Summer's Temptation (23 page)

“I’m not going to lose it?” I sniffle.

“Nope.”

“It’s just swelling?” I stare at my leg and try to figure out how I’ll ever move a thigh big enough for a rhinoceros.

She smiles reassuringly. “Just swelling.”

I sink into the bed, giving myself a moment for the panic to subside. As the ache in my leg lessens, my gaze fans out across the room. The evening sun spilling through the window dimly illuminates the darkest corners. I don’t see anyone else besides my mom and sister. Tyler’s absence surprises me.

I keep going over the room as if I can make him appear. Could he be outside in the waiting room? “Mom? There was a boy with me when I got bitten…”

She nods. “Tyler.”

“Has he been here?”

“No. I’ve been trying to reach him all day. Hannah gave me his number. She said he saved you, and I want to thank him.”

“He wasn’t here when you arrived?”

She shakes her head. “Hannah said he left when she and Dylan showed up.”

“And he hasn’t been back.”

It wasn’t a question, but my mom says, “No. I haven’t left, so I’d know.” She raises an eyebrow. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Somewhere in the recess of my mind, I hear him yell, “God damn it, I love you.” It sounded so real, and I vaguely recall hearing it just before I’d been submerged in darkness. My heart sighs and stretches contentedly as if his words were real, but they were just a hallucination induced by a venom-soaked mind.

“We’re friends. For now,” I finally say.

My mom smiles. “I’ve never met him, and I already love him.”

He’s not hard to love
, I want to tell her, but it’s too soon to reveal emotions that deep.

Three days later, Freddy sits by my hospital bed, leaning toward me with his brown eyes wide. I’ve just told him about Mr. Westbrook’s kiss, Tyler’s reaction, and how it all led to a field by the lake and a feisty snake.

“You’re livin’ a soap opera, girl. Two fine men fighting over you. You should be ashamed of yourself.” He smiles smugly. “Didn’t I tell you Mr. Westbrook had a thing for you? I’m always right.”

I barely hear a thing after the words “two fine men” leave his lips
.
Freddie’s never flat-out called a man good looking before, and it makes me wonder if he’s had a breakthrough. But if it was only a Freudian slip of the tongue, I’m not sure I should point it out. Coyness is probably my best bet if I want to discover what’s going on in his head.

I fiddle with the white sheet covering my legs. “So if you had to decide between Mr. Westbrook and Tyler, who would you choose?”

Without hesitation, he says, “Team Tyler, all the way.” He flips up the collar of his white polo, exactly the way Tyler wore his shirt the day Freddie saw him. “He’s got the
hot
James Dean look down to an art.” He winks at me. Actually winks.

The boy knows what he’s insinuating, and I don’t feel the need to tiptoe around the subject anymore. “You openly admit Tyler’s hot?”

His eyes glitter with orneriness. “He’s man candy.”

“Freddy!”

“What? It’s true.”

“I know it’s true, but I never thought you’d say it.”

“Just because I admit he’s candy doesn’t mean I’m ready to taste,” Freddy says.

“But are you thinking about tasting? Not Tyler, of course. We’d have a diva smack down if you tried to take him. But… is there someone else?”

He shakes his head, his sparkling eyes dimming a degree. “Naw. I’m still figuring all this out.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it right now. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He grabs the stuffed snake curled around my bed rail, a present from Dylan and Josh, and drapes it around my neck. “Tell me more about this Tyler of yours.”

“I wish you could meet him.” I adjust the snake so its little head rests just below my shoulder.

Freddy leans back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Maybe if I hang around long enough, he’ll show up.”

That won’t happen. Tyler hasn’t come around since I was admitted to the ER, but I don’t tell Freddy that. It’s too depressing to think about Tyler refusing to visit.

Freddy stays for another thirty minutes while I fill him in on the finer points of antivenin and the beauty of a painkiller known as Dilaudid. When he leaves, I have a moment of quiet in an otherwise visitor-filled day at the ICU. I grab a tissue from the box by my bed and blow my nose. My allergies are acting up from the pollen coming off the twenty dozen flowers surrounding me. Every flat surface that isn’t occupied by a vase has a get-well card or a stuffed animal holding balloons. Mr. Westbrook—I mean, Aiden—dropped by and gave me a dozen red roses. Even Wyatt sent a potted hydrangea the size of a football field, along with a half-dozen foil balloons and a pink sock monkey. I’m not certain how I feel about either of their gifts, but I do know one thing for sure. I’d trade all the flowers, cards, and gifts for one visit from Tyler.

I push aside my uneaten lunch, grab my cell, and hold it up so I can see the screen. Three new texts. None of them from him. My sigh pierces the quiet room.

I’m trying to enjoy my rare moment alone. If it’s not Hannah, Liz, or my family trying to entertain me, then it’s random friends coming by or a constant stream of nurses and doctors monitoring my progress. I’ve never felt so loved, except by the one person I want it from.

After turning the ring volume up on my phone so I don’t miss new texts, I lay it on the stand next to my bed and wonder why Tyler’s MIA. According to Hannah, he rode over in the ambulance and stayed until she arrived. After that, he left but called her every fifteen minutes until the doctors announced I’d survive. No one’s heard from him since. I’ve spent my entire stay wondering where he is and why he won’t visit or at least answer my texts. When I’m not obsessing over his whereabouts, I’m mentally replaying the night I was bitten and how he called me his girlfriend.

Girlfriend isn’t a term Tyler uses lightly, even during a time of crisis. I’m probably fixating on the word because I want him as more than a fuck buddy, and the only way I’ll get the courage to broach the subject is if I think he wants more too.

I know I’m playing with fire. No one thinks Tyler’s boyfriend material, but over the last two months, I’ve seen a different side of him. One that’s sweet and caring and even a little possessive. It’s time we figure out if this relationship’s deepening, but I can’t do that until I see him. So far, that’s proving impossible. He’s not even answering his phone.

My cell chirps, and I check the screen. A text message. From Tyler. My heart leaps in my chest.

How’s the snake bite?
he asks.

I type back,
Have you ever seen a chubby person cram into a leotard five sizes too small? That’s what my leg looks like.
I have to retype
leotard
three times since autocorrect doesn’t recognize it and my fingers are trembling. When I finally push send, I hold my breath for a reply. I can’t help but expect him to disappear again.

Sounds sexy.

I release my breath on a long sigh and type with steadier fingers
, It’s not pretty, but I’m told I won’t be disfigured.
I glower at my purple leg, my stomach knotting.
Not sure I believe them.

You’ll still be hot, bum leg and all.

Thanks.

Could you imagine if it bit your chest?

I laugh so loud, I snort.
There’s an idea. Instead of implants, just use a rattlesnake. Side effects, death and severe bruising.

I wait for a reply but get nothing. I text again, more serious this time.
Thank you for saving me.

Just glad I was there.

Me too.

When are you breaking out of that joint?

Few more days. I’ve had sixty vials of antivenin so far and need about twelve more.
If you miss me,
y
ou can come see me.

I chew on my fingernail, waiting for him to text back. When he doesn’t, my happy buzz from finally talking to him fizzes out.
Or not
, I text.

I sigh, abandoning my finger and biting the inside of my cheek instead. Everybody and their dog has visited me. I don’t understand why Tyler won’t drive the four miles to the hospital just to say hi. I don’t expect him to stay for more than five minutes. Hospitals are antiseptic and overrun by cocky doctors, stressed nurses, and cranky sick people. Not exactly a fun place for anyone, especially someone who spent time in hospitals with a sick ex-girlfriend, but I thought after everything we’ve been through, he’d care enough to show. Maybe
girlfriend
really was a slip of the tongue.

My phone chirps. Tyler texts,
Will you go to the lake again or have you sworn it off?

“Way to change the subject,” I mumble. I type,
I’ll go back eventually, wearing jeans, boots, and a long sleeve shirt.

Next time you go, you’re packing the snake kit in your duffel,
he texts back.
That’s an order.

I suck in a sharp breath, reading between the lines. He’s not coming with me. My heart beats like a techno drum, faster and faster and faster. He’s still mad about Aiden. That’s why he hasn’t visited. I’ve been so busy focusing on everything else going on, I haven’t once thought he’d still be angry over my teacher.

My phone chirps.
And you’re taking me.

He’s not mad! Hallelujah! If I hadn’t been weaned from Dilaudid this morning, I would have jumped for joy, but the pain keeps me bedridden.

I can handle those orders,
I type.

Call me when you’re ready to get kinky again. I promise to be extra gentle.

You have to promise your snake won’t bite me too.

It won’t bite, but it might make you scream.

I smile like a lunatic. All I need is to see his shining blue eyes, and this moment would be perfect.
Come visit me
.

Hospitals and I don’t get along very well.

I briefly wonder if his stubbornness has something to do with his mom’s death, but I beg anyway.
Please. Please. Please.

I’ll come over to your house as soon as you’re out. I promise.

Sheesh. He’s impossible, but I’m floating on the high that he’s still mine, so I stop pressing.
Take the leap
, a small voice in my head pleads.
Tell him you care.

I tap the edge of my phone, wondering where the urge is coming from. I want to tell him about my feelings in person, to gauge his reaction, but an insistent impulse demands I do it now. I try to stifle the desire—now isn’t the right time—but like the low-level hum of pain in my leg, it refuses to be ignored.

I type a compromise,
You mean a lot to me.
My message doesn’t say much, and it’s a chicken-shit way to do it, but I don’t want to be the first one to put my heart out there. I need some sort of affirmation that he feels the same way before I take that leap.

If anything happened to you, I’m pretty sure I would have hunted down every rattlesnake in Texas for revenge.

My hero.

Just call me Snake Man. I save hot women from venomous predators.

I can’t do it anymore. I can’t let us tiptoe around what isn’t being said. I have to know if we’re fuck buddies or if this is turning into more.

I tap out a message that will change everything between us. My thumb hovers over
send
.

Chapter 23

M
y heart monitor chatters a little faster than normal as I imagine the repercussions of what I’m about to do.

On my cell screen is a message that says,
I think I might be falling for you, Tyler.

Send it
, I chant in my mind.
Send it, send it, send it
.
Force Tyler to acknowledge this thing between us.
A text isn’t the way to do this—I should wait until we’re together and I can see his expression, read his face—but I’m so damn tempted to press send.

With my free hand, I slide the stuffed snake from around my neck. Bells in the tail make a muted tinkling sound. I guess it’s supposed to be a rattler, but it’s blue and looks nothing like a real rattlesnake. They probably got it for that very reason. No one wants an exact replica of the thing that tried to kill them.

The snake’s thin tongue seems to lick my palm, and I wrap it around my finger while I stare into the viper’s tiny blue eyes. “You want me to send it, right?”

Dear God, I’m talking to inanimate objects. That doesn’t stop me from wiggling my finger, making the snake’s head bob up and down. Of course it wants me to send it. The little devil’s cousin tried to
off
me, and leaving unsaid words seems stupid and ridiculously immature after almost dying.

I throw the snake toward the end of the bed and raise my phone, changing the message.
I’m falling for you, Tyler.
There’s no use in watering down the text with words like
think
and
might
.

Just before I hit send, the door to my room bursts open. I lift my head to see my best friends strolling in. Hannah carries a bouquet of pink, purple, yellow, and white roses wrapped in sage-green tissue paper. Liz follows her with a golden box of Godiva chocolates. Considering the gifts they come bearing, I’d expect them to be smiling, but Hannah’s twisting her hands around the flowers until the paper crinkles. Liz absently runs her tongue over her bottom lip, eyes blank as though she’s busy internalizing something.

I’m a little annoyed at their timing. Working up the nerve to text my emotions to a boy I’m not even sure reciprocates those feelings was a bitch, but it’s hard to stay irritated at two girls who’ve hardly left my side over the last week.

“Pretty flowers,” I say on a sigh. Even though they don’t have a vase, it’s probably the most beautiful bouquet in the room, which is saying something. “Didn’t you already get me a bouquet though?”

Hannah holds them out to me. “They’re not from us.”

Liz drops the chocolates next to my tray of uneaten food. She nabs my cell, probably so I can grab the flowers. As she sweeps the cell out of my reach, I make a little protesting sound, but Hannah shakes the bouquet. Petals jiggle, urging me to hold them.

I wrap them in my arms, peering back at my phone. Holding such gorgeous flowers makes it hard to stay upset, despite the message I haven’t sent, and I’m curious who bought them. I search for a card, but all I see is a stamp on the wrinkled paper wrapping the stems.
Flowers by Tiffany,
the most expensive florists in town.

“Who are they from?” I ask.

Hannah grimaces. “Tyler.” She slips to the other side of my bed.

I feel my eyes widen, brows rising to my hairline. “Really?” My heart flutters.

Liz nods. “Yep.” She sidles next to me, looking down at my catheter bag.

I realize why Hannah made a face when she said Tyler’s name then moved away. She’s not a fan of pee bags. I thought she was just annoyed he’d asked her to deliver his flowers.

Liz doesn’t seem bothered by a little urine, and she rests a hip on the bedrail. “The chocolates are from him too.”

I bury my face in the soft petals and breathe deep, filling my nose with the delicate floral scent.
Tyler Mason. Bought. Me. Flowers.
I want to dance a little jig of happiness but settle for filling my lungs with their perfume. When the initial rush of pleasure passes over me, I straighten, only one question on my mind. “Why didn’t he bring them?”

Liz folds her arms over her chest, eyes narrower than normal. “That boy has issues.”

I place the bouquet on my lap and give her my full attention. “What’s that mean?”

“He threw the flowers and the chocolates in the trash,” Hannah replies. “I dug them out.”

The trash?
My fluttering hearts sinks to my stomach. The room goes silent as I try to puzzle out what she just said. My brain clinks through five different gears until, baffled, I give up. “Why would he do that?”

Hannah shrugs.

Liz holds my phone up and scrolls. When she stops dragging her index finger up the screen, she snorts. “Ha! You hope his snake won’t bite you. You’re funny, Cassie.”

“Stop reading my messages,” I bark, but I’m too busy figuring out the mystery of the trashed flowers to get truly angry. I turn to Hannah. “If he threw them in the trash, why do you have them?”

Hannah plops down in a chair and nibbles her thumbnail. “Liz and I watched him pace in front of the hospital’s main entrance for fifteen minutes.”

“You spied on him?”

Liz rolls her eyes. “It’s not spying if it’s in a public place.” She continues to scroll through my phone until she pauses, eyes widening. “You can’t send this, Cassie.”

I reach for my cell, surprised it took her so long to comment on my intimate message. “Give me my phone.”

She steps out of my reach. “I can’t do that.” At least she has the decency to look contrite.

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to the sick person?” I point at myself with my thumbs. “Hello! Snake-bite victim!”

She holds the phone just out of my reach. “I’m trying to help you.”

“You’re stressing me out, Liz. How is that helping?”

Hannah hops from the chair and hurries to my bed. With a bump of her hip, she pushes Liz aside. “No stressing her out, Liz.” Like a doting mother, she brushes my bangs out of my eyes. “We aren’t sure why Tyler threw your present in the trash. He paced forever as if he was trying to get the courage to walk into the hospital, then he just seemed to deflate, like it was too much for him. That’s when he dumped the stuff. I snatched it out of the bin, and we came straight up here.”

I run a finger over a pink petal. At least two dozen roses rest in my arms. They must have cost a small fortune, and a big box of Godivas aren’t cheap. “So he was going to come see me and give me flowers, but he changed his mind. Why is he so skittish?”

Even as I ask, I know the answer. If his mom didn’t die instantly in the car crash, she could have spent weeks in the hospital. Tyler would have been by her side, watching her slip away. My stomach pitches at the thought of a teenage Tyler in a room like this, feeling helpless and overwhelmed.

Liz turns the phone’s screen toward me. She points at a message. “He says here he doesn’t get along with hospitals. Maybe he chickened out. Maybe he had a traumatic event at a hospital, and they scare him. Maybe it reminds him of his mortality. It could be any number of reasons.”

“I think it has to do with his mom,” I say. “But that doesn’t explain him throwing the flowers away. He could have dropped them off at our house.” Something made him decide I shouldn’t get them, and I’m afraid I’ll never know what. “We were texting when you walked in the room.” I try to let that make me feel better. At least he wanted to talk, even if he couldn’t make himself come see me or give me his gift.

Liz stares at my phone again, brow furrowed. “I’m glad we caught you when we did. If you sent this—”

“I was bitten by a damn snake, Liz. It puts things in perspective. If I want to open up to Tyler, that’s my decision.” I hold out my hand, palm up. “Now stop being so nosy and give me my phone.”

Liz presses her hands together, phone tucked between them, and bows her head as if she’s summoning strength or thinking hard about something. Definitely thinking, I decide with my hand still out.

After a few seconds, she pivots to Hannah. “I know the timing sucks and we said we’d wait, but we have to tell her.”

Hannah wrings her hands; her knuckles turn white from the pressure. “But she’s sick.”

I sit up straighter, looking from one girl to the other. My stomach tightens as if I’ve just done six dozen sit-ups. Based on the apprehension in Hannah’s expression, whatever she has to say won’t be pleasant to hear, and my heart monitor beeps faster in agreement. Liz holds the phone up for Hannah to read.

Hannah mouths the words,
I’m falling for you, Tyler
. She blanches, looks at me, then back at the phone. While nibbling her rosy bottom lip, she puffs up her cheeks, then blurts, “Tyler hooked up with a girl last week.” She sucks in a sharp breath, hand over her mouth, eyes trained on me.

My leg throbs as if it’s been beaten by a hammer. An alarm sounds shrilly.

“Oh, my God!” Hannah shrieks. “I’ve killed her!”

I glance at the heart monitor. My pulse is elevated and rising. The automatic blood pressure cuff goes off, squeezing my arm like a boa constrictor.

A split second later, a nurse strolls in. “I just need to check your vitals. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I lie, taking deep breaths to calm my heart. I feel as if I’ve been hollowed out by an ice-cream scoop. Nothing’s left inside me but a few bits of intestine and maybe a dab of liver.

The nurse takes the flowers from me and hands them to Hannah. “Hold these, please.” The cuff stops constricting, and the nurse checks my blood pressure “One-thirty-two over ninety.” She smiles at me. “Let’s try it one more time.” The second time, my pressure has gone down to one-twenty-one over eighty-two. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check again.”

When she walks out the door, I turn to Hannah, attempting to appear composed even though I’m drowning. I finally decided to put myself out there again, and I got mowed down before I even got the chance. I’d known Tyler hooking up was a possibility, but I’d hoped his appearance at the lake meant he hadn’t. “You’re sure?”

She nibbles on her index finger, nodding. “I watched him take a girl to his room.”

The puzzle pieces fall together. “That’s what you were going to tell me Sunday night.”

She nods.

“When did he hook up with the girl? The night of our fight?” I whisper. “Wednesday night?”

“Yeah.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to keep from losing it. He bought me flowers and chocolate. He wants to go to the lake with me. He cares about me. There has to be a logical explanation to what Hannah saw.

I push the little button on my bed. The motor whirs until I’m sitting up at a nearly ninety-degree angle. “You’re positive they hooked up? I mean, what if he drew her? Or they talked?” I know how ridiculous I sound, but I’m desperate.

Liz places her hand on my shoulder. Touching isn’t her thing, so if she feels the need to comfort me, I know just how pathetic I sound. “We’re talking about Tyler.”

No one speaks. I think they’re giving me a moment for the truth to sink in.

“He hooked up with another girl.” I say each word slowly, making sure they stick. When they stop bouncing off the rubber force field of denial I’ve wrapped around myself, I add, “Erase the message, Liz.”

“Already did.”

Hannah shifts uncomfortably, and the flowers in her arms rustle. I stare at the beautiful roses, a sad reminder of what I can’t have. He was right to throw them in the trash, but they’re too pretty to put back there. “Take them home, Hannah. I don’t want to see them.” I tilt my head toward the gold Godiva box. “And the chocolates.” I stare at them longingly. “On second thought, leave the chocolates. I think I need them.” When Liz doesn’t hand them over, I add, “Like right now.”

Liz hurries into action. She opens the lid and holds the box out to me. I find a dark piece with a lion’s head outlined in the chocolate and nab it from its pleated paper. I cram it in my mouth, not bothering to savor it, and chew. I hope to derive a spark of pleasure from the sweetness, but I might as well be eating cardboard. My stomach rumbles in protest when I swallow.

“I’m not even allowed to hate him the way I do Wyatt,” I say. I don’t hate him, not even a smidgen. Revenge fantasies got me through the worst of my breakup with Wyatt, but I’m not even allowed those. “This sucks.”

I’m the one who asked him to be my fuck buddy and then allowed myself to get in too deep. I’m the one who has to take responsibility for this whole mess, not Tyler. He didn’t owe me fidelity. He served a function, and he did it well. Because of him, Mr. Westbrook isn’t sitting by my bed right now. I’m grateful for that, but I’m not sure it’s worth the pain.

With the back of my hand, I wipe my mouth, smearing a dab of chocolate across my knuckles. “It’s so much easier to be heartbroken when you’ve been screwed over.”

“You loved him?” Hannah asks, big eyes welling with tears.

“I don’t know. I mean, no. I don’t love him. Not yet, but I was definitely heading in that direction.” I sigh. “Liz, the next time you open your big mouth and tell me to do something, like get a fuck buddy, I’m Super Gluing your lips together.”

Liz grimaces. “If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”

We’re silent for a moment, and then I ask, “You know what the worst part is?”

“That you can’t kick Liz’s behind right now?” Hannah says.

“Nope. I get to spend the next year avoiding our neighbors in an attempt to get over a guy I should never have cared for in the first place.”

“You’re gonna dump him?” Liz asks.

“Unless I want to hand him my heart and watch him tear it apart, muscle fiber by muscle fiber, I don’t see any other option. Do you?”

Liz shakes her head. “No.”

My phone chirps, and Liz looks at the screen. “It’s Tyler. He wants to know if you’re still there. Want me to tell him you’re sleeping?” I nod, and she taps the keypad. “He says to call him when you get up.”

“Not gonna happen.” I can’t talk to him until I’m sure I have the energy and the fortitude to end our relationship. That’s a level of physical healing and emotional stability that’s light-years away at this point.

“It’ll be okay,” Hannah says, squeezing my shoulder.

I nod, more for her than me, but I know she’s right. It’s not like I haven’t been through this before. Just because my insides are missing today doesn’t mean they won’t grow back over the next few weeks. I smile weakly, preparing for the uphill battle of getting my mind off Tyler. “Anyone bring some trashy mags?”