Tyler (Inked Brotherhood 2)

***

I sit on my bike outside Dad’s—Jake Devlin’s—house. I don’t have a key, but I know my window has a trick with the latch. If the window hasn’t been replaced. Or the latch fixed.

Hell, I don’t want to get into that house. That basement. Maybe I don’t wanna face my demons after all.

But I know I have to. That basement has been haunting me for years. I can’t go on living like this. I don’t know if visiting it will change something, but know I have to give it a try.

I step off my bike and push the kickstand into place with my boot. It’s early afternoon. I passed by Damage, and Rafe told me the shop would be closed today to repair a leak that sprang overnight.

So here I am. Clouds move over the sky, casting the world in gray. I pull off my gloves and put them in my pockets, then wipe my hands down my jeans.

Damn. It’s like going back in time. I’m a gangly teenager, hoping Dad won’t be disappointed in me today, won’t throw me suspicious looks and tell me for the millionth time that I can’t be his son, because I’m nothing like him.

Focus, Tyler. This is now. The past is behind.

Clenching and unclenching my hands at my sides, I stride to the window of my old bedroom. I run my fingers over the frame and reach up for the latch.

“You forgot to invite me,” a low male voice says from behind me, making me jump. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

I turn slowly. “Ash?”

His hair’s spiked up with gel, his pale eyes narrowed on me. He lifts a brow, challenging. “So what’s it gonna be? Are we going in or not?”

He’s going in with me? This doesn’t compute. “How did you know I was here?”

He shrugs. “Rafe told me.” He steps closer, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Need to pick up a few things?” Those pale eyes are on me. Asher always knew me too well. When we were little, he most often guessed my thoughts before I said anything.

“I need to… check out a couple of things,” I say, and there’s no hiding from that wolfish gaze.

He nods. “Okay. Let’s go check them out, then.”

The weight lifting off my chest is like the fucking Appalachian Mountains. Call me a coward, but going into that basement alone isn’t at the top of my favorite activities of all time.

I’d trust Ash to have my back anywhere, even in a nightmare. I can hardly believe he’s here.

I open the window and count on Ash to keep watch as I slip into the house. My boots thump on the old carpet, and I straighten, taking it all in.

The narrow bed with the yellow comforter. The shelves with science-fiction books and model motorbikes set against the far wall. Posters of old rock bands. Nothing has changed. It’s exactly as I remember it.

Then the memories slam into me. Of Mom sitting on my bed when I was little, reading me stories. Of Dad checking on me as I played. Ash, a tiny thing, following me around, grabbing my toys.

“Hey, Ty, you okay?” Ash has appeared right next to me, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m good.” My heart is like an animal trapped inside my chest, slamming against my ribs. “Let’s go.”

We step out into the corridor. Dust overlays everything. Big boxes stand in the living room.

Asher unlocks the door to the basement. “Dad always kept this door locked. I can’t remember ever being down there.”

I stop in my tracks. Cold sweat drenches my back.

“Is this a good idea?” Ash asks, his mouth flat. “You don’t look so hot.”

I don’t know. This could be the worst idea I’ve ever had, but at least I’m not alone. “Let’s go already.”

Ash says nothing but opens the door and steps through. I follow, the hairs on my arms rising like antennae. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What a goddamn stupid idea.