Tyler

by Jo Raven

  “I see,” I eventually say as I enter the parking lot of the bar. “So you decided to pretend you’re poor?”

  She winces. “No, just cool.”

  I park and nudge her with my elbow. “You’re always cool, girl.”

  I finally get a real smile out of her, before she opens her door and jumps out. “Come on, let’s go meet the guys!”

  “We’re early,” I remind her.

  “Then we’ll start drinking without them. You need some liquid courage.”

  Can’t argue with that. I really think I do, but I don’t have a fake ID like her, so I just shrug.

  What am I going to say to Asher? Hey, sorry I never tried to see what was happening to you. Sorry my behavior made you go out in the cold and almost die. Sorry I hated you because your brother left, and I thought you were hiding his location from me. Because you reminded me of him.

  Jesus. Guilt gnaws at my stomach as we enter the bar. Yeah, some liquid courage is definitely in order.

  We make our way to a table at the back. Few customers people the room—the crowd will surely thicken later.

  “How’s Jax? Did you go to see him last weekend?”

  “Yeah.” It feels good not to be lying about him anymore. “He’s a handful.” But the memory makes me laugh. “He’s in a dinosaur phase.”

  “Dinosaur phase?” Tessa’s wide eyes make me laugh harder. “Yeah, and I don’t mean just that he likes dinosaurs. He says he’s Tyrannosaurus Rex and struts about…” I bring my hands to my chest and crook them into claws, then bare my teeth, “like this.”

  Tessa giggles. “Oh my God, that’s so freaking cute! I think Tyler would be so happy if he knew.”

  I sober. “You think?”

  She nods. “He has this sad aura around him. An air of desolation. Like he’s the last person on Earth. Maybe he needs a family.”

  “You think he’d be a good dad?” I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.”

  “Why not? And why wouldn’t he be? Is he mean? Is he violent?”

  “No.” The Tyler I knew had a heart of gold. Now it seems it’s made of lead. “And if he’s not violent? Does that make him good for Jax?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t be.”

  Because he’s marked and because there’s a pain in his eyes that scares me… Not to forget, he ran away. Would he do it again? Would he love Jax like I do?

  “I don’t know.” I rub my hands over my face. “I really don’t know what to do.”

  I want what’s best for Jax. And what’s best for me. I want Tyler to stay here for me, not for Jax. Not because he feels he has to.

  “Hey. Wipe that sad expression off your face.” Tessa leans over and squeezes my arm. “I want to see more photos of Jax. Got any?”

  “Sure.” Successfully distracted, I reach into my purse for my cell, where I must keep like a thousand pics of Jax—when it rings.

  Startled, I grab it and glance at the screen. I connect the call. “Rafe. What’s up?”

  “Erin?” The tension in his voice makes me sit up straight. “Can you come over to Damage?”

  I blink. “What, now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  Crap. “What happened?” Various scenarios play out in my head. Maybe one of the tattoo artists hurt himself with the tattoo gun. There was an armed robbery. Or a fight. Or a—

  “Tyler’s asking for you. Listen… it’s a bit urgent.”

  I shoot to my feet. From the corner of my eye, I catch Tessa rising, too, her eyes wide. “Is he okay?”

  The pause that follows makes my stomach roil. “He’ll be fine,” Rafe finally says. “Just come over, will you? Hurry.”

  “On my way,” I say and start toward the door.

  “Erin, what happened?” Tessa jogs to catch up with me. “What is it?”

  “It’s Tyler.” I hurry toward the car, letting the cold air clear my head. “Something’s wrong.”

  ***

  I fully expect ambulances and police cars when I arrive at Damage, but the street is practically empty. Only one car, a black Mustang, is parked outside the shop. Rafe’s car. Passersby hurry past, talking and laughing, wrapped in their long coats and parkas.

  My heart bangs against my ribs, trying to break free. Fear leaves a sour taste at the back of my tongue.

  “Come on.” Tessa opens her door and jumps out. “Erin?”

  She’s already marching toward the shop, and I’m still frozen behind the wheel. Crap. I get out and rush after her, catching up before she reaches the door. I push it, the chimes ringing maddeningly overhead.

  The scene before me makes no sense. People are sitting on the carpet in front of the reception desk. I recognize Asher, kneeling next to Audrey, and Rafe’s blond head is bowed over someone lying on the floor.

  He leans back as I approach and I see the person lying down is Tyler, his face pale, a dark bruise on his jaw, his lip split. His hand is bandaged. And worst of all, his lips are almost blue.

  Christ. My legs can’t hold me, so I drop to my knees. “Is he alive?”

  “Yes,” Rafe says. “Can’t you hear it?”

  As soon as he says it, I do. A horrible rattling sound comes from Tyler’s mouth, as if he can’t breathe. I reach for him without a second thought. His bandaged hand is pressed to his chest and I place mine over it. His eyes are closed, thick lashes like soot resting on his cheekbones.

  I turn to Rafe, a knot in my throat. “Where are the paramedics? What’s going on?”

  “He asked for you,” Rafe says quietly. “I hope your presence is what he needs. He’ll be fine.”

  “Fine? He can’t breathe!”

  “It’s a panic attack. Talk to him. Calm him down.”

  I stroke silken strands of dark hair off Tyler’s soaked forehead. It’s cold and clammy. “But why is he having an attack? What happened?”

  “He’s going through withdrawal.” He glances at my face and shakes his head. “No, it’s not hard drugs. It’s pills used to combat insomnia and anxiety. He said he threw all his pills away, so he could come back to you and Asher. I don’t know what the trigger was, but Ash pinned him to the floor and maybe that was it…”

  His words wash over me, fading as I lean over Tyler and cup his cheek. “Can you hear me? I’m right here, with you. Just breathe, Tyler. You’ll be okay.”

  His dark eyes open to slits, and he lifts his hand. I clasp it in both of mine. “Erin?”

  God, the hoarseness of his voice brings tears to my eyes. Sucking a sharp breath, I fight to hold them back, because he needs me to be strong and help him, not break down like a child.

  “Breathe,” I whisper. “Inhale, hold it and count to five, then let it out. Can you do that?”

  His hand twitches between my palms, but then he does try. Doesn’t manage the five seconds, but then he tries again, and again. That’s how I remember him: stubborn, determined, never giving up.

  I lift his hand and kiss his fingertips. “You can do it.”

  I count for him as he holds the air in his lungs and then exhales, again and again. The faces of the others have faded. My world has narrowed down to his sweet face, the rise and fall of his chest. He’s breathing more easily now, and the awful blue tinge on his lips is receding.

  His hand is heavy in mine, and I lower it to his chest. He looks up at me, and his eyes widen for a second.

  “Erin,” he whispers, as if he can’t quite believe it.

  Our gazes lock, and he sucks a huge lungful of air before lifting his other hand to my face. It shakes, and his finger pads are rough. They send lightning skittering over my skin, raising goose bumps.

  “Goddammit, Ty, are you okay now?” That’s Asher, whose scowl would be intimidating if not for the worry etched at the corners of his eyes.

  Audrey takes Asher’s hand and puts her arm around his back. “Is he all right now?”

  “Benzo withdrawal is a bitch,” Rafe says, sitting back, leaning ag
ainst the desk. “Sometimes it’s worse than the issue it was meant to treat. The symptoms can be anything from panic attacks, insomnia, dizziness, and seizures to confusion, lack of concentration, loss of appetite and nausea. Damn, it never crossed my mind.”

  “What?” Asher finally tears his gaze from his brother to glance at Rafe. He rubs a hand over his dark, spiky hair. “What are you talking about?”

  “He had all these withdrawal symptoms, and I never connected the dots.”

  “So he’s addicted to these pills?”

  “They are highly addictive. Three months are enough to get your body hooked. He was probably prescribed Valium or Xanax for insomnia and anxiety attacks, and then couldn’t stop. If this Uncle Jerry was an addict, it’s no surprise he got his nephew hooked as well.”

  Tyler makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He’s still struggling to breathe. “I stopped,” he wheezes. “I’m sorry.”

  I cast a questioning look at Rafe—I’m still wary of Asher, as I have no clue as to whether he hates me or not—and he frowns.

  “It’s a long story,” he says. “And not mine to tell.”

  Tyler clenches his jaw, his gaze hard. “You came here,” he rasps. “For me.”

  He really didn’t think I would? “Of course I did.”

  Silence stretches. Rafe shoots me a questioning glance, and I don’t know what to say.

  Then Tyler sucks a shaky breath and turns his face away. “S’okay,” he rasps. “You can tell her.”

  Rafe bows his head until his chin rests on his chest. “Okay.”

  Scooting next to Rafe, I lean my back against the desk and lift Tyler’s dark head onto my lap. I tangle my fingers in his wild hair, and his eyes flutter closed.

  A thought hits me out of the blue—that I’m right where I want to be.

  ***

  Tyler’s story is a nightmare. As Rafe talks, horror fills me, and I can see on his face that he’s horrified, too. Across from us, Asher has bent his head, hiding his expression, but Audrey’s large eyes are dark with anger.

  I’m angry too—at everyone who hurt Tyler. At his asshole of a dad, his passive mom and his dangerously childish uncle who got him hooked on pills instead of taking him to a specialist.

  God, I think for the thousandth time in recent weeks, how lucky I am to have my wonderful family.

  “So, this is it,” Rafe says. “This is all Tyler told us. Hey, man, are you listening?”

  Tyler’s breathing is even and slow, his eyes shut, his face relaxed. He’s asleep. My heart misses a beat. My hand rests on his hair; it tickles my fingers. He’s so gorgeous, his full lips slightly parted, the faint shadow of stubble on his square jaw, his dark brows so straight and intense over his closed eyes.

  I didn’t realize what a miracle it is he made it back here.

  Audrey reaches over to place a hand on my shoulder. It’s comforting, and I do my best to smile at her.

  “He’s exhausted,” she says. “I’m sorry, Erin.”

  “What for?” I whisper, because there are so many things I’m sorry for.

  “For what he’s been through. You love him, don’t you?”

  Not so long ago, I’d deny it. Now I simply nod. That brief moment when I thought he was dead… I was terrified. Still am. I barely got him back, and the thought of losing him scares me shitless.

  Rafe sits up and stretches, then runs his hands through his blond mane. The light catches on the many silver hoops in his ears. “Well, I think it’s time to lock up the shop and go.” He glances at Tyler who is stretched out on the floor, his head still in my lap. “He’ll freeze if he sleeps here tonight. We should take him home.”

  I don’t want to wake him up. He seems peaceful. He feels closer to me than he was those times we got each other off. Listening to him breathe, watching his face unguarded in sleep pierces me deeper.

  All the way to my heart.

  I stroke Tyler’s brow. “Hey. Wake up.”

  He doesn’t stir. Audrey’s right. He’s exhausted. I look up helplessly at Rafe. There’s no way I can lift Tyler on my own. He’s trim but tall and muscled and must be twice my weight.

  “Let’s get you home, buddy.” Rafe bends and slides his arm around Tyler—and on his other side appears Asher, throwing his brother’s arm around his own shoulders and lifting him to his feet.

  Tyler blinks and gives us a dazed look. I get up and grab Tyler’s jacket from behind the desk, then follow the boys as they haul him out of the shop, his feet dragging on the sidewalk. They settle him in Rafe’s black Mustang, in the back seat.

  Tessa waves at me, standing next to my car. “Toss me the keys. I’ll follow you.”

  Relieved, I’m about to do so, when a thought strikes me. “We won’t fit in the car.”

  “Yes, you will,” Asher says, coming toward me, his arm around Audrey’s waist. “We’ll go with Tessa. The way Tyler relaxed just by seeing you…” He shakes his head, his features tight. “Make sure he’s okay, will ya?”

  I gape at him, but as the engine of the Mustang roars to life, I nod and throw Tessa my keys.

  She catches them deftly from the air. “Go be with your boy, now. Shoo.”

  With one last glance at the three of them, I turn and climb into the Mustang next to Tyler. He’s sprawled on the seat, and like in the shop, I settle his dark head in my lap. He barely stirs.

  My heart settles into a gentler rhythm as I brush my fingers through the silky locks and down the strong column of his neck, feeling his pulse beating strong.

  “All right back there?” Rafe asks, his hair a halo against the streetlights outside. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah, if you know where he lives.”

  “It’s not far from here.”

  I bend over Tyler, inhaling his scent of pines and male musk, so familiar and dark and tempting.

  “Erin?” he whispers, rolling his head to look up at me. His heavy-lidded eyes are midnight velvet in the dimness of the car.

  “I’m here.” I swallow past the knot in my throat. “You scared me.”

  The lines of his face tense; his jaw tightens. “Sorry. I can’t remember…”

  “Calling for me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m glad you did. You can talk to me.” I stroke his cheek. “You know that, right?”

  He presses his lips together.

  “If this happens again…” My heart stutters. “Call me. Any time you want, day or night.”

  He reaches up and catches my hand. He watches me intently, his dark eyes full of emotions I can’t name. “You mean it?”

  “God, yes! Yes. Please call me if you need my help.”

  His hand falls to his chest. He sighs, his lashes fluttering on his cheekbones as his eyes close. “I don’t need your help,” he mutters.

  God, he’s so stubborn. “No?”

  “I need you,” he whispers, his voice trailing off as he falls asleep once more.

  ***

  Tyler’s building is old and dirty, the paint peeling in places and cracks going down the side. He isn’t any more lucid when Rafe comes around the side and pulls him out of the car. I scramble out as Asher reaches us and wraps a strong arm around his brother as if he’s been doing this all this life.

  Surreal.

  Audrey and Tessa are standing next to my car, hands shoved in the pockets of their jackets.

  Tessa waves at me. “We’ll wait down here. Don’t want to crowd him.”

  That makes sense, I guess. I follow Rafe and Asher as they drag Tyler into a stinky, dark lobby and stop at the foot of the stairs.

  “Is this normal?” I ask Rafe. “That he’s so out of it?”

  “Happens,” he grunts as he and Asher secure their hold around Tyler and start up the steep steps. “Confusion and disorientation is common. But I think he hasn’t been sleeping much, and he’s lost weight, so his body’s shutting down. He’s been running on fumes. Attacks suck all your energy.”

  “How do you know all t
his?”

  Rafe doesn’t answer, and I hurry after them. We reach the third landing and stop in front of a door with a dark stain in its center and the number 3A.

  Rafe pats Tyler’s pockets and huffs. “Got his jacket? Check for his keys.”

  I fish into the pockets of the heavy leather jacket. “Got them.” I unlock the door and enter Tyler’s apartment.

  Christ. I turn in a circle, checking out the bare, stained walls, the narrow bed, the few books on a shelf, the empty kitchen shelves. No curtains hang on the windows. Tyler’s apartment gives new meaning to cold and lifeless. Not a home at all, just a transit place.

  My stomach clenches at the thought of him leaving again. I turn as Rafe helps Tyler to the bed. Asher stands at the apartment door, arms folded over his chest, his pale eyes distant as if lost in thought.

  Rafe lifts Tyler’s booted feet up and drops them on the mattress. Tyler rolls over, groaning, and throws an arm over his face, muscles bulging under the soft fabric of his shirt. His black hair drapes over the white pillowcase like spun silk.

  “I’m staying,” I say, a bit shocked when the words leave my mouth.

  Rafe lifts a tawny brow and shrugs. “I think he’s gonna be fine.”

  “I’m staying,” I say again, firmly this time.

  Rafe exchanges a quick look with Asher. No need to be a genius to guess they’re wondering if I lost my mind.

  Have I? I’m probably about to put my heart through the shredder once again, but I can’t help it.

  Asher tilts his spiky head at me. “Cool. We’ll talk another time. Come on, Rafe.”

  Not looking forward to that discussion, now any more than before. Still, the change in Asher’s attitude toward his brother tells me he may yet forgive me, too.

  I wait until they leave, closing the door behind them, before I go and lock it. Then I walk back to the bed, rubbing my arms. It’s freaking cold in here. I don’t see a single heater, and Tyler’s lying on top of the covers, still in his shirt, jeans and boots.

  This is more complicated than I thought. Shocker, I know.

  Sitting on the bed, I unzip his biker boots and pull them off his feet. They thump to the bare floor as I consider what to do next. Tyler hasn’t moved, and I don’t even know if he wants me to stay.