Tyler's hand goes to his jaw, and he rubs his stubble in the way he always used to when he was thinking. I guess he's as lost about how to be as I am. "So, you've broken down?"
My eyebrows draw up, and my eyes widen. Is he seriously going to ignore the giant elephant sitting between us and pretend everything is fine?
He rounds my car, opening the driver's-side door and popping the hood before I can reply. I totter in my ridiculous shoes, watching as he ducks his head over my frazzled engine, taking comfort as he always did in the simple mechanics of metal and grease, pushing emotions aside.
"I'm going to have to tow you," Tyler says, dropping the hood so that it clanks noisily back into place.
"Okay."
"Jump into the truck while I hook it up."
I stand for a moment, gawking at this man who, apart from the initial shock of seeing me, seems totally unaffected by my presence. How can he be so cool, calm, and collected when I feel like my skin is going to peel away at the sight of him?
Then I remember it was his decision to leave me. He must have known for a while what he was going to do. Maybe on the last night that we slept together, when I thought that I was feeling real love in his fingertips, in his mind, he was already gone.
Pulling myself together, I turn and stride to the front of his truck, pulling the door open and climbing up with as much grace as I can manage. When the door is closed, I sink into the seat, clutching my purse on my knee like I would cradle a child.
How is this happening? I thought about him, and then he was there—there in all his overwhelmingly gorgeous glory. The years have been good to Tyler. He's grown into his manhood in a way that calls to the primal, animal part of my brain, filling me with self-loathing. There's not a hair on his head that deserves any response from me, let alone a sexual one.
The trouble is that Tyler was always good at setting me on fire. He could make me come with just his dick and his words, and I know from talking to my friends that it's an unusual skill. I reckon I could have come just from looking at his naked body and listening to all of the filthy things he would whisper in my ear.
He's broader and thicker now. The muscles I used to trace with my fingertips while he slept are rounder and stronger. There's more of a swagger to the way he walks and an extra gruffness to his voice. Any boyishness that remained when we were together is long gone.
This man I knew more intimately than I've ever known another human being is a stranger to me, and it devastates me all over again.
I watch in the mirror as he attaches my car to the truck and lifts it onto the flatbed. He's precise in his movements, so we're ready to leave more quickly than I was anticipating. As he rounds the side of the truck, I smooth my hair and fasten my seatbelt, inhaling and holding a deep breath.
When he throws open the door, my heart skitters, and when he hauls himself into the cab next to me, his scent floods me with memories.
Memories I thought I'd left behind but still feel as raw as they did in the past.
Memories that I wish I could forget. Except I can't. They're as etched onto my skin and into my life as deeply as they are in my mind. There's no forgetting Tyler Evans. There never was, and there never will be.
"So…" He turns the key in the ignition, and the radio bursts to life. Except it isn't just the radio. He's playing 70s disco, which he always used to tease me about liking in the past. Our eyes meet through the dark of his glasses, and it's like a bolt of electricity running through me. Then he flicks the music off, puts the truck into gear, and pulls onto the road.
I guess I'm not the only one still thinking about the past.
2
TYLER
Fuck.
The word has been the only thing pounding in my head since I caught sight of the beautiful woman broken down at the side of the road and then realized it was Sandy.
Sandy, the girl I left in bed, kissing her pretty lips while she slept, and never returned to.
I feel the anger radiating from her. Coiled and powerful, I know if she wasn't clutching her purse so tightly, she'd lash out at me. I deserve a slap round the face—even a punch in the mouth. I deserve harsh words and cutting glances. I deserve her hate.
The atmosphere between us crackles like the air before a powerful storm. I don’t know what to say or how to be. I don’t want to make things more awkward between us than they are already. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, and her pretty profile catches at my heart like a hook in a fish's mouth.