Clearly at a loss for words, but too kind to embarrass her, Ty continued to swing them around the dance floor.
“I’m…sorry. I got caught up in the moment.” Her heart pounded furiously.
“It’s okay.” It very much wasn’t okay, or so his distraught expression indicated.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
The song ended and the DJ signed off, promising the band would start in twenty minutes. They walked back to their empty blanket, neither saying a word.
She couldn’t stand it. “Ty, I’m so humiliated. I didn’t mean it to be… romantic. Honestly, it was sort of like kissing a sibling actually. And I don’t think of you as a guy, you know, not in a sexu—”
“Caroline.” His hands gripped her shoulders, then cupped the side of her head until she was forced to look at him. “It’s fine. You keep apologizing and you’re going to give me a complex.”
She wanted to explain to him why she’d done it, that it wasn’t about him or even her. It was a break. A break from two years of captivity.
Ty returned to his earlier sprawled position, only this time, his shoulders were tense, his mouth, tight. He patted the space next to him. “You can sit down.”
She could tell he was trying to recover, trying to process why she’d made such a leap when he’d never once indicated he wanted to go that direction. Oh her stupid impulses. Caroline glanced around, looking for any excuse to flee, even if just for a few minutes. Then she spotted it, the large brick restroom facility only fifty or so yards away.
“I’m going to hit the bathroom really quick before they start.
“Okay.” His relief was palpable.
Good. She’d give him time to process and then they’d go on, forgetting those two seconds ever happened.
She wove her way toward the brick building so consumed with her goal, she completely missed the figure in front of her until it was too late and she’d slammed right into his chest. Firm male hands gripped her arms and her heart plummeted, her body struggling free until they fell away.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” she stammered half expecting to look up and see Jeremiah’s enraged dark eyes.
“I said your name. Twice.”
The fear that had clouded her vision cleared. “Beckham?” So much for Ty’s drop-of-water theory.
“Small world, huh?” His voice held the same detached coolness it had all week, only it felt harsher outside of the office walls. In a suit, he was a division chief, not her boss technically, but a threat to her position if he wanted to be. But now, wearing shorts over surprisingly muscular thighs, he suddenly felt like a red-blooded American male. Hard, cut biceps, a t-shirt that stretched across his chest, flat stomach.
“Small indeed,” said a girl to his left. The one Caroline only now noticed standing there with her mouth pinched. “I’m April. I believe we live in the same building.” Her stare was piercing, like being singed by kryptonite. Though even with the artic chill, Caroline couldn’t help but gawk at her beauty. Long loose waves hung down over her bare shoulders and she wore crisp white shorts and a tank top that hugged every inch of her well-toned, petite frame. “How do you know—”
Beckham’s hand shot out and April jumped.
“Ouch,” she said, rubbing her side. A fierce energy bounced between them as she and Beck engaged in a stare down that could freeze a boiling pot of water. April was the first to concede. “I’m going to get a drink.” Another sneer his way. “Be back in a sec.”
Beckham cleared his throat. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah, I am.” Silence came again, increasing her unease. “It’s a really cool place,” she added just to have something else in the air between them.
“So you’ve been to the art tents?”
“Not yet. Maybe after the concert.”
“Make sure you go.” His gaze flashed that direction. “Journey submitted a piece.”
“Journey?”
His brow rose as if surprised she didn’t recognize the name. “Yeah, you met her at my promotion party. Long, wavy blond hair.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. I didn’t realize she was an artist.”
“She is. A very good one.” He glanced over her head and then back to her. “There’s a viewer’s choice award. It would mean a lot to her if she got some votes. And not just ones from her closest friends.”
“Oh sure. I’ll definitely go by.”
“Good.” Beckham shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, I’m gonna go catch up with April. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yeah, see you Monday.” She closed her eyes a second before finishing her trek to the bathroom. As far as screws up go, today had been an absolute disaster.
Chapter 26
Tyler followed Caroline through the maze of tents, his thoughts back at the concert. The kiss had stunned him completely, not only because it had been so fully unexpected, but also because with it came a deep, throbbing ache.
There was only one person he wanted to kiss. Only one person who fit perfectly in his arms and smelled like honey. The girl who’d loved him through all his vices and only asked him to love her equally in return. The same girl he’d driven away with lashing words because she’d dared to ask the questions he was only now starting to ask.
Everything around him made the torment greater, the feeling of wrongness, stronger. He shouldn’t be here. Not without her.
Tyler glanced around him, ready to find the exit and correct the terrible mistake he’d made. Only in his introspection, he’d lost sight of where they’d been walking. In front of him stood the largest pavilion on site. The one that sheltered the art contest, ranging from kids’ drawings to professionals. The one he’d walked through, year after year with Journey by his side.
His steps faltered. “Where are you going?”
“The art show.” Confusion dotted Caroline’s expression. “Beckham mentioned that Journey submitted a piece. He said we should go see it and do the viewer’s choice thing.”
“What viewer’s choice thing? The submissions are judged by the Creative Arts Society.”
“Oh, well maybe I misunderstood. Wanna still go in and see her painting?”
Tyler eyes snapped to the entrance as he replayed his conversation with Beck that morning. The push for him to go. Beck and April actually agreeing to share the same car. The long hours, short nails and cracked cuticles.
Journey was painting again.
“Yeah. I want to go in.” He led the way this time, his pace no longer leisurely or distracted.
The youth displays were first, each on easels, a few decorated with ribbons showcasing their place in the contest. Tyler didn’t even bother to slow down or look back to see if Caroline was still with him. He passed by seam after seam of joined tent material until finally, the professional paintings appeared. No ribbons on these. If the judges had been by, they hadn’t announced the winners yet.
His steps slowed, anticipation pulsing through every muscle. His gaze darted between the entries as he followed the lanes set up for viewing.
Not hers. Not hers. Not…
Breath seized in his chest. Part of Journey’s talent was in the uniqueness of her style. A mix of impressionism and surrealism. Every one of her art teachers tried to push her one way or the other, but she never moved, staying true to the vision inside.
“Is this hers? It’s incredible. I mean, he’d said she was good, but this is…”
Tyler barely registered Caroline’s voice. “Yeah.”
He stepped closer to the painting, hands trembling as he reached out and brushed fingers against the black silhouette of the couple clinging to each other in the middle. Signs were everywhere telling patrons not to touch, but there was no stopping him. He traced the figure he knew to be her until it shattered into a thousand shards of colorful pieces of glass, some turning into butterflies as they reached the edge of the canvas.
The meaning couldn’t have been more clear.
He’d lost her.
Caroline’s hand touched his back. “Ty, are you okay?”
His vision blurred, threatening to expose the weakest side of himself.
The hand on his back began a slow circle and finally the tears dissipated from his eyes. He took a deep breath and blew it out through rounded lips, just like he would when winded from a long run. But that’s how he felt after today.
Spent. Exhausted. Ruined.
“I’m not feeling so good all of the sudden. I think maybe the turkey leg and the heat.” Only partially a lie. He could throw up at any moment.
Caroline pressed in closer to hold him up. “Let’s go then. Get you some water.” Her voice was laced with concern and care. He’d come to matter to her, that much was easy to see.
The knowledge grounded him, gave him the strength to straighten and wrap an arm around her shoulders. They walked that way back to his car, his arm around her, hers around his waist.
To the outside world, they looked like a solid couple, but inside, he was as fractured as Journey had painted him.
It was past six by the time Tyler unlocked Beck’s door. He’d dropped Caroline off over an hour ago and drove around trying to get his head to clear. The lights were dim inside, and he pushed up the switch bringing them to full power. A mistake, because chaos reigned inside the entrance.
He rescanned the foyer, but the pile of belongings in the corner didn’t disappear. His belongings. Two suitcases, that had been so stuffed, neither zipper was closed completely. His pillow minus Beck’s pillow case. All the sample materials and blueprints for the house were shoved haphazardly into two laundry baskets. Even his shoes were stuffed into a tall plastic trashcan.
In the living room, the back of Beck’s head was visible over the top of the couch.
“What’s going on?” Tyler asked with admirable self-control. His nerves were already frayed from the turmoil at the art show and the last thing he needed was Beck’s dramatics.
When his friend didn’t respond or even move for that matter, he stepped closer, irritation rising with each footfall. “I asked if you wanted me to leave. A simple yes would have sufficed.”
Beck’s face was a stony frown, his hands were clamped together, his shoulders a tight lump. “Okay then, yes, I want you out. Tonight.” He still didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge Tyler in any way but his voice, which was as severe as a chisel through granite.
They’d had their fair share of fights, but never had Beck taken it to this extreme.
The last few weeks flew through his mind in a blur. Beck’s deep knowledge of Journey’s dating life, her going to his promotion party, his anger when he’d caught them together in his house, his comments on how Ty had everything he could want. A beautiful woman who would marry you tomorrow, he’d said.
Tyler’s eyes flickered between Beck and the haphazard pile by the doorway as he tried to focus on his breathing, on maintaining a level tone. “You knew she was painting again, didn’t you? That’s why you sent me to that tent. You wanted me to see her message.” How had he missed it? “You’re in love with her again.”
Beck began to laugh, an eerie one, completely devoid of any true humor. “You are un-freaking-believable. You think this is about Journey?”
Ty couldn’t help the throb of relief, even though it stuttered when Beck finally looked up, his face a mask of emotion, something ferocious and tormented. “That just makes it worse.”
“Makes what worse?”
“Caroline.” His tone held the sharp edge of man barely in control. “I sent you to that tent because I knew, the minute you looked at Journey’s painting, Caroline would see right through whatever game you’re playing with her.”
“I’m not playing any game,” Tyler bit back. It was one thing to pack up his stuff, another all together to question both his integrity and his character.
Beck stood, wiped his hands down his shorts and eyed Tyler like he’d delivered a mortal wound. “Was it revenge? A quick way to hurt Journey and I simultaneously?”
“Do you honestly believe that about me?” he asked in a rush of defensive anger.
“It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve gone after a girl I cared about.”
Tyler stiffened. That one hurt, as was assuredly Beck’s intent. “I asked your permission to date Journey and you gave me your blessing.”
“Well, I didn’t give it this time, did I?”
“Why would you need to?” He ran his hands through his hair, working every muscle to remain calm. “I’m not pursuing Caroline.”
“I saw you kiss her!”
Tyler nearly exploded with murderous frustration. “No. You saw her kiss me!”
Beck whirled around and Tyler barely had time to register being slammed against the wall. “I’ve never withheld anything from you! Never!” He pushed Tyler again, the back of his head pounding the drywall behind him. “Except her.”
If any other man threatened him this way, Tyler would have put him on his knees in one strike. But this was Beck, and so he stood there, taking the abuse with his hands lifted, his eyes locked on his friend’s in an unspoken promise that no matter what he did, Tyler wasn’t going to hit back.
“I’m not going to fight you. Not over a girl.”
Beck shoved off, releasing Ty’s shirt in the process. “This isn’t just about a girl. It’s about the fact that I’ve given you my family, my friends, my home. Freely. Willingly. Because despite the fact you weren’t my blood, I have always considered you my brother.” He walked back over to the coffee table and lifted a manila folder. “And you don’t even recognize it. You don’t even care enough to ask why this particular girl meant so much. Instead, you used the one night I messed up and you did what you always do—take.”
Tyler remained silent, wishing Beck had punched him instead; it would hurt less.
“I’m done giving. I’m done watching you sulk and moan like you’ve been in torture the last ten years.” He tossed the folder back on the table, the contents inside spreading like an open accordion. “Go call your pal Dustin—the brother you never had—and see if he’s got a spare room for you. Maybe then you’ll find whatever the hell it is you’re still looking for.” Beck walked to the edge of the hallway. “You can leave your key on the counter,” he said and disappeared.
Hands shaking, Tyler walked to the coffee table and picked up each scattered sheet. They were all summaries of civil suits filed against Dustin in the last year. All for fraud and all concerning elderly victims. The last sheet included a background check on him. Not only was Dustin Court not born in Lubbock, he’d never even lived there. Tyler scrolled down, hunting for his current mailing address.
His breath stilled. Norman’s home. Dustin’s apparent next victim, and Tyler had handed over the pearls without hesitation.
A rage hovered nearby, so powerful that Tyler hardly recognized it as his own. But he didn’t have the luxury of giving into the feeling. There was too much to be done—pack up his car, find a hotel, call the appraiser and sort through the lies.
Chapter 27
Caroline shot out of bed, the pounding in her nightmares becoming a real sound in the background. Heart hammering, stomach churning, she closed her eyes and spoke the same calming words she had since moving.
It’s just a dream. There’s no threat. You’re safe here.
Her pulse settled, the tingling in her limbs disappeared, but the knocking continued.
She kicked away her down comforter and opened her bedroom door. The knocking was real and loud and not at all welcome. Her eyes barely adjusting to the light, she stomped down her hallway, wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. Only one person ever showed up out of the blue, and she was going to have some very choice words to say about his intrusion this early on a Sunday morning. Then again, she was awake now and hungry, so if he came baring food again, she might just give him a pass.
Lifting on her toes, she checked the peephole, fully expecting
to see Ty’s apologetic face. Only, it wasn’t him. It was the girl Beckham had been with at the art show.
Caroline lowered back to the ground and opened the door only six inches.
“May I help you?” she asked, her throat still having that scratchy, early morning croak to it.
“Good. You’re here.” Her smile was deceptively cheerful. “I’m April, remember? We met yesterday at the art show. I was with Beck. You were with Ty.”
“I remember.” Though Ty hadn’t been around when they met.
“Perfect.” She pushed through the door and somehow made it into Caroline’s condo before she could protest.
“Sure, come right on in,” she deadpanned, closing the door behind her. It was going to take a barrel of coffee to manage this particular intrusion. Her gut was usually spot on and right now it told her this visit was anything but friendly.
April followed her to the kitchen dressed in a formally pressed button-down shirt, gray pencil skirt, and two rows of thin silver necklaces. Her hair was swept up in a French twist and a thin Rolex watch adorned her left wrist. “I thought we should get to know each other better. Maybe grab brunch at the club.”
“At seven thirty in the morning?” Caroline dragged the filter container forward, pulled one out and stuffed it into the pot.
“Seems a reasonable time for breakfast.”
“Is it a reasonable time to knock on a stranger’s door and demand to feed them?” She measured out eight scoops. “Call me paranoid, but your persistence implies a much bigger motive.”
“I’ll concede to that.” The look April tossed her was almost one of respect. “Not many people have the nerve to come right out and say what they mean.”
“Wake them this early on a weekend, and you might be surprised,” she mumbled, pouring a pot of water into the appliance. She hadn’t slept well last night. Or all this week to be truthful. It was why she’d called Ty. The condo was becoming too small and repressive. Now with April in here, it felt down right claustrophobic.
April glanced at each area that wasn’t clean—more than a few because Caroline had been a slacker this week—and crinkled her nose. “Since you’ve been so candid with me. I’ll give you the same courtesy.” Stepping carefully, she made her way to the couch and sat, her bottom almost to the edge. Back straight, she hooked one slim leg over the other. “Though I’m not really known for my gentleness.”
Until I Knew Myself (Bentwood Book 1) Page 18
