Tyler (Inked Brotherhood 2)

ane strides between the booths and grabs my hand. “Come here.” He steers me to the orange armchairs and pushes me down to sit. “You okay? Want a glass of water?”

“I’m okay,” I say automatically, sinking into the chair, my hands clawing at the armrests. “Did you...?” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Did you know he was back? Did you see...?”

I can’t formulate any coherent questions. This is all too much. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment, no matter how often I fantasized about it.

Zane squats at my feet and places his hands on my knees. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I have. Was Tyler here?”

He nods.

“You knew he was in town?”

“I saw him right after Christmas. He came when Ash was in the hospital, and then again for his dad’s funeral a few weeks later. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“It was years ago.” More words want to spill out, but I clamp my mouth shut.

“Something I should know, something he did to you? Do I need to go and bust his face?”

Zane means it, I know. He’s like my older brother, though he’s a year younger than me. He’d do anything for his friends, his adopted family, and somehow I’ve made it into that circle, despite my regular absences and occasional dark moods.

Despite the fact he thinks I should have treated Asher better than I have. Despite the fact I know he’s right.

“Nothing to know,” I mutter and my cheeks warm.

“I know he left four years ago,” Zane says, his eyes somber. “Ash had no idea where Tyler went until Christmas, when their Dad died, and Tyler came to visit.”

Oh crap. Ash told me the truth all along, and I didn’t believe him. My whole face is burning now. I took out so much of my anger at Tyler on Asher. I have to say something.

“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.