Chapter 18
18
ECHO
My nerves jangle as I let myself into the building Tyler lives in and head for the stairs. Soraya gave me his address and told me he occupies the third floor. When I woke this morning, I felt like I needed to see him in person, but now that I’m here, I can’t help wondering what drove me to come.
I don’t have a plan—or at least, not much of one. I just want to know why he did what he did when he broke us, and I think I’m finally ready to listen. Perhaps learning the reason for his actions won’t change anything, but it might provide a sense of closure I’ve never had.
I take the steps up quickly, so I won’t have time to overthink my decision. When I reach the third floor, I stop at the door and knock. I don’t hear anything on the other side. Maybe Tyler isn’t home. Or maybe he has good soundproofing. I sigh and scrub my hand down my face. At this point, I’m just looking for an excuse to escape.
The door swings open, and Tyler is standing on the other side, wearing soft gray sweatpants that mold to his thick thighs and a faded T-shirt with the Princeton logo printed on the front.
His eyebrows knit together. “Echo, what are you doing here?”
“I came to talk.” I resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself. I’m not going to self-comfort in a visible way. It’s important that he not view me as a victim right now.
“Okay.” He opens the door wider and steps aside. As he does so, the collar of his shirt shifts, revealing a small moon on the end of the necklace he’s wearing.
My heart stutters. It’s the necklace I gave him all those years ago. He’s still wearing it, even though the metal has darkened slightly with age. I step past him, ignoring the thundering in my chest and the way my mind is whirling, trying to figure out what it means that he’s wearing my necklace.
The living area is open, and the scent of rice and cooking onions hangs in the air. I breathe it in and my head swims. I haven’t eaten yet today because I’ve been so nervous about this visit.
“How did you find me?” he asks, closing the door behind us. When he doesn’t lock it, a little of the tension releases from my shoulders. “Soraya.”
I nod, although it doesn’t seem like he needs the answer. Perhaps there are so few people who know where he lives that it’s obvious who spilled the beans.
“I’m cooking lunch,” he explains as he heads toward the adjoining kitchen. “It won’t take much longer.”
I glance at the clock. It’s late morning. Early for lunch, but not by much.
“Sorry, I should have thought about that before I turned up.” If I’d been brave enough to come when I first had the idea, rather than wasting the morning building up the courage to face him, I’d have had his undivided attention. Although, come to think of it, perhaps it’s best not to have his focus all on me.
“It’s fine.” His smile is almost shy. “Can I get you a drink while I finish this?”
“Just water, please.”
While he fills a glass, I take the opportunity to look around his apartment. It’s clear that his furniture is top-of-the-line, but it isn’t showy. The large gray sofa is made for comfort, and the color scheme is peaceful—all soft neutrals.
That said, the living area is by no means bland. That would be impossible when one of the walls is dominated by a massive painting of a night sky, featuring the faint gold arcs of shooting stars splashed across it. In the corner of the painting, a crescent moon overlooks it all.
“Do you like it?” Tyler asks.
I jolt, surprised by his voice. I was so taken in by the painting that I hadn’t realized he’d approached me.
“It’s beautiful,” I admit.
“I think so, too.”
There’s a weightiness to his tone that I’m not ready to address yet, so I turn away from the painting and instead check out the photographs on the cabinets. There’s one of him with Soraya at her high school graduation, and another of her in the stands at one of his games, wearing a shirt with the same name and number as the one he sent to me.
Frowning, I scan the other photographs. There are another couple of him and Soraya, but none of his parents. Behind me, the pan sizzles, and the aroma of chicken joins the others.
“Would you like some chicken and rice once it’s done?” Tyler asks.
I stroll to the kitchen, moving slowly because it’s so strange seeing him prepare a meal. I didn’t even know he could cook.
“Only if there’s enough,” I say. “I’m not very hungry.”
I’m too anxious for that.
“There will be plenty,” he assures me. “Just let me add some vegetables.”
My eyebrows rise as he grabs a pepper, a stalk of broccoli, and a green leafy vegetable from the refrigerator. He rinses them and begins to dice the pepper, adding it bit by bit to the chicken, which is frying with the onion.
“That looks healthy,” I remark.
He nods. “Rice, chicken, and vegetables is a great combination for my lean protein intake and getting good carbs into my system. I try to have it, along with a protein shake or a smoothie, after most of my practices and games.”
“Makes sense.” What doesn’t make sense is this inane conversation. Why can’t I get to the point?
“How come you’re here?” he asks.
I bite my lip, pleased he’s too focused on chopping broccoli to notice my nerves. “I want to know why you did what you did back in our senior year.”
His head snaps up and his eyes lock on mine. His hand stops instantly. “You’re ready to listen?”
“I am.”
“Okay.” His nostrils flare as he draws in a long breath. “I’ll tell you, but only once lunch is finished. I don’t want to do this while I’m distracted.”
I’m almost disappointed by that. Hearing him out might be easier while he has a task to distract him, but I understand his reasoning. He’s worked hard to get me to this point, so he won’t want to ruin it by giving the conversation less than his complete concentration.
“Can I help?” I ask, hoping to speed him up. Being in his private space, with the necklace and the painting to remind me of our shared past, is messing with me. The sooner I can leave, the better.
“Could you shred the spinach?” he asks, gesturing to the leafy vegetable on the counter beside the chopping board.
“Sure.”
“Great. Just put it straight into the pan.”
I shred one leaf of spinach quickly, making sure to remove any gross bits. It wilts as I add it to the pan. “All of it?”
He glances over. “Maybe a third.”
I separate out a third and put the rest back in the refrigerator, then make quick work of tearing it into small pieces and mixing it into the chicken, onion, and bell peppers. When Tyler adds the broccoli, he places a lid over the pan, and it fills with steam.
We stand in awkward silence, neither of us quite sure what to say. Eventually, he mixes a protein shake and I watch while he drinks it, sipping from my glass of water just to have something to do.
When the chicken and vegetables are done, he portions them out onto plates, creating two huge servings. One is bigger than the other, but he’s definitely forgotten how much normal people eat because the amount he’s dished up could cover my lunch and dinner. Once he adds a scoop of rice, there’s really no chance of me finishing the meal.
“Thanks,” I say, following him as he carries his plate to the sofa. There aren’t any chairs, so I sit as far from him on the sofa as I’m able to. With the coffee table in front of us, the setup reminds me of the room where I used to tutor him.
Tyler sets his cutlery on his plate, and the plate on the table. He turns to face me.
“Let me start by saying that I’m sorry for what I did to you. I know that an apology isn’t worth much, especially not this many years too late, but I wish more than anything that I hadn’t hurt you.”
“Why did you?” I ask, wrapping my hand around the fork to ground myself in the present. I couldn’t risk my mind slipping into the past.
His pale gaze holds mine, burning with a passion I remember well, but the level of intensity is more than I ever witnessed from him in the past. We were crazy about each other, but our relationship wasn’t the only thing that mattered. I get the feeling that for Tyler, that’s changed.
“I was trying to protect you,” he replies.
I look down at the fork, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze for any longer. A lump forms in my throat. He was trying to protect me?
On what planet does crushing my heart and publicly humiliating me somehow protect me?
“You—” I cut myself off before I finish snapping at him. It won’t achieve anything. I came here to listen, so listen I will. “Go on.”
He inclines his head, the slant of his mouth showing that he recognizes my restraint. “My father was abusive.”
“I suspected as much,” I admit.
“I know you did.”
“He’s dead?” I haven’t yet acknowledged this to him.
“Yeah, and good riddance.”
My eyes widen at his vehemence. But then, I don’t have an abusive parent. My mom is wonderful, so I can’t understand what he went through growing up.
He touches the moon hanging from the chain around his neck and rubs it between his fingers. “The day before prom, he found out about us.”
My breath catches. “How?”
And what had he done to Tyler to punish him for disobeying one of his edicts by dating someone?
“Somehow, he made the connection that we’d been at the hotel. He, uh, got his hands on my phone and the messages made it obvious who I’d been there with.”
My hand twitches, oddly eager to reach for his. “He must have been furious.”
He makes a weary sound. “That’s an understatement.”
I try to put the pieces together, but I still don’t see how they fit. “So, because of that, you stood me up?”
He shakes his head, his lips pressed into a firm line. “Dad knew you were at school on a scholarship, and that you were hoping to get a full scholarship for college. He threatened to have your scholarship revoked if I didn’t end things with you. He was on the school board, so he could have made it happen.”
My mouth falls open. “What?”
I’d wondered what might happen if Mr. Kinsey found out about us. I’d have been a fool not to. But I always feared more for Tyler than myself. I’d never thought he’d find a way to punish me for our relationship.
His jaw tightens. “He said he could get your mom fired as the school cleaner too, and if he spread the word to his friends, she wouldn’t have been able to find work anywhere.”
Even though dozens of questions sit on the end of my tongue, I remain silent, digesting everything he’s said. I believe him. I can imagine Mr. Kinsey making exactly that kind of threat. Whether he had the pull to follow through on it, I’m less sure of, but Tyler clearly believed he did.
“He also…” He reaches across and touches my knee. I flinch, taken by surprise, and his face falls. “Sorry. I just wanted you looking at me, so you’d know I’m being honest.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine. I get it.” But he looks devastated. “Dad also told me he could make it impossible for you to get a college scholarship. I don’t know what he would have done, but if he’d come up with some bogus charge against you, no college would have looked at you twice.”
I’m beginning to understand the situation he was in. Even if I can see potential flaws in Mr. Kinsey’s threats, he’d mentally, emotionally, and physically abused Tyler for years. Of course, Tyler wouldn’t doubt his ability to follow through.
“Or…” He nibbles his lip. “He said he could make sure you’d have a full scholarship that would get you through your undergraduate degree. Housing, course fees, everything. All I had to do was end it.”
“So you did,” I say quietly.
“Yeah.” He glances at his meal, which is steadily growing cold. “It wasn’t just that though. I was afraid of what he might do to Mom or Soraya if I refused. Or to you. He might not have stopped at sabotaging your schooling.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, keeping the accusation out of my voice. I’m still trying to get my head around this, but if he’s telling the complete truth—or at least, his understanding of it—then so much of what I believed about the past is a lie.
He scoffs. “I was a dumb kid. I panicked. I didn’t have the emotional maturity to deal with the situation.”
I grimace. “I understand that. I’m still working on my emotional maturity. Some days, I just want to hide from the world.”
Lines of relief groove his face. “It wasn’t just that though. I… I didn’t trust myself to stay away from you. I was worried I’d change my mind and that my selfishness would cost you everything, so I needed you to make the decision. I had to be sure you’d want to stay away from me, so I did the worst thing I could think of.”
Tears fill his eyes.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I can’t forget your expression that morning beside the lockers. You were so brave, and I hurt you unforgivably just because I was too weak to be a better person.”
His voice is muffled, as if he’s speaking through a wall of water.
I shake my head.
All this time, I thought he treated me abominably because he’s a terrible person who enjoyed breaking me down in front of his elitist friends. He still did wrong by me—nothing can erase the pain he caused or the damage he did to my self-confidence—but the reason behind his actions makes a difference.
The why matters.
But he still ended our relationship by kissing another girl in front of me. I’m haunted by that image the same way he’s haunted by our encounter at the lockers.
He humiliated me, but he was trying to protect me, in his own misguided way.
“I need some time to process this,” I tell him, because honestly, a lot of what he’s said in the past few minutes has gone right over my head.
His shoulders slump, and he tugs his hand over the short ends of his hair. “Yeah. That’s fair. Take as long as you need.”
Unenthusiastically, he reclaims his plate and begins picking at his lunch. I do the same, and once again, a strained silence falls between us. This time, I have to acknowledge that I don’t actually hate Tyler anymore. I just don’t know how to feel about the choices he made.
When we’re done eating, I offer to help clean up, but he turns me down.
“It’ll take me two minutes,” he says.
Honestly, I’m surprised he’s not looking for a way to keep me around for longer. A couple of weeks ago, he would have been. But perhaps he’s as off-kilter as I am.
He walks me to the door but pauses before opening it. “Are you okay?”
I consider the emotional shitshow unraveling inside me, and nod. “I think so.”
I’m a mess, but it’s cathartic. Perhaps Dr. Rodriguez was onto something with her talk of closure. Even if the truth hurts, it’s still good to have answers.
“Can I call you?” he asks hesitantly.
I purse my lips. “Maybe in a couple of days. Let me have some time first.”
Then I stretch onto my tiptoes and brush a chaste kiss across his lips. My own lips tingle, the sensation unfamiliar. I haven’t kissed anyone on the mouth since him.
“Goodbye, Tyler.”
I leave while he stands frozen with shock.