The Fate Series Box Set (Robin and Tyler Book 4)

by Young, Cheyanne

  His jeans are faded, covered in paint and holes, and he’s wearing a white undershirt with a V-neck and black smudges on the side. He probably smells like armpit, but I don’t care.

  “I’m sorry, I—uh,” I say, looking around the room and wishing with all my might that Marcus would hurry up and come inside to relieve me of looking like I’m guilty of breaking and entering. “Marcus let us in.”

  “Cool. I saw him out back when I pulled up.”

  “Oh. Okay. Cool.” God, did I just say that? The three most boring words in the English language? I am the worst conversationalist in the world. Hands down, it’s me. I’m even worse than that mute kid I went to school with who ended up not actually being a mute but faking it because he hated talking to people.

  “So you like the place? It’s not done yet, but depending on when you’re looking to rent I could have it finished soon.”

  “I love it,” I say. “I guess we’d like to move in as soon as possible. The inn is great but sharing a bed with a teenager isn’t.”

  “I was thinking five hundred a month rent, is that acceptable?” Tyler’s face is totally serious, but I keep expecting him to laugh and say just kidding. Rent is two grand. But he doesn’t say any of that, and I’m forced to come up with a reply.

  “Are you joking? That’s really cheap.”

  He shakes his head. “Maybe for Houston, but not for Salt Gap. It’s the going rate.”

  “Wow.” I give another look around the room. For five hundred dollars a month, it’d almost be worth it to commute to Houston from here.

  Tyler wipes his hand on his jeans and holds it out to me. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Don’t you need me to fill out an application, credit check or something?”

  “Nah, I don’t need that. I trust a lady.”

  How can a girl argue with that? I reach out and shake his hand. The very instant our hands touch, a jolt of energy hits my chest and radiates out through my entire body, ending in my fingertips.

  Okay, maybe it’s not that powerful, but I do feel a surge of something flowing through my veins as I shake hands and secure my place to live for the immediate future. Maybe it’s anxiety, or fear, or adrenaline. Or maybe it’s just the feeling of fate.

  Chapter 2

  Marcus stays true to his promise to take us wherever we need to go and shuttles us back to the Inn where we grab our stuff, say goodbye to Sherry, and come back to the rental house. Our rental house. It feels really weird calling it that, since an hour ago I didn’t know it existed. After he helped Miranda carry in her backpack, which was unnecessary help if you ask me, Marcus offered to let us use his truck to buy some furniture, but it’s already mid-afternoon and I have no energy to go shopping.

  The two of them hang out on the front porch for so long that I get bored of standing in the bare living room waiting for her to come back inside. It takes me five minutes of walking around the house with my phone outstretched until I find the best area for cell reception: the bay window in the dinette at the back of the house.

  I order pizza delivery and get enough food for Marcus since I doubt he’ll leave any time soon. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach as I sit on the windowsill and stare at my brightly lit phone screen. Maggie needs to know what happened to Miranda.

  I may not care to speak with my sister, but she needs to know that her kid is safe. I slide my thumb down the phone screen until it lands on Maggie’s number. This isn’t a call about me. I don’t have to say a single thing about how I’ve been or what I’m doing. Deep breaths don’t calm me, no matter how much I may want them to. Maggie will say something bitchy, there’s no doubt about it.

  I make a preemptive eye roll and make the freaking call.

  “Hi Robin,” Maggie answers, somehow making those two words sound condescending, like I’m back in junior high and she caught me padding my bra all over again.

  “Hey,” I sigh. I am no longer in junior high, I remind myself. I’m also no longer her coworker and no longer a resident of the same town. So I can say whatever I want and then hang up the phone, reaping none of the consequences of my actions. Miranda’s playful laugh filters in from outside. Something tells me she doesn’t laugh like that very often these days. I sit on the bay window that overlooks my new backyard, lean back and kick my feet up. “So what’s been up, Maggie?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just checking in,” I say. “I wanted to let you know that Miranda is safe and sound with me, just in case you were wondering.”

  “She’s what?” Her shrill voice has me yank the phone away from my head so my eardrums won’t shatter. A moment later, Maggie’s voice is calm. “Why is she with you?”

  “She showed up asking for help. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Of course you could. She isn’t your problem. Send her away.”

  My teeth grind together until I can’t hold in my thoughts anymore. “What kind of horrible person are you? You kicked your pregnant daughter out of the house at a time when she needed you the most. What the hell is wrong with you? How can you live with yourself?”

  “She is not your problem, Robin. Just send her away.”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that,” I snap.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you already did.”

  I’m not sure I have the capability of taking care of a teenager, much less a pregnant one. I mean, I’m twenty-five and still eat cereal with tiny marshmallows in it. But I know more than to kick a girl like that out on the street, so I can at least be assured that I’m a better aunt than Maggie is a mother.

  The front door opens and I pop off the bay window with a smile, leaving my phone behind me. No need to worry Miranda with my residual look of hatred from being on the phone with her mother. “What was so hilarious out there?” I ask. Marcus closes the door behind them and they stand awkwardly in the living room. “Nothing,” Miranda says. “Why?”

  “I just heard some laughing and wondered why I wasn’t invited to the party.” I nudge her with my elbow as she walks by and she just rolls her eyes. “You could have come out there with us,” she says.

  The doorbell rings and startles everyone with how loud it is. Tyler must have installed a doorbell loud enough to wake up an entire mansion, not just a small two bedroom apartment.

  “Who is that?” Miranda asks, stepping backwards into the kitchen as if she’s looking for a place to hide.

  Marcus pulls open the door. “It’s pizza!”

  “I ordered it,” I explain. “We were all hungry so…” But when I look back at Miranda, she’s not watching me. She’s sitting on the bay window with my cell phone in her hand. The screen is still lit up and displays my recent call list. “You called my mother?” she asks. Her face distorts in pain and betrayal. “How could you do that?”

  “Hey,” I say, taking the phone from her. “I just wanted her to know you were safe.”

  “You said you wouldn’t call her!”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to.”

  The front door closes and Marcus walks in carrying two pizzas and a two liter of soda. He’s temporarily unaware of what’s going on, but that doesn’t last long. “I trusted you!” Miranda snaps. “I trusted you with everything and you lied to me.”

  “Miranda, stop. I didn’t do anything to hurt you. I just told her that you were safe with me. She doesn’t even know where we are.”

  “Where did you say we were?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t say anything. She didn’t ask.”

  This stops Miranda’s tirade. She looks to Marcus who stands there gnawing on his bottom lip as the pizzas make the whole room smell delicious. She sighs. “Thank you for not telling her. Salt Gap is our place and I don’t want her to know about it.”

  I nod and place a finger over my lips. The tension lessens in the room. Everything will be okay.

  I mean…it has to be.

  Chapter 3

  My car is back to normal again. But that’s the only thing that’s normal
about life now. We’ve been in our rental house for three days, each of which Miranda spent at the diner for twelve hours a day. I’ve done a whole lot of shopping for things we need at the closest Target, which is an hour away.

  We have dishes and shower curtains and clothes hangers and a Texas shaped welcome mat at the front door. There is an area rug in the living room and a pitcher of sweet iced tea in the fridge. We have air mattresses in our bedrooms and Miranda has a closet of new clothes, some of which are maternity shirts even though she gagged when I brought them home. I haven’t found a furniture store that will deliver out here yet, and I don’t exactly want to ask Marcus to borrow his truck again, so we don’t have a couch. Miranda and I have taken to dragging our air mattresses into the living room for night time movie marathons since, oh yeah, they don’t get cable TV out here in Salt Gap.

  It’s been a fun three days with my niece. The stress of moving and unpacking is nothing compared to the stress of my old life in Houston. I’m no longer fielding phone calls and driving all over town, shuttling picky home buyers from place to place. I haven’t worn high heels all week and my feet thank me for that every single day. In fact, I’m wearing pink fuzzy house slippers that totally don’t match my black yoga pants and neon yellow tank top. If all goes well, I won’t even change out of this outfit all day.

  It’s eight in the morning and Miranda is getting ready for work. I lean against her door frame and watch her apply her makeup. She twists her hair into a cute bun held together with chopsticks from the Chinese takeout we ordered two nights ago. I keep forgetting she’s pregnant. And we should probably do something about it.

  “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

  “No, why?” she says with a bobby pin dangling out the corner of her mouth.

  “For your pregnancy. It’s pretty important that you get regular checkups and stuff.”

  “Oh.” She removes the pin and slides it on the side of her head to pin back a few stray hairs. “Yeah I guess. But I don’t have insurance and people have babies all the time so it’s probably fine.”

  “I’m making you an appointment today.”

  “But—” she objects.

  I raise an eyebrow that dares her to challenge me. “I’ll put you on my insurance and I’ll pay for it. I don’t care. That’s my relative in your uterus and I won’t let it have subpar medical care.”

  Without a word, Miranda drops the pins in her mouth, stands up and wraps her arms around me. I hug her back. For a long while we just stand here, her arms around me and my hand on the back of her head, pressing her to me in a way I know she needed from her mother. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.

  When she pulls away there are tears running down her cheeks. “I’m scared,” she whispers.

  I shake my head. “We will get through this. I won’t leave you and I will not let you do this alone.” She wipes the tears away from her eyes and I put my arm around her shoulder, making us face the mirror. It’s hard looking at yourself in a shiny piece of glass when you know the person looking back at you has something to be afraid of. “Even if I have to take those stupid Lamaze classes with you, I will.”

  This gets a laugh out of her. It’s funny, how as I stand here both scared for myself and scared for Miranda, a little laughter makes me feel like it really will be okay. Something flickers in the corner of my eye and I turn, half expecting to see Grandpa there, arms folded in front of his chest as he wears his signature smile of success, happy that he’s taught me a valuable lesson. But it must have been a trick of the light because when I turn around, I see nothing but the bare wall.

  The only ob-gyn in the area doesn’t have any open appointments for the next two weeks. The nurse on the phone suggested that I take Miranda to a general physician for an exam if there is nothing medically wrong with her, but I don’t trust any old general physician. She needs the best. And she’ll just have to wait two weeks to get it.

  I hang up the phone and set it on the kitchen counter. Calling a doctor for Miranda was my only task on the yellow to-do list notepad I bought for a dollar and stuck on the refrigerator. I let out a long, embarrassingly loud, groaning sigh even though no one is around to hear it so it’s not really embarrassing. I’m at a total crossroads in my life right now and I haven’t the slightest idea what to do about it.

  Despite how relaxing it is just lounging around all day watching DVDs of my favorite television shows and painting my toenails a different color every day, I know it’ll get old sooner or later. No one can lounge around doing nothing forever.

  I have no job, no friends, no life, and no things on my to-do list to keep me distracted from thinking about it. Not since my freshman year of college when I got mono and had to drop all my classes have I ever been so stuck with nothing to do. It’s nice at first. Then it turns into a nightmare.

  While staring at my to-do list, I cross out call doctor - Miranda and add to it: job, friends, life. There. Now I have a to-do list.

  Chapter 4

  My cell phone rings at an ungodly hour in the morning. I roll over on my air mattress and grab the phone off the floor, yanking it from the charger. It’s a phone number I don’t recognize. Oh, and it’s six in the evening. Not such an ungodly hour after all.

  “Hello?” I ask, not knowing what to expect.

  “Hey there.” It’s way better than anything I could have expected. It’s Tyler.

  “Hey. My rent check’s not late, is it?” I say it in jest, but in reality I’m not even sure what day it is. Every day blurs into the next one when you’re jobless. Although I’m pretty sure we’ve only been here a week.

  “I didn’t call for business.” His voice has a playful tone to it that sends a shiver down my spine. I roll over in bed and close my eyes.

  “Then why did you call?”

  “You want to get a drink tonight? Pop-a-Top?”

  “What is Pop-a-Top?” I ask. I try to sound like I don’t care what it is or what he’s asking, but I can hardly breathe without hyperventilating. Is he asking me out? There’s no way he’s asking me out.

  “It’s the only bar in town that’s decent enough to take a woman. I know I could use a drink and since you don’t know anyone in town, I thought maybe you could come along.”

  “Ah, okay,” I say with my eyes still closed. I’m trying to picture Tyler’s chiseled tan face but all I see is the back of my eyelids. It’s definitely not a date offer, though. Just a feeling-sorry-for-the-new-girl kind of thing. I sit up in bed and rub my eyes in an effort to wake up. I’m not a charity case. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  The other end of the phone is silent for a few seconds. My mouth opens, but I feel kind of stupid asking if he’s still there, so I don’t say anything. With the terrible reception in this town, maybe he isn’t there anymore.

  He clears this throat. “Well…okay then.”

  I swallow and try not to think about how his voice sounded a like a mixture between bitter and disappointed. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It’s not like I’m trying to impress him. I smile so it shows in my voice when I say, “Thanks anyway. I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “You don’t have to drink. You could come just for the scenic view.”

  “There’s scenic views in Salt Gap?” I ask. It sounds sarcastic but I’m being serious.

  He laughs. “Okay maybe that was a lie. Does seeing Big Large’s butt crack when he bends over to play pool count?”

  I know he’s just being friendly and it would probably help me to get out of the house, but I’m not dressed and I don’t know anyone besides Tyler. As much as the hairs on the back of my neck are tingling with the idea of going out with him tonight, I grip the phone tightly to my ear and say, “Thanks for the offer, seriously, but I can’t tonight.”

  “I’d like to know what’s so important that you can’t skip re-watching episodes of The Big Bang Theory to come have some fun on the town.”

  I roll my eyes and glance around my messy bedroom. “Wouldn’t you l
ike to know.”

  Tyler’s voice turns coy. “I’m about to find out.”

  A bright beam of light appears in my bedroom window, scanning like a set of spotlights across my entire room as a car turns onto my street. No—I realize with a cold shock of terror—not onto my street, but into my driveway. I shoot out of bed and grab the first shirt I find, an old Texas A&M T-shirt that’s entirely too big, and throw it on over my sports bra.

  I take one look at my hair in the mirror above my dresser and realize there’s no reason to bother trying to rake my fingers through it—I’ve got one bad case of bed hair.

  Two seconds later the doorbell rings and I look down at my phone to find the screen has gone black because Tyler hung up on me. With my heart thudding in my chest, I tiptoe to the front door (as if that would stop a murderer) and peek through the tiny peephole. Tyler smirks at that exact instant, as if he knew I would be looking through the glass to see his little cocky expression. He lifts his hand and knocks loudly on the door, making me jump.

  With trembling fingers that are more embarrassed than nervous, I unlock the deadbolt and reluctantly pull open the door, allowing him to see me in my full sloth-mode glory.

  “Hey,” he says entirely too cheerfully as he steps inside my door, which is kind of his door since he owns it, and lets himself into my/his living room without asking permission. He shakes his head at the stack of DVDs on the floor next to the television and then turns to face me. He’s wearing dark jeans over boots and a black cotton t-shirt that hugs his chest as if it were woven on his body. God, I had no idea country boys could be this hot.

  I appreciate how he only looks into my eyes and not at my ratty hair, knobby knees and bare feet with chipped glitter toenail polish. “Let’s go.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to go. And I’m not dressed.”