He followed her to the kitchen. Three boxes sat on the island, five more on the tile. She grabbed a razor and began slicing the first one open. Paper fell to the ground as she unwrapped the first dish. “I’m glad you’re tall. I’d be climbing on the countertops to get to some of these cabinets.”
He took the serving bowl she offered. It was painted blue with four different kinds of flowers in orange, green, yellow and purple, and was by far the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. “I’m guessing you weren’t an art major?”
“I most certainly was.” She leaned her hip against the island and smirked. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”
It looked like a kindergarten craft project. But hey, this wouldn’t be the first piece of art he didn’t understand. “Sure. You, um, have a real talent.”
She burst out laughing and it didn’t take a genius to know she was messing with him. “I made this a little over a year ago. Art was supposed to be therapeutic.” She took the bowl from his hands and studied it, her tone on the edge of agitated, not at him, but the memory. “A way to get in touch with my inner being.”
Heat crawled along his neck. Journey could create mountains of emotion with just a few brush strokes. She said they made her vulnerable, exposed.
“A friend once told me art was personal, almost like a diary.” He pushed her from his head. “Is that why it helped?”
“I don’t know.” Caroline’s forehead wrinkled. “When life spirals out of control, you start to grab onto everything you can. Eventually, you stop spinning, but it’s hard to say what finally grounded you. Was it the many things you experienced during the trial or just the last thing you held onto?”
Captivated, he leaned forward and set his elbows on the counter. “Was art your last thing?”
“Good gracious, no. Look at it, it’s hideous.” Caroline whirled around and opened a cabinet door on the other side of the kitchen. On her tiptoes, she tried to reach the top shelf but couldn’t.
People specialized in shields. Arrogance, wealth, tears, anger. Caroline’s was humor, and he’d respect her cue to back off.
“So why keep it?” He came in behind her, took the bowl from her stretched fingers and easily slid it in place.
She met his eyes, and even though she was a year younger, they seemed saturated with a wisdom he’d yet to find. “Because it reminds me how far I’ve come. And that makes it priceless.”
Chapter 8
Tyler almost hated his efficiency. They had the entire kitchen unpacked in an hour, and were on the last box for the living room.
Caroline made him laugh, a lot. She liked pranks and stupid YouTube videos. She had terrible taste in music, but she’d sing along quietly, and that soft, clear sound made him want to buy the CD just so he could recreate the feeling.
This had to be what normal felt like. What happened when you were lucky enough to have a dad and a mom and a childhood where you actually got to be a child. A life he’d never known.
“I cannot believe how much is finished.” She set her hands on her hips and glanced around the room. “Pizza was not enough of a payment for all you did tonight.” The path that had once been scattered with moving boxes and discarded clothes was now clean and clear. Not quite to April’s psychotic standards, but light-years beyond where they started.
“I told you, it was no big deal. I didn’t have anything going on tonight.” Tyler set another picture frame on her bookshelf. Most of the ones he’d unpacked were filled with motivational quotes or Bible verses instead of photos. In this one, Caroline was smiling next to her older sister, wearing a Texas Tech t-shirt and red foam finger. They didn’t look anything alike to him, but Caroline swore they were exactly the same person in different bodies.
She stuffed the blanket she was folding into a chest in the corner. “Well, I make some mean enchiladas, and my momma always taught me that a good southern girl returns kindness with a home cooked meal.”
“One of the many reason I love living in the South.”
Her phone rang from the counter and Caroline practically skipped over to it. “Hello,” she sang, twisting around like a pirouette. “Oh hey, Beckham.”
Tyler snickered and she threw a pillow his direction.
“No please, don’t apologize. Really, Ty was a great help and I got way more done than I expected to.” She paused. “It’s fine. No. You don’t need to make it up to me.” Another pause. “Yes, I’m sure.” Her foot tapped while she listened. “Okay, you have a good night too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She ended the call, her brows scrunched. “Poor guy. He feels terrible. Please assure him I’m not upset.”
“I will.”
A second later his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Beck: I’m a colossal screw up. Grabbing a six pack and wallowing. See you in ten.
He tucked his phone away. Beck had obviously assumed Tyler was no longer there. “I should probably head out.” Though he didn’t want to. The only thing he had to look forward to at home was a confrontation with his best friend.
“Right.” She bounced to the door, and he laughed for the twentieth time that night. Caroline had more energy than a lithium battery. She opened the door fully, the hallway dim and vacant.
He paused before crossing the threshold, knowing the minute he did, reality would slam back into him. He wanted to ask how she did it—leave everyone she loved and start over in a new place. Instead he said, “Good night, Caroline. It was really nice to meet you.”
“You too, Ty. Thanks again for all your help.”
The door shut behind him and his mood immediately descended, leaving a creeping sense of urgency. Quickening his stride, Tyler walked past the elevators without a glance. News played on the TV over the lobby fireplace; Chester waved goodbye from his reclined chair. A night like a million others and yet he could hardly breathe when he finally pushed through the exit.
The air had turned chilly reflecting the cold front promised for the rest of the week, but he still felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. He rubbed his hands over his flushed skin, hoping it would somehow take the ache away. It didn’t.
Feeling trapped, he pulled out his phone and stared at Mr. Stein’s number. He thought of Caroline’s art piece, of how her life was spinning out of control, yet she kept grabbing for different ways to make it stop. Maybe this was his way. Maybe this final act of acceptance would offer all the answers he’d never been given.
He worked his jaw, still unable to press send. All Mr. Stein needed was a day and time to meet and pick up the stuff. Sending this text should not feel so debilitating.
A car door slammed, pulling him from the haze, and like an apparition, Journey appeared in his line of sight.
“Ty? What are you doing here?” The paint splattered shoes and jeans meant she’d just now come home from work, but the addition of jewelry, and a soft, flowy top meant she’d made a pit stop along the way.
“Nothing. I was just leaving.” He stumbled to his car and pressed his palms against the roof. Head hung, he begged his lungs to function. He was right to fear leaving Caroline’s apartment. Only misery awaited him out here.
He flinched when Journey’s hand touched his back, and yet it was like balm to his soul. He hated himself for that. Hated how much he still missed her.
“I’m so glad you came.” Journey pressed closer, ran fingers over his temple, then down his back until her arms were completely wrapped around him.
The voice in the back of his head—the one he was intimately familiar with—tossed out a thousand warnings. Tell her to go home. Tell her it’s over. Tell her you don’t need her anymore. Hurt her, the way she hurt you. Yet he shifted, leaned his back against the car door, and wove his arms around her waist.
Her lips brushed against his skin and his treacherous fingers curled around her hair, pulling her closer. He couldn’t kiss her now. He shouldn’t even crave to kiss her now. But he did. Part of him knew he always would.
Resigned, he pressed
his head against her neck, her body a perfect fit in his, and let himself pretend for just a little while that they weren’t completely broken.
She hadn’t slept the night before. Not a minute. But now, held in Ty’s arms, she wanted to close her eyes and never wake up again. His spicy cologne, mixed with a trace of hard work and pizza enveloped her. She breathed it in deeply, wishing every moment could be like this one.
Tyler’s arms tightened against her back, his breath a tickle on her neck.
“We can get through anything,” she whispered, and lifted her chin to press a small kiss on his jawline.
He raised his head and the emptiness in his eyes took her back to the months after his mom’s passing when Tyler was physically present but a million miles away.
“Journey, this is so much bigger than what you and Beck did. My family history is gone. Wiped away.” His hold on her loosened, and she felt that same desperation that haunted them the last year. His wall was back, the one he’d taken down just long enough for her to believe they had a fighting chance. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. My head is still too messed up.”
When he went to duck into the car, she lunged, curling her fingers over the doorframe to keep it open. “If you didn’t want to talk to me, then why did you come here?”
“Not for you. In fact, I took great lengths to avoid running into you.”
“I don’t understand.”
He tossed a hand toward the building. “The new girl at the office, Caroline. Beck asked me to help her move.”
“Oh.” She worked to keep the disappointment out of her expression. “Yeah, I remember meeting her at his promotion party. She’s nice.”
He continued to stand there, trapped between the door and the seat.
“Come inside. I’ll get you a drink and we can talk.” She tried to touch his arm, but he jerked away.
“Where were you tonight?”
Her stomach flipped and she focused on the stars. Dim lights dotted the gray sky, most barely visible from the city’s light pollution. “I went to see a friend.” The simple way she said it in no way reflected the tumultuous dinner she’d just sat through with Sean. She’d gone for advice, but the man who used to wear a perpetual smile and throw witty one-liners didn’t exist anymore. So they ate in uncomfortable silence, talking only about their jobs while a huge elephant perched itself in the middle of the table.
“What friend?”
She couldn’t tell him. Not only because she’d promised Sean, but because she couldn’t risk Ty telling April.
When she didn’t respond, he let out a disgusted snort. “Let me guess. Your Car Prince gave you a ride in his chariot.”
“What? No! Why do you keep bringing him up?”
“Because.” He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. “It makes me ill seeing you with someone else. Drives me insane. And yet, I can’t deal with being around you right now, so where does that put me?”
“Right back where we were two days ago,” she shot back. “We had problems then and we do now. The only difference is you no longer want to try and fix them.”
“Fix what?” he yelled. “I don’t even know who I am. My entire identity has been wrapped around this lie.” His body quaked with anger. “Do you have any idea what these last few years have been like for me? Thinking I had no choice but to exist in a family I don’t totally understand? Recognizing how different I am, but longing to be one of them? Trying to fit into a world I was NEVER supposed to belong in?” The volume waned, cracking with emotion. The sound was so heart-wrenching, tears filled her eyes. She wanted so bad to reach out. To comfort him. “Do you even understand how horrifying it is to know my entire life is summed up in one huge what-if statement?”
“No, I don’t, because you never let me understand you. Eight years, Ty, and this is the first time you’ve ever let me inside that pain.”
“Would you have told me? If you knew how much I was hurting, would you have defied Harold Kinder and told me the truth?”
“That man was dangerous and he was only half sane.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know what I saw,” she snapped. “I know how frightened we all were for your safety.”
“You grew up in a Bentwood mansion. You have no idea what life is like for most people.” He slammed his hand against his chest. “What my own life was like.”
“Exactly! You were different when you transferred here. Hard and cruel and I couldn’t stand you. But then you changed. You moved in with the Kinders and slowly the darkness left your eyes. You’d laugh and act like a teenager.” Her lower lip quivered. She was too tired for this. Too tired to make him see her side when their entire relationship rested on him understanding. “Can’t you see what good came from all of this? You were raised by a stable, loving family.”
“That’s not the point.” He exhaled and stared at the street lamp at the corner of the parking lot. “For years, I’ve chased a shadow because it was the only identity I had. But now, I want to know me. Who I am. Where I come from.”
“And why can’t I be a part of that discovery?”
His eyes wandered over her face and the tears she’d been fighting finally spilled over. She knew him. He was retreating, closing himself tight, guarding the parts that made him vulnerable.
“Please understand. I need to figure out my life before I can even begin to comprehend how you fit into it.”
Breath rushed from her body as if she’d been socked in the stomach. She swallowed, determined not to make an even bigger fool of herself. She’d been begging him to love her for years. If he could let one secret end them, then maybe all this time, she’d also been clinging to a lie. “Okay. I guess I need to do the same then too.”
His eyes lingered on hers for only a second before he maneuvered into his car. She moved aside, using every bit of restraint she had to let him drive away.
Chapter 9
Beck had his feet propped on the coffee table and a longneck in his hand when Tyler walked into the house. His legs still shook from his conversation with Journey, and every haunting statement made him want to grab his own six-pack and forget the night ever existed. He’d seen that devastated look in her eyes before—the night her father walked out on her mother. Tyler never anticipated being the one who put it there again.
A blue hue from the TV lit the otherwise dark room while an announcer decked in a three-piece suit speculated on whether a come back was even possible at this point.
“Where have you been?” Beck paused the screen, leaving a guy suspended mid air for a scoring dunk. “I texted you a half hour ago.”
“I was with Journey.” He knew he needed to confront Beck about the secret they’d kept, but he was still too worked up. He didn’t know he was feeling the things he’d said to Journey until they came out. With Beck, he’d have to remain calm and logical, or the guy would get defensive and clam up.
Tyler threw his keys on the kitchen island and did a sweep of the refrigerator contents. Milk, take out boxes, and four bottles of Sam Adams. “Want another one?”
Beck’s massive shoulders hunched forward as he set his empty bottle on the coffee table. “Nah. I’m good.”
Tyler eased into one of the club chairs. “UT has a nice lead. Should be an easy win.”
“If they keep playing this strong, they’ll make the quarter finals for sure.” Beck pressed the remote and a commercial flew across the screen on fast forward. He stopped when the game appeared.
Another minute ticked off the game clock. Another minute of avoiding the inevitable.
“Caroline get settled okay?” Beck finally asked with less remorse than Tyler wanted to hear. His friend was notorious for liking a girl just until the chase was over and then he’d grow restless again.
“Yeah. She’s all set,”
“What did you think of her?”
“She’s unique.” Those words seemed too simple to sum up the girl who’d given him hours of peace. “Totally not wha
t I expected you to gravitate toward, but she’s nice. Too nice, in fact, to be stood up by you.”
“I know. I feel terrible.” Beck’s head dropped back and hit the edge of the couch. “I swear someone must have spit in Rob’s coffee this morning, because he trapped me there for three freaking hours, going over how to fill out the stupid financial reports.” He sat back up, aggressively scratching his head. “I told him I’d done them twice for Eddy, and still the guy clicked through every screen like I’m an imbecile.”
“You can’t keep letting Rob get to you. The guy’s a type A freak. And he likes feeling superior.”
“I know you’re right.” His cheeks puffed and he blew out a long breath. “I swear I’m getting an ulcer.” Beck tossed the remote on the couch, and looked over at Ty for the first time since he’d come in. “You look like hell, by the way. I don’t suppose it has anything to do with the mound of spaghetti in the trash.”
This was one of the hardships with living with Beck. The guy was too perceptive for his own good. Well, ready or not, he was about to get a whole lot more than he bargained for.
“Dinner ended when I spoke to Eric Stein.”
“The probate guy?”
“Yeah. He called to inform me that my grandfather died.” Tyler said the word as if it could slice through Beck’s chest and force him to bleed the truth.
His friend’s face remained emotionless. “I thought your mom was a foster kid.”
“She was. This was my father’s dad. Turns out he’s been living in Elgin all this time.” Tyler watched as the tendons in Beck’s neck tightened.
“No kidding?” he met his stare without a flicker of guilt.
Chaos clawed from his gut into his windpipe, the calm he’d aimed for completely gone. Tyler stood, barely able to keep the verbal assault at bay. At least Journey had told him the truth, on her own volition.
Beck followed him into the kitchen and rested two forearms on the counter while Tyler grabbed bottle number two. “What else did he say?”
Until I Knew Myself (Bentwood Book 1) Page 7
