“Still, you did a great job paraphrasing.” I squeezed the keys in my hand, feeling speechless. “Thank you.”
“I’m just here to be honest. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, and the only cake you should want to eat is—”
“You were doing so well.”
Travis managed to laugh. “We’re not about to hug or some shit, are we?”
Closing my eyes, I really laughed. He couldn’t be too serious for long. “Hell no.”
I had a way out, an easy way out, yet still, it didn’t sit right with me. Not at all.
Accepting Travis’s car was simple, but even if it were the way through, another plan seemed to come to mind.
If I was going to bury my past, it was time to come to terms with everything and truly move forward. One way or another.
38 | Nandy
With the weight of my drama with Tyson crushing me, I went to Erica’s to cope.
Coming to Erica felt just as natural as Shayne coming to my family with her angst. Erica was probably the calmest of my friends, and having her to talk to about Tyson felt reassuring.
When it came to my dilemma with Tyson, I felt left out. I couldn’t believe he was willing to go back to the city that had nearly killed him.
I envied other girls. My final year of school should’ve been a big cliché, about stressing over what college I got into and all the traditional events. About finally deciding to sleep with the boy I liked, or not. About a first job or internship. Instead, I was stressing about Lindenwood and the hold it had over Tyson.
I thought of Tyson’s friends and how they were all different from him, but the same in a sense. Khalil, with his tall height, dark skin, and hair braided in sections, was our age, but seemed so much younger. He was a follower, going along with the likes of Money and Pretty, two guys who seemed content with material things like money, weed, and sex. Read was hard to interpret; he was quiet and didn’t convey much about his inner thinking. Prophet was their chosen leader, and I could tell he genuinely wanted more for Tyson, and even Khalil. He accepted that Money and Pretty were going to live and die by Lindenwood’s honor and that Read could go either way. But Tyson and Khalil, he wanted more for them, a way out.
Tyson had gotten his way out, and yet he still had one foot back home.
I’d fallen in love with a criminal. I should’ve expected this to come with the territory. If my life were one of those rap videos, perhaps I’d toughen up and go with him, have his back and support him. That true Ride or Die persona. But I’d grown up in Pacific Hills and followed the rules all my life; this decadent way of living wasn’t something I knew or could understand.
Erica frowned, noting my silence at the foot of her bed. “You and Trice are fighting already?”
We’d been up in her room, geared to watch a movie or two, but my mind was elsewhere, staring ahead at her TV absentmindedly.
“I’m not from his world, and I can’t understand or hang,” I told her.
I’d told myself I wasn’t to blame for Tyson’s actions, but the girl inside me who was in love with him...she felt every bit pessimistic.
“I think you not being from his world is what drew him to you. Don’t get it twisted, Nan. You probably mean a lot to him. Ten years is a long-ass time to be carrying a torch for someone.”
“It’s different than that. He barely lets me in, and when he did, I can’t just agree with this choice he’s making. That’s why I came here, I couldn’t deal with it.”
“I know it’s hard and confusing, but try to meet Trice halfway to hear him out and express your feelings. Who knows, it might sway him, whatever he’s dealing with.”
Tyson had seemed so adamant about going through with his illegal activity. Maybe it was pointless to try to talk to him and steer his choice. Maybe it was pointless to try to be with him.
I loved him a great deal, but I couldn’t condone his choices if they were going to be risky.
Everything had seemed simple when we were kids.
But it wasn’t.
At least not for Tyson. Things had always been hard for him. This was just another wrench thrown into his life, and it was easy for him to decide what to do.
Maybe Erica was right, maybe talking to him could change his decision.
If only.
* * *
On the way home, I stopped at the local supermarket to pick up some groceries. I wasn’t a cook, but the idea of making Tyson dinner—or at least trying to—put me at ease about the idea of talking to him again.
At home, I looked up several recipes for baked chicken and settled on one that required the chicken breasts to be pan-roasted and seasoned with a garlic rosemary rub. We had a meat thermometer, and I felt safe with the idea of roasting the chicken so long as it browned and came to temp.
With my phone in my hoodie pocket, I plugged in my earphones and jammed out to Mariah Carey as I picked out some sides.
Cooking wasn’t so bad, I discovered as I wiggled my hips around the kitchen and prepared each portion.
Despite the sad breakup tunes, upbeat Mariah got the job done as I finished cooking about forty minutes later.
I was pulling the rolls from the oven when I looked over my shoulder to check the time. Tyson was standing in the doorway, watching me.
Quickly I ripped the earphones from my ears and stood back against the stove. “How long have you been there?”
Tyson shrugged as he came over. “Long enough.” He peered at the food behind me. “This brings a whole new meaning to the term shake and bake.” His grin caused my heart to stutter. “Smells good. What’s for dessert?”
Feeling playful, I said, “I was thinking I’d put a bow on myself and you’d have me.”
A hungry look passed through Tyson’s eyes as he remained silent.
“Kidding, of course,” I quickly added.
Tyson lifted a brow and came even closer. “I’m not.”
All of my insides melted into a pathetic puddle of need. “I... I made you dinner, Tyson.”
He blinked. “Really, for me?”
“Yes.” I nodded, but then it hit me. “Shit.”
He became concerned. “What?”
“I don’t even know what you like. It’s probably all wrong.”
Tyson wrapped his arms around me. “I like baked chicken most. And you made mashed potatoes and broccoli, even rolls, you’re good.”
“The potatoes are instant,” I confessed.
Tyson didn’t care. “Truth be told, I like real potatoes, but instant’s just as good. No girl’s ever cooked for me before, not that there’s been many, but still, this means a lot.”
Just as I was standing on my toes to kiss him, my father came into the room.
Tyson barely made an effort to move away from me. The sound of “Touch My Body” coming from my dangling earphones didn’t help much, either.
I moved more away from Tyson as my father stood, assessing us. It was obvious we hadn’t been acting like “pretend siblings” or whatever he wanted of us.
“Dad, I made dinner,” I came out and said.
He held up the bag I realized was in his hand. “I grabbed Italian.”
“Oh.”
Tyson’s hand found its way to my lower back as he gained my attention. “Do you mind if we take our portion somewhere private? I think we need to talk.” I managed to nod before he faced my father. “If that’s all right with you?”
My father was oddly calm. “Sure, okay. After you get back I think it’d be best if you packed your things and—”
“Dad!” I went and stood in front of Tyson.
My father noticed the gesture and appeared amused. “Like I was saying, I think it’d be best from here on out if Trice gathered his belongings and moved into the pool house. It’s obvious you don’t intend to stop seeing each other, and
at least that way he’s not technically under the same roof.”
Speechless, I stared at my father.
The pool house was vacant, but it was a luxury. On the main level, it housed a kitchen and living room, and on the second floor was the master suite. Moving Tyson into the pool house wasn’t punishment at all, as he would now have his own private space.
“Understand?” my father asked of us.
“Yes,” Tyson answered. “Thank you, Parker.”
Tyson touched my arm and said he’d go and wait in the car, sensing my father wanted to talk.
I went about preparing a picnic basket for us to take to the model home. There was a mock dining room set up, so it served us well to go there for privacy.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” my father said as he came over to the island.
“I don’t want to get hurt,” I said.
He touched me. “He’s not the same person he was before. He came here angry and cold, and now that the summer’s almost over, here we are.”
“Travis and Shayne are to thank for that. They’ve been his rock.”
“And you?”
“I just fell in love with him.” I cursed myself for how I’d spent the beginning of the summer treating Tyson so harshly. But then, had I taken the time to get to know him sooner, I would’ve only fallen in love with him earlier.
My father massaged my arm. “Be careful, Nandy. Not only for you, but for him as well. He’s still got a lot of healing to go through. Your mother and I were thinking therapy should be in his future.”
I gathered my picnic basket. “I think that’s a great idea. He has a lot of survivor’s guilt he needs to work through.”
My father offered me a quick hug as I prepared to leave.
Tyson was waiting patiently for me in his car. I set the picnic basket in the back seat before joining him up front.
“Do you think your curfew still applies?” he asked as he pulled out of the driveway and headed off for the model home.
The question made me stop and think. Did it still apply now?
“We’ll see,” I replied.
I was just happy that my father was coming around. He knew how we felt and no longer wanted to get in the way.
At the model home, Tyson took my free hand as we ascended the front walk together. The place didn’t seem like my haven anymore; it felt like ours. Something told me Tyson felt that, too. He flashed me a smile as he unlocked the front door and led us inside.
The topic of conversation would be heavy for dinner, but at least Tyson was ready to let me in.
I set up plates as Tyson went around the table, removing the designer plates on display. The day the Pacific Hills Agency found out about the model home and began putting it to use would destroy me. I liked having a second home, and I especially liked sharing it with Tyson.
Tyson came up behind me and kissed my neck. “Damn, you really didn’t make any dessert.”
“Easy, we haven’t talked yet,” I told him.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Tyson came out and said.
The news lifted my spirits. “So you’re not going now? Great. See, wasn’t it easy?”
Tyson didn’t return my joy. “That’s not what I meant. I’m still going. I have to.”
Suddenly I lost my appetite as I set down the Tupperware and backed away from him.
Erica had said I should hear him out, but it wasn’t so simple. He was going off to do something illegal, and I couldn’t stand by that at all.
“Just...forget it, then.” I pushed past him and left the room, going toward the staircase.
With all my angst, I went into the master bedroom to do the one thing that could possibly make me feel better.
I made a fort.
I gathered all the pillows and made a little pallet on the floor, and then took the sheets and hung them up on the highest furniture before taking the comforter and lying down inside. If only the fort could hide me from my troubles, maybe things could truly be all right.
Lying there, I didn’t exactly feel much better, not with thoughts of Tyson getting himself arrested swarming around in my head. I cuddled a throw pillow to my chest, wishing things didn’t have to be the way that they were.
Time ticked by, and I noticed Tyson’s absence. I wondered if he’d begun eating without me. It wasn’t like he could do anything else to upset me.
Oh, well.
“Really?” I heard his voice outside the fort, and a moment later he was crawling in and joining me. He sat down beside me, appearing crestfallen.
Adorable or not, I just could not consent to his mission.
Tyson sorta frowned as he cleared his throat. “Growing up, I had it pretty nice. My dad made good money, but he worked a lot, and when he came home, the littlest things would set him off. My mom did her best to raise me as well as him. I’m not like my friends too much in that sense—maybe only Prophet and Khalil can relate to my situation with our upbringing. Or maybe just Khalil. He came from a humble background and some money, too.
“But anyway, after it got worse and I stopped coming to see you, I started hanging around Prophet and forming a plan to get money to save my mom. We were a group of thieves, Nandy. We went from city to city stealing cars and having them chopped uptown by this mechanic. It was the best way I could get quick and easy money, and enough to truly save.”
“That’s what they had you do last month?” I came out and asked. Stealing cars was wrong, no matter the reason, but having that be the revelation wasn’t too much of a big deal. I’d thought it was something worse, something extreme, like drug trafficking.
“Yeah.” Tyson nodded. “Khalil got hurt, and I had to do his run for him. I haven’t always done what I should. I haven’t always been a good guy. But there comes a point where you have to look in the mirror and decide which guy is gonna ensure your survival. The good guy, he wasn’t cutting it. I was hungry, I was desperate, and I wanted to save my mom more than anything. It’s not something I expect you to understand. It’s not something you can understand.
“I’m not sorry for what I did. I’m only sorry I didn’t act soon enough to move us away from him. Being in that situation is what made me. I had to do what I did to survive.”
“And now? This thing you have to do, you gotta steal another car?”
Tyson shook his head. “I was supposed to, but I’m not. Our chopper, Mexico, he wants a big way out of town, because he’s scared the feds are onto him. He wants one of us to deliver a car tomorrow night. I have another idea.”
“What?”
Tyson smiled softly as he reached out and caressed my cheek. “Do you really need to know all the details? Just trust me on this, okay? Before, I was going to be stealing something. Now, I’m exchanging my past for my future. It’s all legit and legal, I promise,” he swore.
I clutched his shirt in hands. “You swear?”
“I swear, Nandy. If I get pulled over by the police, they’re not going to arrest me or anything. I’ma be clean.”
He wasn’t doing anything illegal. There was no crime about to take place. The news calmed my nerves, even if I was still in the dark. “You scared me.”
“I scared myself.” He looked away. “I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I have to go back and say goodbye. From here on out, I’m on the straight and narrow, and with you. I just have things to settle there, okay?”
“Okay.”
He reached out and touched my face again. “If I don’t make it home tomorrow night, I want you to know that I love you, okay? I want you to know that I don’t regret this summer, that I’ve loved every minute of fighting with you and being with you. That I love you and your family for taking me in and giving me this second chance.”
My vision blurred at his confession and the possibility of his not returning home from his trip.
“Don’t.” I struggled to speak. “Don’t say that. You’re gonna come back to me, okay? Promise me.”
“I want to.”
“Then promise me!”
For a moment, he just stared at me, and the terror of whatever he was planning scared me deeper than his getting arrested. “I promise, Nandy. I love you.”
My heart swelled, and I didn’t want any more words to be exchanged between us.
Tyson read my soul, and he knew not to speak but to act.
He leaned down to kiss me and I reached for the hem of his T-shirt, wanting it off him.
Tyson caged me against the floor, his arms on either side of me as he stared down at me. “No.”
“Please,” I begged.
“Say it,” he demanded. “I need to hear you say it.”
I was afraid to tell him how I felt, but I knew he felt the same. “I love you, Tyson.”
My words must have been magic to his ears as he lowered himself to meet my body, and his hands seized my waist as he positioned himself between my thighs. Our kisses were impatient as rushed hands went about grasping at clothing, trying to rid our bodies of any material. It was like a race to see who could get the other completely naked the fastest. In the end, Tyson won, and the sensation of being nude felt completely daunting for the first time.
Lying naked beneath him, I felt shy and nervous. His gaze roamed my body as he took his time to become acquainted with all that I had. His exploration made me feel like a virgin again, like what we were about to do was so new to me that I was almost afraid. But I wanted him too much to be truly scared.
I reached out to touch him and he caught my hand, interlocking our fingers, the contact instantly warm. Skin against skin. We were like a dark chocolate Reese’s. I liked the sight of us.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “We’ll be safe, okay?”
Tyson nodded, probably wanting all of me just as I wanted all of him. He kissed the back of my hand before releasing me and removing the last of his clothing and gathering a condom from his wallet.
I watched him hover above me and gain his stance between my thighs. Anticipation prickled all over my skin as I let out a breath, if only to release some of the butterflies. All the while Tyson kept his eyes on me, eating up my nerves the longer he stared at me.
A Love Hate Thing Page 33
