Deep 6 (Multiple Love)

"What have you got to lose?"

I rub my forehead, the stress of the conversation starting to bring on a headache. "It's not only me that has something to lose," I say. "That's the problem."

There's more talking in the background at Luna’s end, and more shuffling noises. "I've got to go," she says. "I'm sorry. I wish I could say something that would make things easier. I guess you're the only one who can decide what's best. It just seems sad to let love go."

"Thanks, Luna, and good luck on your tour."

"Thanks, Sandy."

When she hangs up, I place the phone on my desk, her words ringing in my ears. It is a terrible thing to let love go, but sometimes, we have to hurt ourselves to do what's best for the people we love. Tyler deserves that from me.

At least, I thought he did.

I thought he was too damaged to deal with his mom, but it seems he's had a change of heart.

Could he be strong enough to hear my secrets and not allow them to cause irreparable damage?

The only way I'll know is to go back but it's been days and I haven't called. They'll be mad as hell.

I miss them all so much. I wish I knew what to do.

After everything that's happened, maybe they won't want me back.

34

GREG

Tyler is fucked.

I don't mean he's sitting around crying or lying in bed depressed.

He did plenty of that after Jake, and I knew how to deal with it, but this, I'm not so sure.

On the outside, he seems fine. He's working. He's speaking to customers and dealing with work issues. I heard him on the phone to Luna last night agreeing to take care of their mom while Luna's on tour. To the untrained eye, he's functioning fine.

But I know Tyler. His eyes are dark, like the bright green of them has been swamped by his internal troubles. His hands are too quick, and his leg jitters when he's sitting. He's wired in a way I've never seen him before, wound tight with the stress of Sandy leaving.

It's because of Tyler that I have no qualms about doing what I'm doing.

Chasing a woman who's walked away isn't my style. If I've treated her right and she doesn't want what I've got to offer, then I'd rather she walked away.

But this isn't just about me.

Tyler needs Sandy.

We all do.

And Sandy needs us too.

I know it. I feel it in a part of my chest that has been quiet for so long.

"I called the school," Able says. "The receptionist said most of the teachers are on vacation, but some of the senior team are around."

"You really think they're going to tell us anything about Sandy? There's got to be a whole lot of privacy regulations, hasn't there."

"I guess I'm hoping that between my charm and your menacing stare, we might get something out of someone. Maybe a colleague?"

"I reckon we're going to leave this place with nothing, but we've got to try," I say.

When we pull into the parking lot, I'm filled with a sense of unease that I can't explain. We stroll toward the large double doors at the front entrance, and I'm glancing from side to side, scanning for trouble. It's just instinct that comes from too many bad experiences, even though we're in a place that's supposed to be safe for kids.

Able doesn't seem to be worried. He walks ahead of me with his eyes fixed on the entrance. With around twenty steps still to go, a woman emerges from the building, struggling to balance a box and push the doors open with her back.

"Here, let me help you," Able says, speeding up into a jog and grabbing the door. The woman who must be in her fifties smiles at him with wide, appreciative eyes.

"Oh, thank you," she says. "I knew this box was too heavy for me, but I didn't want to make two trips."

"That's okay." Able shoots her a panty-melting grin, his blue eyes sparkling in the sunshine. He's pulling out all the stops to charm her. "Actually, you might be able to help us. We're looking for Sandy Dawson. Is she in today?"

The smile drops from the woman's face, and her arms falter. Able is there to grab the box before it falls, and I'm immediately filled with unease. "She's not here," the woman says. She glances back into the school and then around the yard as though she's worried about being overheard. "Could you help me to my car?" She begins to walk to the right without waiting for Able to agree, and we follow closely. She has a large burgundy people carrier. The trunk creaks when it's opened. It needs some lubricant, but I don't have any in the car, or I'd offer to help her out too.