“I failed,” he choked. “I don’t fail. But I couldn’t take it anymore…”
“Marriage isn’t some game you try to beat. It’s a work in progress. You got what matters, my precious grandsons. I know you’ll bring ’em up right. And someday, some lucky woman is gonna blow into your life and take you by storm, and see what a wonderful man you are, what beautiful kids you have, and she isn’t gonna want to let you go—”
Was that what Heart had just tried to tell him? That she wanted more?
“Don’t close yourself off, Tyler Jake,” she murmured. “You’ll let the best things in life slip through your fingers if you do.”
No. Never would he let his boys grow close to a woman who had no skin in the game, who’d endanger their lives while chasing her own dreams. Who would leave at the first chance and break their hearts. He’d protect them, come hell or high water. Never would the media figure out that his boys were a famous model’s children, or they’d have more cameras in Seth’s and Stevie’s faces and their tragedy raked through the public mud. They’d have a normal life. Marriage was for chumps. Lesson learned.
*
Present
He rubbed thenapkin now, felt the fibers pill up beneath his fingers and read the fading words:
Rule Number 1
No bringing women home.
Rule Number 2
No girlfriends.
No dating.
Rule Number 3
No marriage. Been there, done that. Don’t want the shirt.
He remembered his mother insisting on watching the kids when Toby took him out for a longneck, or several, despite his worry about her new cancer diagnosis, how she’d whispered angrily “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.” Remembered how Harold Dixon, such a hard man, had seemed downright soft once Seth was in his arms, draping his little hands around Granddad’s neck.
Remembered shooting pool with Toby and laughing for the first time in ages as they wrote out the list on the napkin disintegrating from bottle sweat, wishing Travis was there with them, too, instead of in med school, because he’d missed those idiots, especially when life with Isabella had felt so isolating. Remembered how Toby’d gotten the whole bar to chant “wheels up” instead of bottoms up, to celebrate Izzy’s plane taking off, had flicked condoms at him, telling him to go get a rebound as he’d stood on his seat and announced to everyone that his big bro had just gotten a divorce. Remembered the claps of solidarity from patrons for his newfound freedom while Toby had beamed down at him like he was king of the bar.
Toby had been doing his damnedest to lift his spirits. Somehow, though, the list, written in jest, had given Tyler something to ground himself upon. A path to stay on track. But had he been cheating himself and his kids all this time? Was he protecting them so hard, he was preventing good things from happening? Was he sacrificing himself and losing himself in the process? What was he teaching his boys about women? About relationships? About love? That it was fine for everyone else, but not for them?
He snatched up his keys and hat. Strode out to Blue Rocket and fired up the engine. He didn’t know how he was going to balance his relationship with Heather and his boys’ hearts, but he wanted to try. She’d put herself out there, and he’d recoiled. If Heather wanted more from him, and he wanted more from her, he better make a move. Before she flitted out of his life and he was, once more, left behind.