Sweet Affection (Truth Book 3)

by Henderson, Grace

  “No. I’ll see you around, sugar.” He directs at the female who has her hands angrily sitting on her hips.

  “So, you’re fine with me on my own, but you go running to her.”

  “Your car’s parked right there!” He points across the road to a white Ford, and she narrows her eyes at him.

  “You said you were coming back to mine.”

  “Yeah well, plan’s changed.”

  I see recognition in her eyes. She realises things aren’t going the way she planned, and I also see the exact moment that something snaps and she changes course completely.

  “But Tyler, I had our evening all planned out.” She steps up to him and runs her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

  “Come back with me.” She whispers seductively. She’s not even bothering looking at me, she’s too in the zone. His eyelids fall heavy and he leans in, their lips barely touching. She stands up on her tiptoes and lifts her head to try and catch his lips, but he teasingly ducks out the way.

  “Beg.” He whispers. Her dazed look, full of drowsy lust means it takes a few seconds for what he’s saying to register with her. She pulls back slightly, confusion all over her face.

  “W-what?”

  “I said, beg.”

  She lets her arms fall to her sides, and shakes her head.

  “You want me to beg, in front of your little whore. I don’t think so.” She snarls out.

  “Beg. Or don’t. It’s up to you.”

  She growls and shoves at his chest, but she’s so tiny compared to him it has little impact. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He just shrugs like he’s not even that bothered or into her anyway and she lets out another frustrated yell as she crosses the road to her car, cursing to herself. I didn’t expect her to give up so easily.

  He smirks to himself as he turns back round towards me and I just stand there gaping in what feels like an alternate universe where my possibly-maybe-at-some-point brother in law, is the biggest asshole on the planet. His hand comes to my back, and he urges me forward with a chuckle when I try to stand my ground but fail miserably.

  “You are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.” As soon as I get to the car I’ve worked myself up again so I shift my weight onto one foot, and put my hand on my hip, pausing just before I get in to the driver’s seat. When he keeps the clueless, butter would melt because I’m so damn hot look on his face, I try again. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I told you. I don’t spend time with women unless they beg. Too many women, not enough time. I’ve got to narrow it down somehow.”

  What?

  I swear I’m going to punch him in the face. And I had thought James was bad when I first met him. Tyler’s in a whole other league.

  “That’s so…So-”

  “Clever. Ingenious. Practical. I know, I make a lot of sense.”

  He says it seriously, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Get in the car, now. If I’d have spent five more minutes with her, she would have begged. So now you’ve cock-blocked me, I’m ready to go home.”

  “You mean, Tyler Reid, ultimate panty dropper couldn’t get a girl to beg after spending a whole evening with her?”

  He looks at me frowning. “The whole evening? I just met her outside Encore like ten minutes ago. Sweetheart, after a whole evening with me they’re ready to tear their own underwear off just to get closer. Get in the damn car now Laurel!”

  Alright, alright, bossy pants!

  He’s a control freak. I could have guessed that though.

  “I can’t believe you just left her.” I mutter as I turn the engine on and pull away from the kerb. “That was a dick move.”

  “Yeah, it was.” He shrugs. Oh, of course, he doesn’t care. I glare out the windscreen as I manoeuvre the car into the outside lane and speed up. I’m getting really tired now, and I’m ready to climb into bed and try the whole sleeping thing again, but I suppose I should at least attempt at filling the awkward silence.

  “What have you been up to today?”

  He looks at me and considers the question carefully before narrowing his eyes. He’s going to tell me to mind my own business. And that’s fine, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop trying to get to know him.

  “Work.” He mumbles, obviously irritated at the question. “And no. It’s none of your fucking business.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. He gets so frustrated with personal questions. It’s full blown laughter that bends my head over the steering wheel and makes me struggle to breathe.

  “Laurel, shut up and watch the fucking road.” He shouts, exasperated, but there’s a hint of amusement making the corners of his mouth hover.

  Oh, I breathe in slowly trying to get myself under control.

  “What?” He snaps at me, his brows pulled together.

  “You’re such a grouch.” I shake my head. “I’m calling you Oscar.”

  “Oscar?” He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head.

  “Oscar the Grouch? Sesame Street? Fuck me, how have you not watched that? Did you not have a T.V as a child?” I say rhetorically.

  “No.” He responds quietly. I suck in a sharp breath. Oh, Tyler. Why don’t I think before I speak? I really need to work on that.

  He’s not going to want to talk about it, so I wave it off. “Well you didn’t miss much. Just a bunch of Muppets.” I smirk into the dark at my inside joke and tap against the steering wheel, trying to come up with something else to talk about.

  The silence is unexpectedly filled by him. “What did you do today? After you ripped into me, that is.”

  He’s asking me a question? Wow, okay. “Firstly, I ripped into you because you deserved it. And secondly, I went to the store. Took a couple of appointments then called Jess and discussed the new store. Exciting stuff.” I raise my eyebrows and he rubs his hand over his chin as he leans his arm against the door.

  “How’s Jess getting on?” I’m momentarily blindsided that he’s asking another question. And that it’s about Jess. So he does like her? He’s never asked about anyone else before. Maybe he’s just thawing a little more.

  “She’s good. Enjoying city life. She’s only ever lived round here so it’s very different.” His mouth parts slightly, like he wants to ask more but he shuts it firmly, nods his head, and looks out the window.

  The next few minutes of the journey is in silence. Not that I even know what to say to him. His mood changes so much, I never really know what to say. Plus there’s the fact that he won’t answer any personal questions. So what can we even talk about?

  I fetch a glass of water from the kitchen and say goodnight to Tyler, who slinks off to bed quickly, and I can breathe a sigh of relief that the atmosphere is less tense. I absentmindedly close the window in the kitchen as it’s getting chilly and climb the stairs quickly to bed, excited that in less than twenty-four hours James will be back. Maybe we can go out for dinner, we haven’t been out for a while. I close my eyes and dream of dirty blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

  ***

  I jolt up in the bed and my heart beat goes crazy; I hate sleeping alone. Then I realise that Tyler’s here and I feel a little bit calmer. Just as I’m settling back there’s a loud thud, and my heart rate picks up again. Oh God, what if I left a window open? No, I shut the kitchen window. Maybe there was another one I forgot about. What if someone’s trying to break in? What if they’re already in? Tyler’s sleeping, so maybe he won’t hear, or they could have knocked him out easily. I look around the room in the dark trying to think about what’s in here that I could use as a weapon.

  Not much, that’s for sure.

  There is literally nothing around that could even make a mark on someone. I jump out of bed, still in a dazed, sleepy state, and quietly get behind the door in case they open it. They might just think there’s no-one in here.

  Shit, shit, shit. The noise comes again followed by a deep rumble.

  I can’t just stay here and wait to die.


  I won’t.

  Oh my God, I whine in my head.

  I’m gonna die.

  No!

  Fuck that.

  I stomp my foot silently into the carpet and fist my hands, then curse myself for being such a dumbass. But I’m going down with a fight. I grab my stiletto that’s laying on the floor by the bed. I’m going to ram it in their eye. Or up their nose. Or in their balls. That’s gotta delay them whilst I head out the front door.

  Oh no!

  The front door’s locked.

  I search quickly round the room, my keys are definitely in my bag. I send a few thank yous out to the big man for telling me to bring my bag up here as soon as I got back tonight. Once the keys are in my hand, I squeeze them tightly and mentally prepare for the fight of my life. I step forward and put my ear to the door. The noise turns into shouts. Full blown, loud, violent shouts but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

  I’ve got to do this.

  I open the door quietly.

  I can’t alert them to my presence.

  If I’m going to any damage, I have to have the element of surprise.

  There are no lights on. As I tiptoe down the hall, the sounds get more frequent. Hard grunts, furniture banging, and the type of cursing not even I’ve dreamt of saying. It’s coming from Tyler’s room. Is it a nightmare? It can’t be. It’s too loud. I want to run back in my room and dive under the bed. He sounds like he’s in pain. I clench my keys in one hand, and the shoe in the other as I sling open the door and get ready to pound the shoe heel in someone’s eyeball.

  I fumble for the light switch and in a split second the room illuminates while I focus all my power into the arm I’ve raised back. My eyes adjust and search frantically across the room, during which time my brain tries to comprehend what I’m seeing. The whole room’s smashed up and Tyler’s got the lamp in his fierce grip.

  “I’ll fucking kill you!”

  He slams the lamp against the wall. “Don’t touch her! Hit me! Fucking hit me!” I stand there watching for a few more seconds, seeing the shake in his sweat drenched body. The ferocity in his eyes. The white knuckled grip on the lamp. I need to calm him down. Wake him up. Do something but stand and gape. He might actually hurt himself.

  It might be funny if it wasn’t so utterly heart-breaking.

  The sounds he’s making bring the sting to my eyes. He looks like he’s awake. Eyes wide open. Talking. Shouting. But I know better. He’s living a nightmare. He starts crying, howling, and the shoe falls from my fingers, before I rush to his side, still keeping my distance but rubbing my hand over his arm. Gently stroking while I say his name over and over again.

  “Tyler, wake up. It’s me, Laurel. Please wake up.” He doesn’t respond but a low feral grunt sounds from his throat and in a flash his hand is gripping my upper arm, and I can’t help but cry out in pain. His fingers only tighten round me, burning into my skin.

  “Tyler, you’re hurting me. Please, get off. Tyler. Wake up.”

  Without warning his hand pushes me against the wall, trapping me. His breath leaves his lungs in heavy pants.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” He shouts again.

  “Tyler. It’s Laurel. You’re having a nightmare.” I try again, desperately, tears stinging the back of my eyes. Both my arms are pinned back against the wall. The rage in his eyes seems scarier than anything else he’s doing. He pulls my arms and slams me against the wall, then tosses me onto the bed. My back hurts so much, but I scramble upwards on it so I can prepare myself. How can I wake him up? It’s going to have to be the only way I know will have the effect I need. He edges forward, about to pin me down, and I raise my foot straight between his legs, holding my breath that this works otherwise I’m out of ideas.

  He jolts back, his whole body recoiling against the wall while his eyes blink away the sleep quickly, and he readjusts to the land of the awake. My racing heartbeat starts to slow down to its usual level and I clamber off the bed so I’m standing in front of him. Something clicks in his head, and his gaze goes to the bed and back to me several times before I reach my hand out to try and tell him it’s okay.

  “Don’t.” He flinches, panicked and shaking and I pull my hand back, letting it fall to the side.

  “What was I going to do?” He asks, worry and alarm lining all the features of his face. He looks at me, silently begging me to have a different explanation to the one he’s come up with.

  “Nothing. You were just having a nightmare.” I try to reach for him again but he ducks away from me.

  “Fuck, Laurel. How can you say that was nothing?” He shouts. I’ve never heard such desperation in his voice. “I was going to pin you to the fucking bed!”

  “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t know what you were doing.” I shake my head adamant that he doesn’t need to feel bad. I just want to help him. Maybe he should go and see someone. Get some help for the nightmares. The doctor might even prescribe him some sleeping pills or something. He doesn’t need to go through that on his own. I open my mouth to tell him as much, but he holds his hand up and stops me.

  “Don’t you dare say you can help me!” He snaps. “This is so fucked up. I could have hurt you. I could have killed you!” His nervous eyes roam over my body, assessing every inch, and on his way back up he sees the red mark on my left arm.

  “I did hurt you.” He frowns and steps closer, lifting my arm and examining the red band that lines the middle of my bicep. He drops my arm like it burned him and backs away from me. All the time I’ve spent trying to get him to open up, trying to bring him out of himself and just like that, he’s gone again. Far away, if that distant look in his eyes is anything to go by.

  “Shit, I’m so sorry.” He backs up in the room, edging towards the door. “I’m so fucking sorry.” His face has gone dark. Shadowed with repulsion and disgust and I just want to reach out and tell him it’s okay. But it won’t be okay until he faces whatever this is.

  “Don’t let him win Tyler. Don’t let him ruin this.” His eyes meet mine again and I see a scared and vulnerable little boy but I know I’m yet to see how deep it goes.

  “You have no idea. No fucking idea.” He shakes his head, and runs his hand through his hair.

  I step forward, but he steps back. “Tell me then.” I urge quietly. “Help me understand. Was it your dad?”

  His face hardens and I brace myself for the rage that appears in the depths of his eyes. Haunting, fucked up rage that I don’t think I’d ever be able to understand. My dad dying was like a knife to my heart but I have only happy memories to comfort me when I get upset. I have the comfort of knowing that he loved me, and I loved him, and he was the perfect example to me of a good, hard-working, caring man. What would it feel like to have a dad who was the very epitome of the devil? Because only the devil creates the destruction that I see in Tyler’s heart. Suddenly it feels like my life has been roses and sunshine for the past twenty four years. My struggles seem inconsequential and completely irrelevant when I look in the eyes of a scared, and broken man who’s on the verge of having a meltdown.

  “Dad?” He laughs uneasily. “Dad?” He repeats with more even more bitterness and hatred than I’ve ever heard in someone’s voice. I take a quick breath to try and calm my heart that’s pounding against my ribcage, my mind racing with all the things he could be about to tell me but as soon as that distant look comes back, I know he’s gone.

  “That’s a fucking joke!” He spits out and continues to back out the door. He glances at the bed, at my arm, then holds my eyes with his.

  “I’m sorry Laurel.” The sincerity in his words catches my breath in my throat, and my heart breaks for him. It snaps straight down the middle, as tears trail down my cheeks.

  “Don’t cry for me. I’m not worth your tears, abuela. I’m so sorry.” He whispers, and my feet are rooted to the floor as he disappears round the corner of the doorframe. His heavy feet barrel down the stairs, but it isn’t until the front door slams sh
ut that it jolts me into action.

  He’s going outside.

  There’s nothing out there apart from his bike.

  Shit, he’s going to drive after he’s been drinking. I could smell it on him when he stopped me outside the store. That coupled with his fragile state of mind, is not a good mix at all. Where does he think he’s going to go anyway? All of his stuff’s still here. Unless he won’t need it where he’s planning on going.

  Oh my God, I can’t let him do that.

  I fly down the stairs, feet pounding the carpet, not caring that I’m about to go outside wearing next to nothing.

  The cool air wakes me up quickly and I start yelling when I hear the roar of the engine. It rumbles to life and when I look over I see immediately he hasn’t got his helmet on.

  “Tyler,” I scream out, trying to stop him from pulling away. He doesn’t turn around so I carry on running, as fast as my bare feet will let me down the gravel of the front steps.

  “Tyler!” I scream again, words shaking and screeching like I’ve never had to before. I try to summon all the strength I can manage but the tears are back and falling with much more purpose than before.

  I can’t let him do this.

  I run back into the house, grab the keys off the hallway table, then jump in my car. He’s only seconds in front of me. He’s just pulled away and I reverse out James’ driveway as fast as I can and accelerate like a mad woman. Maybe he just needs some time to cool off, but not like this. It’s far too dangerous.

  I drive on automatic while all my attention is focused on the bike just in front of me. So far, he’s in complete control. He’s going way too fast, but it’s controlled. I stop breathing as he edges near a roundabout, and I glance to the right seeing headlights glowing in the dark. He accelerates and my breath is still held as he narrowly misses the car, which beeps its horn like crazy. I have to pause and wait for the car to pass before starting up again and turning round the roundabout.

  I have no idea where he’s going, the directions don’t make any sense to me. It looks like he might just be coming round full circle towards the house again.