“Baggage?” Everly asked, as if the woman in front of her didn’t have the entire discounted luggage section at Dylan’s department store hanging around her neck.
“Hasn’t he told you, honey?” I
rena asked in mock sincerity. “He’s not all that he seems. The bank account might be bigger, but you can’t ever take the Waterbury out of the boy or the history of familial violence. Is your dad out yet or is he still spending time behind bars?”
Everly’s brain stuttered as she tried to process that. Tyler’s dad was in prison? Domestic violence? He’d never said a word. It wasn’t like they were actually boyfriend and girlfriend, but that was some pretty heavy shit to leave out of things.
The vein in Tyler’s temple pulsed. “He’s out.”
“How lovely,” Irena said. “Did you have a nice family reunion?”
Tyler didn’t flinch, but he’d need some serious dental work soon if he didn’t stop grinding his teeth like that.
Everly wasn’t good with a dental drill, but she’d learned a lot about putting punk-ass bitches in their place while growing up. And if Irena needed anything, it was to learn she didn’t get to treat people like that—especially not the ones Everly cared about.
Puffing out her chest, she took a step forward, using the extra inches from her high heels to look down her nose at the ex-fiancée from hell.
“You need to shut your mouth.”
Irena didn’t even blink. “How’s the next line in this movie go? Or you’ll shut it for me?”
“Something like that.” Okay, she’d never actually hit another person in her life, but this woman didn’t know that, and she obviously loved to stereotype everyone who didn’t come from her elite little world.
“Oh, honey.” Irena slathered on the fake pity. “This isn’t Hollywood, it’s Harbor City. And the gutter rats don’t get to take over the city. You may be just fine on the fringes, but neither of you will ever really be a part of it.” She turned her attention back to Tyler, cruelty erasing any bit of beauty the woman had. “Alberto might be humoring you now, but he won’t accept your offer, Tyler. Face it—you’re just not good enough. You never have been and you never will be.” She let out a mean chuckle. “You think I went looking for something better on the night before our wedding because I was horny? Even you aren’t that clueless. I did it because I knew I was worth more than anything you could offer and I was done playing with a Waterbury loser.”
“Why you snobby piece of shit—” Everly’s fingers were curled into a fist before she knew it, but Tyler clamped his hand down on her forearm.
“Good night, Irena,” he said, the gravel in his voice more of a warning than Everly’s posturing.
Then, he began walking past Irena, taking Everly with him. It didn’t make sense, but she went with it. She knew it wasn’t her fight. He wasn’t one of her people, after all. But standing up for Tyler came as natural as breathing. Shit. She really was going to be in trouble soon.
Chapter Twenty-One
Everything inside Tyler was cold enough to give his internal organs freezer burn—just as it should be. Meanwhile, Everly was a fucking wildfire, stewing in silent fury the entire rest of the way home. The side of him that was always observing, always prepping for disaster, took note. A loud, passionate Everly was dangerous, but a silent Everly was deadly—at least for the poor asshole she was pissed off at.
“What in the hell was that?” Everly asked, pacing from one end of bookshelves lining a large wall in his apartment to the other. “How in the world did you not just let loose on her?”
He didn’t break his stride as he headed straight for the fridge and the cold beer inside it. “Because I know where that leads.”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “To putting someone in their place?”
He grabbed two bottles and headed over to where she’d wear a groove into his hardwood floor if she didn’t stop. After twisting off the cap on each beer, he handed her one. She took a sip, looking at him expectantly, and continued pacing. Everly wouldn’t let this go. That wasn’t the type of woman she was.
However, explaining his upbringing was not something he ever did. Not to Sawyer. Not to Frankie or his family. Not to any of the helpful teachers who asked about the dark circles under his eyes—the only marks they could see. By the time he was old enough to realize that he could go for help, the worst of the physical stuff was in the past. He’d gotten bigger and smarter and knew when to keep his fucking mouth shut and plot his future. The fact that he towered over both his parents by the time he was fourteen hadn’t hurt. The two assholes who’d made him hadn’t taught him much, but they imparted one crucial lesson—don’t let anything stand between you and where you want to be.
“Not to putting someone in their place,” he said. “To becoming like my parents.”
Her feet jerked to a stop and she whipped around, the righteous indignation lighting her up from the inside like an avenging angel tempered by concern. “What do you mean?”
“My dad is everything Irena said he was—a worthless asshole who wasn’t above backhanding my mom when he thought she deserved it. In return, it all flowed downhill.” And he had been at the bottom. “I can’t tell you the number of times my mom swung that wooden spoon of hers and swore that I’d grow up to be just like him—just another Waterbury asshole who couldn’t keep his emotions in check.”
So when he’d gotten that scholarship to prep school in Harbor City, he’d promised himself that he’d be more than he was, that he’d leave that combustible house behind him and never look back. And he hadn’t. Ever.
Everly set her beer down in front of his collector’s edition of The Lord of the Rings and crossed over to him, winding her long arms around and snuggling her head into the pocket of his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, but she’s wrong; that’s not you.”
“That’s only because I won’t let it be.” He’d gotten rid of the accent. Changed his wardrobe. Limited connections to his working-class roots. He’d become a new man.
“Is that why this deal with Alberto is so important to you?”