Audrey and do stuff and... We can talk more about this later.” He pauses and exhales. “When you feel better. We have time. I mean, if you’re staying. Or visiting us again later. Are you... ? Hell, I don’t know what you plan on doing and—”

“Ash.”

His eyes flash up, and for a second, I see something in them that raises every hair on my body.

Fear.

He’s scared shitless. It’s not that he’s afraid
of
me, or even
for
me, I realize. He’s afraid I’ll vanish into thin air again.

Can’t blame him. Dammit, Zane said it: I’m the only family Ash’s got left. Sure, he has Audrey and his friends, but what if he needs me around, after all? Flaws and all, ticks and OCD and withdrawal symptoms and screaming nightmares?

Ash is chewing on the inside of his cheek again, and I resist an urge to tell him to stop. I also have an urge to get up and leave or put my fist through the table and let out my frustration.

Instead, I take another swig of my beer. “I don’t plan on leaving.”

Silence falls. The sounds from the nearby tables and the music fade. Ash is running a hand through his spiky hair, tugging as if he wants to rip it all out.

“Okay,” he finally says, barely audible. “Good. Yeah, that’s good.” He stands up, sending his chair screeching back. “Gonna grab us some more beers.”

I nod. I have a knot the size of Wisconsin in my throat, and I can’t swallow.

And Ash is just standing there, and I can’t hide.

“Hey, Ty.” There’s a tiny hitch in Ash’s voice, but his eyes are clear again when I look up. “Welcome back.”

Erin

It’s been two days since I last saw Tyler, since I jumped out of his bed and rushed out of his apartment, after going through the gamut of emotions—fear, relief, sadness, affection, love, attraction—and then the hottest sex of my life.

Why I ran?

Simple. I panicked. I was this close to blurting out the whole truth—about why I’d broken up with him and called him names four years ago, making him believe I never wanted to see him again. About how I felt then and how I feel now about him, how much I need him.

And about Jax.

I panicked because I still have no way of guessing how Tyler will react. A boy whose father was a monster. How will he feel when he finds out he’s a father himself? How will he feel about me for keeping this a secret until now?

Besides, I’m not the carefree girl he used to know. I’m a mother, and I have responsibilities, debts and expenses and a little boy I need to spend time with.

I know I’m only putting off the inevitable. I can’t hide Jax forever, especially not from Tyler. Rationally, I know it’s the sooner the better. The sooner I know Tyler’s reaction to the news, the easier it will be for me to move on. The more time passes, the more attached I become to Tyler and the harder it is to accept whatever his decision will be.

Problem is, I’m so in love with him—have been from the start—that I don’t think there’s any easy way out of this. He’ll shatter my heart.

Which is why I’m procrastinating and keeping away, struggling not to think of him every minute of the day.

Obviously, I fail. I keep seeing his beautiful face, the hard line of his jaw, the soft curve of his mouth, his strong body... My thoughts are wrapped around him like cling wrap.

I find myself doodling during classes, tripping over things, forgetting my student’s Spanish subjunctive test at home and buying full fat milk instead of skim. Tyler used to love pancakes, and I pick up a box of mixture and syrup, before I remember I’m avoiding him. He used to like Mexican food, so I eye the avocados and tortillas.

God.
I pay and leave for home as quickly as I can without running full out.
Oh, yeah, Erin, you’re not thinking of him at all. Great job. Keep it up.

It doesn’t help that I’m concerned. Is he okay? Did he have another attack? Did he sleep well? Is he eating?

By the time I reach home in the evening, I’m a nervous wreck. Will he call me if he doesn’t feel well? After I ran away like that, I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Crap.

I’d ask Zane for advice, but he still hasn’t come back to town and doesn’t answer my phone calls. So I call the only other person I think might know how Tyler is doing.

Rafe.

He answers on the third ring. I can hear music in the background. “Hey, Erin. How is it going?”

I tug on the hem of my sweater. “Just checking on you.”

“On me? Really?” I can hear a grin in his voice. “Are you sure it’s not this dark-haired guy who mans the front desk you want?”

Heat rises to my face. “Is he okay?”

Rafe chuckles. “Well, I haven’t been at Damage today and didn’t see him, but he seemed okay yesterday.”

I pace around my kitchen, relieved. “Great, thanks, Rafe.”

“Is there a reason you’re calling me to ask and not him? I have his phone number, if you want.”

Crap.
“No, thanks, I’m good.”

“All right.” A pause. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, except for the fact that you can’t seem to keep your eyes or your hands off each other. The night he had the panic attack, he couldn’t breathe until he knew you were there. You dropped everything and ran to his side, stayed the night with him. And all this despite whatever mess in the past and the fact he was away for years. That’s something special.”

“What do you know about it?” I ask and it comes out so bitter it hurts.

“Oh, come on. I’m not Zane, okay? Not gonna go all philosophical and Zen on you. I’m a cynic. But I know special when I see it, that’s all I’m saying.” He chuckles, and I frown, wondering if he’s high.

“I just... need time to think.”

“His panic attack scared you, is that it? Or the fact he was an addict? He seems to think as much.”

Cold seeps into my chest. “What are you talking about? It’s not that.”
It’s me. My secrets. My indecisions.

“We’re all addicted to something or someone,” Rafe mutters and disconnects, leaving me staring at my cell screen.

Can’t really argue with that. Not when I know I’m addicted to Tyler Devlin.

***

At night, I stare at the glowing stars on my ceiling. Fake, not real. I think I can smell Tyler, feel his warmth next to me. Phantom sensations.

I miss him so much it feels as if I have a hole in my chest. Why am I hesitating? If I’m worried about him not being worth the try, then why am I even thinking it? If I believe I’ll lose him over Jax, then what good is he?

I have to tell him. It’s not as if my heart will harden if I wait a few more days. And if he believes I’m disgusted by the panic attacks and his past, then…

What are you doing, Erin? What are you waiting for?

I turn on the light and pick up my cell phone. Midnight. Chances are Tyler is asleep—or maybe not…