Tyler chuckled, steering us toward the dock, and I followed, taking his cue and having a seat next to him at the edge of it. It was easy for him to plop down, but I had to lower down with all the grace of a baby giraffe, maneuvering so I didn’t flash him in the aforementioned short dress.
His feet dangled below him, and he sat his whiskey to the side, leaning back on his palms and looking out at the lake. The moon wasn’t quite as bright tonight, most of it shaded by thick clouds sweeping by. But still, there was a soft light from above, just enough to make the water glitter and shine.
I crossed my legs — more for warmth than to be a lady, and drank more of my whiskey. I was sucking it down a little too quickly, I realized. Still, the walk had woken me up, just like Tyler had said, and I loved the way the liquor burned on the way down.
“Here,” Tyler said, shrugging off his jacket. He draped it over my legs before I could protest, and I was instantly enveloped in warmth as the faint scent of his cologne rode the wind up to my nose.
“Thank you,” I managed, and I sipped my whiskey with my eyes on the lake.
There was something familiar about sitting next to Tyler on that dock. So many years ago, it had been one of our favorite places to hang out. Whether it was the two of us, or me and Morgan, or all three of us, we’d find a reason to traipse down to the lake and skip rocks off the dock, or watch Tyler attempt to fish, or simply hang our feet in the water when it was high enough. In the high heat of summer, we’d jump off the edge, letting the cool water envelop us, or latch a few floats to the end of it and catch some rays.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Tyler said after a long stretch of silence.
I sighed, eyes on my finger as it traced the lip of my glass. “It’s okay. You were right,” I confessed. “I was being prickly.”
“I was pushing you, though. I should have left it alone.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Tyler nodded, and his legs kicked gently below him as he leaned back on his palms again. “I don’t come out here nearly enough anymore,” he mused, reaching for his glass. He took a long sip before he continued. “I swear, somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-six, I entered into a serious love affair with my job, and I’ve neglected everything else, it seems.”
I stiffened a bit at his words, because it was the first time Tyler, The Man, was allowing me to see a little about who he was now that he was no longer Tyler, The Boy.
I knew that Tyler. I knew the cocky, care-free boy who never combed his hair and always smelled like sunscreen from being outside all the time. But the Tyler who went into a stiff, boring office every day? The one who wore suits and talked money with businesses and individuals alike? The one who had a superstar Instagram model girlfriend who his entire family already loved?
I didn’t know that Tyler at all.
“It’s easy to do,” I offered. “Gotta find the balance between work and play. What do you do for fun?”
Tyler laughed. “Fun. What’s that?”
He arched a brow my way, but I just smiled, waiting.
“I don’t know,” he offered. “I love to travel. Azra and I plan trips when we can get time off, or sometimes I’ll fly to join her wherever she has a shoot.”
My stomach did a flip at the sound of her name rolling off his lips, but I ignored it.
“What about when it’s just you?”
A small smile found his lips, his gaze on the water. “I like to light candles, put on a Hamasyan or Wang record, and read.”
Surprise flittered through me. “I didn’t realize you enjoyed listening to piano so much.”
“It’s sort of a new discovery, the past couple of years.” Tyler shrugged. “It’s peaceful. Sometimes I just sit there and listen, close my eyes, let my mind wander.” Something passed over him then. “It takes me back, in a way. Makes me think of simpler days.”
I nodded, taking another long sip from my whiskey glass, which was almost empty now.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“I asked,” I replied simply.
Another quiet moment passed, and then Tyler took a sip of his whiskey, holding the glass between his legs when he was done with a distant smile. “You were fun tonight.”
I cocked a brow. “What do you mean?”
“At the bar. Dancing and singing the way you were… you were fun. You were different.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He chuckled. “I just mean that I feel like you’ve been kind of hostile since you got here. And tonight, you were… lively. Light. Carefree.” His eyes found mine in the shadows. “That’s how I remember you.”
The whiskey was swimming loudly in my brain, mixing with the vodka and tequila and beer and God knows what else was still hanging around in there. I warmed from the inside out, my thoughts fuzzy.
But my stomach dropped at his words, and a cold sweat prickled on my skin.
I threw back the last of my whiskey — which wasn’t much, but still too much for a single sip, and felt more like a shot. Then, I stood.
“I should head back up there.”
Tyler scrambled to his feet, opening his mouth just like he had in the bar, like he had something to say.
But he was silent.
I swallowed, turning, but two steps down the dock and he finally spoke.
“You’re in your head tonight.”
I paused, waiting, but kept my back to him as my pulse kicked up a notch. How could he tell?
“I saw it when you were on the bar, and again when you were sitting at the fire. You’re hurting.”
My head dropped, heart sinking with it as I tried to find my argument.
Then, a gentle touch brushed my elbow, and I zeroed in on the way his fingers wrapped around my arm.
“It’s because of what day it is, isn’t it?”
His words were just a whisper, but they might as well have been a blood-curdling scream for how my heart raced in my chest at the sound of them. I followed the line of his arm up to his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, noting the way it was tense before my eyes found his in the darkness.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, swallowing the sour taste of the words down.
Tyler’s brows tugged together, his lips parting slightly, but then he released his grip on my arm, taking a full step back.
We watched each other for a long moment, and part of me longed to take it back, to tell him he was right, that it was the haunting of June eighth that had me fucked up. I wanted to tell him that it did this to me every year, that every year on this day I thought back to the last time I saw my mother, to the day she abandoned me for good.
And that I thought back to him, too — to that day in his room, to the way his skin was hot and sticky with sunscreen, to the way his lips were warm on mine, to the way it felt to be touched by him.
But what was the point?
He hadn’t been able to heal the wound my mother left. No one could do that but me. And when it came to what happened between me and him, it was even more pointless to bring up.
Because he’d taken it all back.
He’d said it was a mistake, that he was sorry, that he never meant for it to happen.
A day that had killed me and also brought me to life within hours meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to him — that he’d comforted me, touched me, kissed me, ruined me. It meant nothing to him that he’d made me feel more loved than I ever had in my entire life right after I’d convinced myself love wasn’t real, and then he’d ripped it away the very next day, taking everything I cherished along with it.
Tyler Wagner had scarred me.
And I didn’t need to remind myself of that anymore than I already did.
I tore my eyes from his, and a soft sort of awareness swept over me the farther away I got. Jacob — my boyfriend — knew everything about me, including everything about how my mother left and what it did to me.
Wh
y hadn’t he asked if I was okay this morning when we talked?
Why did Tyler remember the day, but my own boyfriend didn’t?
I ignored the stupid questions — because that was exactly what they were: stupid. Jacob was the sweetest, most caring man I’d ever known. So what if he didn’t remember the exact day. Who would?
I didn’t let myself answer that question, either, wrapping my hands around my empty glass as I made my way down the dock.
When I hit the end of it, Tyler murmured something behind me, something I couldn’t quite make out against the breeze and the soft chirps of insects surrounding us.
Something that sounded a lot like It hurts me, too.
I didn’t get up at five the next morning to go for my run.
Instead, I peeled myself out of my warm sheets somewhere around eight, and did more of a walk slash jog for half the distance I usually ran. Still, I broke a sweat easily enough — even if half of it seemed to be the booze from the night before — and though it was just slightly north of torture, the movement helped me feel better.
I headed straight for the kitchen when I got back to the Wagner’s, chest covered with a sheen of sweat as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water. The few cars that had still been in the front yard when I left were gone now, so I imagined it was just me and the Wagners once again.
I chugged the first glass of water quickly before refilling it, and then I turned, finding Robert and Tyler sitting at the bar.
Both of them were holding a newspaper.
But one of them was staring at me over the top of it.
“Morning, sunshine,” Mr. Wagner said, smiling as he flipped the page. “How ya feeling this morning?”
“Rough,” I said, and as soon as the word left my mouth, my eyes shot open. “Oh, God.”
My hand flew to my throat, heart quickening with panic at the sound of my hoarse voice.
“No,” I said, trying to clear my throat and the hoarseness along with it. “No, no, no.”
“Too much karaoke, huh?” Robert teased, but my eyes met Tyler’s, who was watching me with genuine concern as I freaked out.
It probably was the karaoke, singing at the top of my lungs on stage and screaming along with anyone else singing when I was in the crowd. Plus, I’d drank — a lot — and sat around a smoky fire all night.
I closed my eyes on a sigh, pressing my hand to my forehead. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry, your voice will be back to new in a few days, I’m sure,” Robert promised.
“I don’t have a few days,” I whined, letting my hand fall to my thigh. “I’m supposed to record a podcast tomorrow.”
“Can you postpone it?”
I scoffed. “I was lucky enough to even be invited to guest speak at all.” I shook my head. “They run a tight ship, there’s no way they’d be able to reschedule me. If I don’t make this recording…”
“They’ll fill your spot,” Tyler finished for me.
I grimaced, burying my face in my hands.
“You need to rest it,” Tyler said, laying his newspaper down. “And drink a lot of water.” He was out of his chair in the next second. “I think Mom has a humidifier in the closet upstairs, let me grab it.”
“I can’t rest today,” I pointed out as he made his way out of the kitchen. He didn’t stop to listen though, and I threw a thumb over my shoulder at him, looking to his father, instead. “Does he not realize I’m the maid of honor in a wedding that’s going down in twelve days?”
Robert smirked, licking his thumb before he turned the page again. And before he could answer, his daughter blew into the kitchen, grabbing me in her hands and giving me a once over with concerned eyes.
“I ran into Tyler on the way down. He said you’re sick?”
I frowned. “I’m not sick.” But I winced at how badly it hurt to speak, and Morgan’s eyes widened with worry. “I’m fine,” I tried to promise her, but she shook her head, snatching my half-empty glass of water from my hands and refilling it with water.
“Sick or not, you can’t record a podcast with a voice like that.”
I nodded, taking the freshly filled glass from her. “I know. But, we have so much to do today. I can’t just—”
“You’re going to rest,” Tyler said, cutting me off as he rounded back into the kitchen with a humidifier in tow. “We’ll set you up in the theater room and you can watch movies or TV shows or read or work or whatever you want, but you need water, and moist air, and rest.”
“Tyler, I can’t just—”
“And to stop talking,” he added pointedly.
I glared at him, but before I could argue further, Morgan sighed, grabbing my hand in hers. “He’s right. Look, Oliver and I need to book our honeymoon today, anyway. And we can do the guest housing and ring insurance and meet with the officiant. Boring stuff.”
“But we were supposed to meet the planner on the Cape and go over set up.”
She waved me off. “Oliver and I can handle it. Seriously. You rest, record your podcast tomorrow, and then we can pick up business as usual. You’re not missing anything today.”
I pouted. “But I was going to get lobster bisque for lunch.”
At that, Morgan chuckled, pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll bring some back for you. Promise.” As soon as she pulled back, she pointed at her brother. “What are you doing today?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Whatever you order me to, I’d wager.”
“You’re not working?,” she asked.
“I don’t have to. I took time off for all this,” he explained, waving his hand around us like the wedding was a living thing in the air. “I’ve been working on a few things when we have down time, but I figured you’d need me at full attention.”
Morgan’s face was tender when she put her hands over her chest. “Aw, big brother. You love me.”
“More like I’m scared of you.”
I chuckled.
“Well, either way, you should hang out with Jaz today. I don’t want her stuck in our old theater room by herself all day long.”
I blanched, Tyler and I connecting gazes before we both looked at his sister. “Uh, Morgan, it’s really okay. I’ll read or watch movies or something. And you’ll be back for dinner anyway, right?”
“We’re doing dinner on the Cape,” she said with an apologetic frown. “Mom and Dad are coming with us, too. To the venue. And with it being such a long drive each way, and traffic so bad, we figured we might as well do dinner and head back after rush hour.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Of course. Well, either way, I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t mind.”
I snapped my attention to Tyler, who was watching me in a curious way — like he only just realized what he’d said.
“I do have some work I could catch up on,” he finished quickly, grabbing the back of his neck. “So, we could just hang out in the same room and be silent together.”
“Sounds thrilling,” Morgan teased, patting her brother’s chest. “Maybe you could at least watch a movie together or something. But yes, that would make me feel so much better if you’re here with her. As long as you don’t mind?”
Tyler looked at me. “I don’t mind,” he said again.
I swallowed, which stung just as much as talking did, but I knew there was no sense in arguing. Morgan’s mind was already made up, and she kissed my cheek, ushering the two of us off while she went over the day’s plans with her dad.
And I followed Tyler up the stairs, humidifier in tow, with those three little words dancing in my head.
I realized very quickly that I did not like sitting still.
I should have known this about myself at this point, judging by the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent a day sitting in front of a screen or lounging on a couch. Every minute of every day was planned and scheduled out. I was either working, running, socializing, or traveling. There was no time for television.
At first, it was kind of ni
ce.
In fact, it was relaxing — something I wasn’t familiar with.
I started out watching 10 Things I Hate About You, one of my favorite movies as a kid. I was only four when it came out, so I didn’t watch it until years later. But I remembered that first time so vividly, when I watched Heath Ledger on the screen and felt weird things happening in my stomach. And every time I watched it now as an adult, I smiled, remembering the innocence of feeling that first celebrity crush.
Afterward, I transitioned into watching a few episodes of a home makeover show. I found myself dreaming of a future place in California, and that led me to Pinterest, which then eventually transitioned me into working, as I always did any time I was on my computer. And of course, Morgan was texting me updates all day long, and Jacob and I were playing a Scrabble-like game on an app and texting when he had a break from work. He was worried about me, but I assured him I was fine. Still, I did need to rest my voice, which meant no talking on the phone or video chatting, so we stuck to texts.
By the time evening started falling over the lake outside the theater windows, I had outlined my next four episodes of And All That Jazz, edited the two episodes I needed to schedule for the following weeks, brainstormed a new social media initiative for engagement, and established three new levels of loyalty on Patreon.
I was also beyond bored and antsy, to the point where I didn’t know how much longer I could sit in that room before I would start rocking in a corner.
The theater room was mostly dark, save for the window we’d had open all day long. It had blackout curtains for when you wanted to eliminate the glare on the giant television screen, but we hadn’t pulled them — mostly because I’d mentioned that I’d go crazy without any sunlight getting in the room. There were plush, black leather reclining chairs in lines of three, twelve total, all leading up a slight incline to the back wall.
Tyler and I sat in the second row, with a chair between us, and we hadn’t said a word to each other all day.
When I gave a long, dramatic huff and closed my laptop, scrubbing my hands over my eyes, I opened them to find a smirking Tyler staring at me.
Make Me Hate You: A Best Friend's Brother Romance Page 7
