Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (14 page)

“Is that why you hate
Blake so much?” I ask.

Tyler laughs, shaking
his head in frustration. “That wasn’t it. Accidents happen. It
was after that. Blake was in hospital, so was Chayse. My mother held
a vigil next to his bed. Then I heard her on the phone one night.
Eliza had pulled some strings and somehow, Blake got off with a
three-month stint in rehab and a clean record, but Chayse went to
jail for a year. The police report said that Chayse was driving. They
used Chayse’s grief over losing Hannah, knowing that he wasn’t in
the right frame of mind to really give a damn about putting him in
Blake’s place.”

“So Blake sold Chayse
out,” I say, the thought of Blake,
my
Blake
, pulling such a cold, callous and not to mention
bitch move, eating at me. “And that’s why you hate them both. And
that’s why they avoid you?”

“The truth is a
dangerous weapon in our household, haven’t you heard?” Tyler
quips sardonically. “Chayse had just lost the love of his life. And
it was Blake’s fault. After that, I lost all respect for them both.
I really couldn’t pretend that I was okay with the way either of
them behaved. So I left.”

“Are you sure that
Blake even knew what Eliza did?” I ask quietly.

“Jesus, Emily!”
Tyler says, moving his hand away and glaring at me. “After all
that, you still believe that your fiancée is a good guy?”

“No!” I defend
quickly. “I just haven’t heard his side of the story.”

“Look,” Tyler says
quietly. “I really admire how you can look for the good in people,
I do. But I’m warning you, you won’t find it in the Carson
family. Why do you think I prefer to make a living across
international waters?”

“Tyler, I can’t
just end my engagement based on speculation and hearsay,” I yell,
anger rising in my gut and voice at this whole mess.

“Then don’t, but
for the love of everything holy, open your eyes!” he counters
desperately. He stares out at the dark water before turning back to
me. “Let’s get going,” he says, standing.

I feel guilty for being
so dismissive. When I look into his eyes as he waits for me to stand,
I expect to see hurt, malice, something unpleasant. Instead, his eyes
glisten with their usual warmth. Once again, in a moment where I felt
so confused, I found clarity and comfort in them. He’s right about
one thing though. If that’s what Eliza and Blake are capable of,
then I won’t be able to respect them either.
Ever.

We catch a cab back to
the beauty salon to get my dress. Tyler pays the cab driver and waits
outside. The sun is setting slowly behind the Manhattan skyline.

“Emily, I just don’t
want to see you get hurt, that’s all. I promise.” Tyler says
softly as we walk back to the apartment building.

“I know,” I reply,
staring towards him, doing my best to manufacture a smile.

“Don’t do that.”
Tyler’s brow creases with a frown.

“What?”

“Pretend that
everything is okay, when it isn’t. I thought that by telling you
the answers to the questions you asked, I’d be helping you. And I
hate that you feel this way now because of me.”

“It’s not because
of you. It was—just a lot to take in. And I need to process
everything. You told me the truth. You’re the first person who has.
That means so much,” I stare at him, pouring every inch of
sincerity into my words.

The apartment is empty,
as per usual, when I arrive back. I haven’t heard from Blake all
day, which is also not at all unusual. I resolve to speak to him
about the accident soon.
Hear
him out
. My mind is almost made up. I can’t continue to
live a lie. If Tyler is telling the truth… I let myself fall in
love with Blake. And I have to see those feelings through, see the
commitment through. Until I have solid proof, or Blake gives me a
reason to leave.

“
Tyler
,”
I whisper, staring out at the twilight sky, trying to sift through
the confusion in my mind. My fingers rise to my lips, an action that
has become habitual this past week. “If only I had met you first.”

Blake comes home just
before ten. I’m usually asleep. I had given up waiting up for him
months ago, never knowing what time he’d come home. I decide to go
with the pretense of sleep. He kisses me gently on the cheek,
sweeping a finger lightly across my face to sweep away the bed hair.
After his shower, he falls asleep almost immediately next to me. When
his breathing evens out, I sit up. The bedside lamp casts a soft glow
across his sleeping body.

My eyes fall on a
small, red, raised mark on his back. I lean in, my eyes tracing the
scabby shape of a small serpent. A tattoo, a new one. One that’s
just healing.
One that I didn’t
know about
. I fall against my pillow, tears welling in my
eyes.
Do I have to believe that
everything we’ve shared was a lie?
That
the man I once thought loved me more than life itself, is a complete
and utter stranger?

“Are you sure you
want to skip it?” I say to my father through the phone, laughing.

“Tyler, I hate those
things. You know that. Your mother won’t even miss me with all of
the ass kissing she’ll be doing,” my father quips back. “Besides,
the formal invitation says T. Carson. It doesn’t specifically say
Ted.”

“So you caught Eliza
out on a technicality,” I reply with a smile.

“Go, have fun.
Although, I
am
curious Tyler. Why would you like a ticket to this charity event? You
know both your mother and brother will be there. Normally, you like
to be at least a hundred miles away from them at any given time.”

“Maybe it’s time I
made an appearance,” I say cryptically.

“Have you met Emily
yet?” my father asks. The mention of Emily’s name causes my pulse
to race unnaturally.

“I have. She’s
sweet. Way too sweet for Blake,” I say begrudgingly.

“She’s not his
usual type, that’s for sure.”
I
love the way my father calls it like it is
. “If both my
sons marry women like her, I’ll be a happy man. For God’s sake,
don’t ever marry a control freak like your mother.”

I laugh a short laugh.
“Dad?”

“What’s on your
mind?”

“Hypothetically
speaking, do you think Emily and Blake will last? She doesn’t seem
cut out for this life.” I ask the question tentatively. My father
sees right through it.

“Tyler, I know you
and your brother have had your disagreements. But the fact of the
matter is that Emily is his fiancée. Willingly so. Meaning that she
is off limits to you. You’re the son I can always rely on to do the
right thing. And whatever it is that made you ask me that, consider
how you would feel if the situation were reversed.”

“It was, once
before,” I reply. “And I hate the way he treats her.”

“That may be, but
remember that I said willingly? If she doesn’t have a problem with
her relationship, then why should you?”

“True,” I say
simply. My father and I chat for a few more minutes before I end the
call.

I walk over and fall
into one of my pod chairs. Emily is next door. Fast asleep.
So
close, and still so far away
. I flick open my emails on my
phone. Email after email from the travel editor I’m supposed to be
currently working with in Rio. I politely reply to the last one,
citing a family emergency as the cause for my delay. It
is
a fucking emergency. Emily marrying my brother is an emergency.
A
tragedy, unparalleled.

The next morning, I go
and get fitted for a new suit.
Can’t
possibly go to a black tie event in jeans and a t-shirt, can I?
I don’t see Emily at all for the next few days, though I do see
Blake, twice. And both times, he shoots me a hate-filled glare, but
doesn’t say a word. Saturday arrives quicker than expected.
Why
was I even going? To torture myself by spending the whole evening
watching Emily with Blake?
I sigh as I adjust my thin
black tie.
Suffocation.
I just want to yank the damn thing off.

The town car drives me
to the extravagant hotel that is hosting the event. Hungry
photographers flank one side of the expansive steps leading to the
entrance, wielding cameras like heavy artillery. Two heavy-set
bouncers stand at either side of the huge glass doors, completely
committed to their job of keeping the paparazzi out. Still, cameras
flash mercilessly at everyone who walks past. Maybe they won’t
recognize me.
They probably
don’t
. But they snap away anyway.

As I walk past the
bouncers, invitation in hand, I spy the familiar stiff and upright
frame of the woman that is Eliza Carson. A woman who always looks so
angry. Everything about her is angular. Her hair is pulled tightly
back from her face and pinned in a very organized bun-thing on top of
her head. Her red gown is so very fitting for the hell montage that
comes to mind whenever I see her. She smiles as she greets the
incoming guests. All the strangers, smiling their own prefabricated
smiles right back at her.

And then she sees me.

She immediately walks
over, the artificial smile staying put.

“Tyler,” she coos.
“I didn’t think you were on the guest list.”

“Dad couldn’t make
it,” I say shortly.

“How unusual,” she
retorts sarcastically. “But what, pray tell, are you doing here? If
I remember correctly, you, my son, hate these events.”

“Maybe I’ve just
decided to rejoin society,” I reply nonchalantly, stuffing my hands
into my pants pockets. As I do, another familiar frame strolls into
my peripheral vision. Emily looks radiant, beautiful and so very
uncomfortable, as she laces her arm casually through Blake’s.

Tonight doesn’t do
that dress justice. I preferred her in the no shoes, no makeup,
messy-haired version. But she looks beautiful nonetheless. I quickly
avert my eyes. Not wanting to allude to anything in front of my
mother.

But she’s like a
hunting dog when it comes to sniffing things out. She moves a step
closer.

“I would hope that
you’re not here to cause any trouble,” she scolds quietly.

“When are you going
to figure out that I am not the troublemaker? I just haven’t
followed the blueprint you designed for my life when I was born. I’d
hardly call exercising free will a form of troublemaking,” I reply
coldly.

I avoid her eyes and
turn to walk away. Her hand grips my arm gently. “Tyler, this is an
important night. Try not to embarrass your brother and I with your
rash impulsiveness.” I shake my hand free and continue to walk, so
glad to not be a member of Team Fucked Up, AKA Eliza and Blake.

I barely see Emily for
the first hour of the event. I look for her, but the ballroom is
huge, and the bouffant hairstyles and large, swishing dresses are
keeping her well out of my line of sight. Not to mention my avoidance
of Blake relegates me to the opposite end of the room from her.