Tyler (3 page)

“We were together,” I say under Zane’s close scrutiny. Nothing escapes those dark eyes. “Tyler and I. We’d been together for a year when he left. I never knew what happened to him until now.”

“Fuck.” Zane’s gaze turns stormy. “Motherfucker. I think I’ll go bust his chops now.”

“No.” I grab his wrist. “Please, Zane. Don’t say anything to him.”

He hesitates, rocks back on his heels, dips his head. Zane has a heart of gold. We used to sit together in literature and biology class at school, and when I came back to town and saw his ad for someone to share his apartment, I called him on the spot and never regretted it.

“For all it’s worth,” Zane finally says, his voice just a breath, “I think something happened to Tyler.”

I freeze, my fingers clenching around the bones of his wrist, around the colorful ink that covers it. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t look up. I can see his throat working. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, Erin. More than I care to remember on most days. And I know the look on the face of a man who’s been to hell and back.” He finally glances up, a flash of concern going through his eyes. “I don’t know what made him leave, but I think maybe you should try to talk to him.”

I release Zane’s wrist and curl my hands in my lap. My chest feels heavy. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to
me
?”

Because I am at fault. Because I flipped out on him over nothing back then and hurt him.

“Girl, the way he was staring at you...” Zane shakes his head. “Trust me when I tell you he does.”

***

Tessa comes to pick me up before I manage to gather my wits. Her blue eyes narrow on me when she enters Damage Control but she says nothing as she hauls me out and into her Jeep Cherokee.

I like Tessa. We’ve become friends over the year. I help her with her Spanish lessons and she helps me with math. I suck at math.

I suck at plenty of things. But as Tessa drives us to her new favorite cafe for cappuccino and catching up, I get distracted and forget about that. She always has a lot to tell me about boys and assignments and friends and late nights out at the bars.

As for myself, I mainly listen and nod. Tess is used to my lack of exciting news. Between my parents’ home, college and teaching Spanish to kids for money, I hardly have time to breathe, let alone go out. I’m used to it by now. And Tessa may prod and push me to go out with her on occasion, but she doesn’t press too much, as if she feels there’s some scar tissue there that still hurts, and she wants to let me open up in my own good time.

So I think I’m safe, huddled in my seat as she parks her Jeep and switches off the engine.

A mistake. I obviously have trouble written all over my face.

“Okay, girl, fess up.” Tessa’s gaze nails me, shrewd and worried. “What happened to you today?”

I shrug and undo my seat belt. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, right.” She sighs. “What did Zane tell you? He’s been in a strange mood lately.”

“It wasn’t Zane.”

“Then who was it?”

Crap
. Fell right into that one. “No one you know.”

She waits when I don’t elaborate, when all I want is to open the car door and escape, run until my legs give out. “Man trouble?” she finally asks. “This Jax you always go on about? The super-secret hot boyfriend?”

I shake my head. “It’s not Jax,
chica
.”

Then she licks her lips and leans back in her seat. “You told me there was a guy once. A boyfriend who left.”

Now I want to bang my head against the car window. I did tell her that once, when she plied me with coffee liqueur one night I was feeling down.
Stupid move, Erin
.

“Tyler,” I whisper.

She frowns. “Like Asher’s brother?”

Oh God
. “Just like Asher’s brother.”

Tessa’s eyes go round. “
He
was your boyfriend? The long-lost brother?”

“You knew he was back?” Did everyone know he’d reappeared but me?

“You mean, now? No, but I knew he was here around Christmas.”

Buried in my routine, busy with Jax who’d been sick, I’d been left out of the welcome party. And with my permanent black mood when it came to the Devlin family, it’s no wonder nobody told me. Besides, the only one who knew about me and Tyler is Asher, and Asher doesn’t owe me anything.

God, he doesn’t owe me anything at all, and why would he tell me Tyler’s back? It’s not as if we have any contact now that he doesn’t crash at the apartment Zane and I share.

I suck in a deep breath. “Tyler and I haven’t seen each other since he left. He appeared today, out of the blue, at Damage Control, and I got a bit of a shock. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” Again that speculative look. “Didn’t you tell me he up and left without a word? That he’s a bastard, and you’re glad he’s gone ’cause you don’t wanna see him ever again?”

I chew on my lower lip, then make myself stop. “Yep. That’s the one.”

“Then why are you so upset now that you saw him?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Uh-huh. Could have fooled me.” Tessa snickers. “Your eyes are red, you know. And I can see some eyeliner smudged around them.”

Shit
. Hurriedly, I wipe my fingers under my eyes. “I thought I’d never see him again. I didn’t even know whether he was alive or dead. He surprised me.”

“And why would you think he was dead?” She leans forward, pale brows knitting. “You said you were together for a year. Did you lie to me?”

“What? No.”

“So you were with this guy for a year, then he left, and you’ve been pining over him for four years now.” She tsked. “Honestly?”

“I haven’t been pining,” I grumble.

“Sure you haven’t. That’s why you won’t go out with any other guy, except this mysterious Jax we never get to meet, and live like a nun.”

“Tessa...”

“Well, listen.” She pops her door open and prepares to step out. “I don’t know much about relationships, so I’m not going to try and give you any advice. But I gotta say it. Even to me, this sounds like serious love.”

***

Serious love.
Whatever
. I’m not in love with Tyler. I’m angry with him—and myself. Love and anger can’t be confused—can they? Now the shock of seeing him is starting to wear off, and with my cold hands wrapped around a tall cup of creamy cappuccino, I can think more clearly.

I don’t expect anything from Tyler—apart from an explanation. Tessa’s right. I’ve hung onto him all these years, and it must be because I never had closure. Like families who have a child gone missing and they keep their room intact for years and years, always hoping to find out what happened and for their child to return.

So I need to talk to him, apologize for the way we parted, get my explanation about why he vanished, let go and live my life. It’d be fair to myself. Fair to
Jax
. The cloud hanging over us both will dissipate, and we’ll move on. Jax knows when I’m sad, when depression drags me down. He has a right to be happy, and it all depends on me.

And Tyler’s explanation
.

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” Tessa pouts over her cup of coffee. “I’ll keep asking, you know, until you tell me what really went down between you two. Did you cheat on him?”

“Tess!” I choke on my cappuccino and put it down to wipe my mouth. “I didn’t.”

“Then
he
did?”

“No.” I consider standing up and leaving, but I don’t have many friends, and Tessa is a nice person. She did last long enough to ask me these questions. I’d be dying of curiosity in her place, and when someone is curious, you need to toss them a bone to worry, so they leave you in peace.

Works with dogs, anyway. No clue whether it works with people.

“Did he do something? Kill someone?”

I choke again.
Damn
. “Are you insane?”

“Why? It’s mysterious and romantic.” Tessa crosses one leg over the other and swings her designer boot. “Handsome young man suspected of murder leaves town to protect his girlfriend.”

Whoa
. “Are you on drugs or something?”

Tessa grins. “Or something.”

I glance around, looking for clues. Tessa’s been dragging me to this cafe at the edge of town for weeks now, and I have no clue why. The coffee’s horrible, plus they don’t have her favorite red velvet cupcakes—or mine, the mocha cupcakes with espresso frosting—and the decor looks as if someone threw paint on the walls with buckets. I never gave it much thought, but Tessa is always hyper when we’re here, and I don’t think it’s the caffeine.

Then I spot a guy sitting a few tables away. Blond head with purple streaks, check. Broad shoulders, check.
Oh God…

I sit back with a snort. “That’s Dylan, isn’t it?”

She makes a face. “So?”

He’s with a blonde, skinny girl in a skirt so short it’s barely visible under her yellow sweater. “Is he the reason we come here every week?”

“What? He’s good eye-candy. A girl can look.”

“But not touch?”

“Stop trying to distract me from questioning you. It’s not working.” She hides a smile behind her cup. “I’ll leave it be for now, but you
will
tell me sooner or later what happened with Tyler.”

“Right.” I glance again at Dylan, and I think of Tyler, his dark eyes, his powerful shoulders... Is he with a girl right now, too? “No pressure.”

“Hey.” She taps the table with a manicured hand and winks. “That’s what friends are for.”

Tyler

These last couple of nights have been rough, and tonight’s no exception. I wake up drenched in cold sweat and sit by the open window in a daze, rubbing my hands up and down my bare arms. Snatches of nightmares fill my head—
darkness, pain and blood
—and after a while, I just can’t take it anymore.

I take a quick shower, dress and stalk out of the building. It’s still quite dark; it’s barely six AM.
Perfect
. The cold bites to the bone, and the street is deserted. Just as well. I don’t wanna see anyone right now. Or later.

Maybe not ever.

It’s been two days since I walked into the tattoo shop and came face to face with Erin. I can’t stop thinking about her, about the meeting, about the way she ran from me. About the shock and anger in her eyes.

About the fact she doesn’t want to see me again. She told me so loud and clear before I left. I don’t know why I still hang on to this slim ray of hope that maybe she didn’t mean those things she said. Why I can’t give up.

I tap the saddle of my bike—one, two three times—and unlock the front and back wheels. The locks take a moment to turn, and I warm them with my hands and fiddle with the combination key. Then I throw the locks into the tail case and pull out my gloves. I leave the helmet inside. Not gonna use it. I need the rush I’ll get without it.

My skin is itchy all over, stretched too tight over my bones. It’s driving me crazy. I want to scratch and tear it, and I jam my hands into the pockets of my jacket and pace up and down the side of the building to get myself under control.

Once the urge passes, I climb onto my bike and rev it up. I don’t know which direction I should take, and I don’t give a flying fuck. All the matters is the speed, the rush of adrenaline.

I shoot off into the dark streets with the occasional lit shop window, turning into brighter avenues, seeing a hint of dawn in the sky. I head out of town, taking the turns close and narrow, the cold wind stinging my face. Numbing my skin. The houses space out, and I turn onto the 51.

I accelerate. The engine roars, vibrations traveling from the bike up my arms and legs. The wind whips my face, lashes at my chest, and I bend forward, bracing. My heart pounds, but it’s a good feeling. My lips pull into a dark grin.

Air gathers in my lungs. I expel it, feeling lighter than I have for days. The heavy feeling lifts off my chest—just like when I saw her in Damage Control—but I force the memory of her wide eyes and stricken face out of my head.

I don’t want to think. I want to be empty and let the surge of exhilaration run through me, cleanse me. A truck is coming from the opposite direction, the headlights blinding, and I drive close to the dividing line, fear tickling my senses.

It brings on another rush of heart-pounding emotion, another wave of teeth-clenching bliss that chases the heaviness away. It’s like an orgasm, ripping through me, making me light-headed with relief.

The day turns brighter by the time I stop the bike, nudge the kickstand into place and finally put on my helmet to avoid frostbite. It doesn’t take long for it in this cold. I set off again.

Water glitters sometimes at the edge of my vision, distracting me. Lakes—Waubesa, Mud Lake, Kegonsa. I cross Stoughton and continue, the road slicing through light farmland and forest, with barns and small detached houses. The fields are white, covered in the remnants of a snowfall from days ago. I pass a couple of B&Bs and finally slow down. I shift on the saddle and suck in a deep breath of frigid air as I stop the bike on the side of the road.

I need to see Erin
.

The thought strikes me out of the blue, sharp as a blade, so urgent it steals my breath. Now I’ve seen her again, her photo won’t do the trick anymore. I need her like I need air, more than that. I have to touch her, and kiss her, and feel her. Wrap myself around her, taste her, mark her...

Fuck
. What’s wrong with me today? I managed to live with her memory alone all this time. The memory of her before the fight, before she sent me way—before I fucked up by letting her down too many times, not showing her how much she meant to me. I cherished her image, kept it deep inside of me like a bright light, and now...

Now it’s not enough, and it’s killing me, because she doesn’t want to see me, and I know it. I fucking know it, and still I can’t let go.

I pull off my helmet and the leather gloves, prop my elbows on the handlebars of my Ducati and shove my fingers into my wind-stiffened hair. What’s happening to me? I thought stopping the drugs, having finally a purpose in my life—to mend things with Ash—would clear my fuzzy mind. Always distracted, stomping blindly through life, fucking girl after girl, women without distinct faces or names. Blundering through my life and hanging on to drugs to keep me sane.