Chapter Forty-Four Tyler #2
Thoughtfully, he runs the toe of his boot between the sidewalk’s edge and deadening grass.
“You become so fucking intoxicated by her it’s not even a choice, having already fallen before you comprehend the state you’re in.
Plunged headfirst by the time you’ve caught up, but it’s worth it because suddenly you’re inside some of the most memorable moments of your life.
The feeling, fucking indescribable to others, but you know why you’re catching a smile in your reflection.
Why your veins are on fucking fire with an incomparable buzz—because it’s the strongest thing you’ll ever feel as a human being. ”
He squats to his knees before brushing some debris from Dom’s headstone as he speaks.
“And when your worst fear is realized, man, does it feel like fucking death. And in a real way, it is, because you’ve lost access to her, that feeling, while knowing those dreams will never come to pass.
So, you mourn the loss like you do death because it is final, convinced it’s the last time you’ll ever get that high.
I have the receipt of that fucked feeling branded across my heart.
” The click of his Zippo sounds along with his slow exhale as he speaks. “It’s in the beat, right?”
Though I’m teetering on the brink of blinking out, his words keep me temporarily tethered as I mask my reaction.
“It becomes this alien thing,” he continues, “that you utilized to the fullest and, after, just starts beating differently.”
Dragging his cigarette, he sits directly in front of both graves, crossing his arms over his drawn knees, ignoring the fact that I’m standing idly by.
“So you suck in just enough oxygen to fuel the alien in your chest, the ache inside refusing to leave. Forcing you to recognize it as you decide not to bother trying to get past it. Because why bother? Nothing, and I mean nothing will ever touch that first or could ever come close to her.” He shrugs.
“So, as a little time goes by, you allow yourself distraction, a little indulgence to help get through some of those alien heartbeats. And even if you enjoy the time you steal from that ache, can appreciate the taste, the memory of touch, the utter beauty of that distraction, and manage to find yourself temporarily satiated—you’re still fucked. ”
He glances over to me, but I refuse him the contact.
“Because that’s when the alien beat reminds you it exists because of the first, and guilt kicks in.
That guilt feels good—right. And that alien beat soaks it up like water.
But as you continue to feed it, you slowly start to realize that the heart you’re faithful to, loyal to, comparing all others to, exists in some other space without you.
She’s not there and won’t ever be again.
As you recognize that, you feel a little less guilty for distracting yourself.
And after getting another taste of the distraction without the guilt, you start paying attention to the thing that came along and made you think about the first. And the guilt only multiplies because you realize maybe you’re feeling a little like you did the first time.
But you don’t want it to be true, because then, maybe it wasn’t real. Any of this sound familiar?”
I sit down next to him, wiping the grass off my hands, utterly mute.
“The thing is, and that most stupid bastards like me don’t realize this until it’s too late, is that the second high is the first all over again.
Chances are, you’ll make bigger mistakes because you remember how bad it felt the first time you lost it.
Ironically, it’s even more meaningful and rare this time around because once you recognize it, you’ll do anything not to lose it again, including denying yourself of it. ”
“I’m not in love with her, Sean—”
“But you’re not not in love with her,” he states.
“Stop comparing us.”
“I could, but tell me, of the people you haven’t alienated yet, how much do you have in common with them? How in touch are you feeling with Tobias’s headspace and lot in life right now?”
When I don’t reply, he continues.
“Yeah, you can’t relate to him because he’s too busy being happy he got the girl.
Russell? How about Julien? Donovan? I’m betting they can’t relate fuck all to your struggle.
” He shrugs. “But me? I know exactly how you’re feeling right now, man, and it’s fucked.
It’s fucked because you know there’s something there you’re purposefully not tapping into, because you refuse to get past the anger and the reason your alien heart was born.
But tell me this, brother.” He turns to me, scanning my face.
“How hard did that alien heart fucking beat when you let yourself go in her. Scared and all? How good did it feel when the pain you carried evaporated, if only for a little while, when you fully lost yourself with someone else? All that lonely isolation you felt vanishing in those heartbeats when you fucked her and punished her for not being someone else. For not being Delphine. Not even realizing that she didn’t need to be. ”
I stand. “I’ve got shit to do.”
He stands too and palms my shoulder. “All right then, I didn’t bring you here for a pep talk you’d ignore anyway.”
“So why the fuck are we here?”
Eyes lingering on Dom’s grave, he shifts his rapidly hardening gaze to me. “I’m here to tell you we formally accept your resignation.”
Unable to hide my flinch, I bolt my eyes to his. “The fuck?”
“I could give you some bullshit about you never allowing another bird who’s become a liability to himself and others to remain in charge, but we both know that’s not the truth. Sad truth is, we simply don’t want you with us in this state anymore and refuse to continue to watch you fade away.”
He delivers this so casually, I take a step back as I gauge him.
“You yourself admitted you wanted a few months of boring, right? So take them. Take a beat, brother. But facts are, even if you decide not to, you’re clipped.”
“Like you can fucking do that,” I scoff.
He looks over to me with an expression reserved for few. “You all conveniently forget, too fucking often, this is my club as much as it is yours. But the decision has been made, and it’s mutual among everyone, including Preston. You’re out, man.”
Pulling my keys, he presses them into my open hand, his words biting. “Your freedom.” They drop to the ground unclaimed as he pushes past me, leaving me utterly stupefied before I speak at his back.
“You’re full of shit.”
“Sadly, I’m not bluffing,” he relays, pushing open the gate without glancing back. “We’re all aligned in this, I’m sorry.”
Reeling, I snap at him, “You can’t fucking do that, Preston is exposed—”
“We’ve got him,” he tosses back easily, too easily.
“You don’t have shit,” I bark evenly, “you won’t last a fucking week.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, I’ll be sure to send that up the pipeline.”
“Yeah? I bet you were all too fucking happy to be the one to deliver this news,” I snap.
He pauses, unable to let my venom pass as his expression hardens further. “If you truly think that, it just goes to show how fucking far gone you are. And don’t bother trying to get airborne, we’re making fucking sure you stay grounded until Baby Mama calls. That’s if she does.”
His words and resignation inject a wave of panic into my veins. “The fuck, Sean! I’ve dedicated my entire life to—”
“We’ve been made painfully aware,” he interjects, “and that’s why we’re giving it back.” When he snaps the gate behind him, the sound is filled with a finality that shudders through me. “Your life is all yours again, brother, so live it.”
Years of careful planning, along with a litany of things he’s not privy to, come to mind as my anxiety ramps. “This isn’t a fucking game! The stakes are too fucking high!”
“We agree.”
“Oh, ‘we agree,’” I scoff. “We who? There’s no fucking club without me!” I shout as he continues down the hill, his gait unhurried.
“We agree on that as well.”
“So what the fuck!?”
“Take a breath, man. Take a lot of them. We need our brother back.”
The whole of my burgeoning fury bursts from my mouth as he saunters down the hill as if he didn’t just snatch my purpose while recklessly gutting me in the process.
“Yeah, well, you’ll never see him again, motherfucker. Fuck you!” I stalk over to the gate. “I regret the fucking day I met you!” I roar. “And I swear to God, how I wish I never fucking had!”
He stops and stills for long seconds, dipping his head for several heartbeats before looking back at me, tears brimming in his eyes where he stands midway down the hill. It’s then that I realize the trip to hell he decided to take me to is his own.
“We thought that might be the case … hoped it wasn’t”—he swallows a few times—“but now we know.”
Eyes cast down, he releases tears that glide down his jaw before he sparks another cigarette. Only lifting his gaze once he’s taken a long drag. His words coming out in a croak, each losing strength as he speaks.
“Deny it all you want, but you’re acting the same way he did.
Whether it’s my paranoia or not, I’m not taking that chance with you, not for any fucking reason.
This isn’t tough love, Tyler, it’s just love,” he whispers brokenly.
“And we all love you enough to give you the time and space away from us to find and claim a life worth fighting for. But we can’t watch you disappear anymore.
” His declaration runs heavily between us, as if he’s leaving my headstone.
It’s then I realize why his expression is so familiar. He’s mourning me.
As he pulls his keys from his pocket at the bottom of the hill, his agonized eyes pin me over the roof of his Nova. “I’m so sorry, brother,” he utters jaggedly before snapping his door closed and speeding away.
* * *
Staring up at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom, I fume at the truth that I’ve been cast out of the club—by everyone.
Even Preston. Twenty years of my life unfold as I recount each memory of cleaning up their messes while helping them wade through their mistakes, only to be booted out for making my own.
Never once deserting them after eating the bulk of their sins.
Taking the brunt of the weight and carrying it afterward.
Ushering them from dangerous personal directions, only to be tossed on my fucking ass when I’m at my lowest.
Some fucking brothers.
Cast out of the club and army I helped to fucking build. They won’t last a fucking week without me. Not days without needing to call me for something. I know too much. I deal with too much on the day-to-day. No one can operate with the efficiency I do.
Russell, maybe. Julien, possibly.
Tobias can’t even wipe his ass without asking me how much paper to use.
Peter didn’t go along with this. I know he didn’t.
Jeremy? That clown didn’t call this shot.
That French fuck did.
Fucking child. So I didn’t want to talk feelings. So what? He stomped around and fucking murdered his way through his own heartache. Turning into a gin-guzzling borderline psycho.
Did I check him?
Yes, and often, but I didn’t strip his fucking wings.
The mark branded on my skin gnaws at me, where I purposely blur it in my periphery as I recall the upset on Sean’s face at the bottom of that hill.
Fuck him and his self-righteous ass. He couldn’t last a week in my boots.
The fact is, I don’t want him to. I don’t want any of them to, and despite the weight of it, never have. It’s my job to protect them from it, and idiotically, the stupid bastards just took it away from me. A charge my general gifted and trusted me with. One I swore to her I would uphold.
And they stole it. They stole it.
Who the fuck am I? Who will I be without it?
The answer slams into me so fast I choke on the truth—a widower.
Sometime later, I feel him before he approaches my dark room, perching on the edge of my bed.
“Hey, son.”
Emotion blinds me, preventing me from speaking as I come further to.
The streetlight streaming from the blinds across his profile as I glance over at my father and best friend.
A connection I’ve purposely abandoned while becoming something other than the man he had a hand in raising.
It takes all I have to keep my shame from stopping my appraisal.
He looks so much older than I remember from the last time I saw him.
It’s that knowledge that has me splitting wide open as he gazes back at me with unconditional love and pride I no longer deserve.
“Talk to me,” he says as I sit, unable to utter a single word.
It’s when his palm lands on my back that I shatter, shaking my head and seeing the faces of my babies.
Larissa’s face as she stared back at me, scared for the first time.
And it wasn’t in the woods or even when we faced off during that war. It was last fucking night.
“Son, I can feel it, all of it, and I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here.”
I shake my head again furiously to ward off his words, jerking my back away from his steady hand and comforting touch, but he keeps it there, pressing in to ground me. To steady me. Instead, it levels me.
My heart seizes at the fear in Larissa’s eyes, and the eyes of those who knew me best. Fear of and for me.
I saw it, clear as day. In all of them as I withdrew.
As my own fear sets in, I realize I’m helpless against the stranger I now house.
How can I be Carter’s son? Or a father? Or friend, or anything to anyone else, if I have no idea who I am?
“I’m right here, Tyler,” Dad whispers in comfort to the stranger at his side. “We’re going to get through this, do you hear me? Day by day, for as long as it takes.”
The separation from Zach, from that olive grove, from Alexander and Macey to that blissful space I managed to find with Larissa stretches out before me, becoming further out of reach as terror sets in.
It’s when I shoot to my feet to take action—to rebuke the position I’m in and eliminate the debilitating distance, mind scrambling for some way to rectify it, to fix what I’ve broken—that Dad pins me in his arms, holding me as tight as he can.
As he refuses the march, my soldier threatens to resume.
Stilling my footing completely, I lose every bit of grip on those notions as all the will I have left to fight for anything vanishes, leaving me as helpless and as broken as I feel.
Accepting defeat in the battle I haven’t even begun, I sag into his vise hold.
Raising my white flag once more as the soldier I bred, who’s led me through over half my life, abandons me.
Vanishing completely from the man he encompassed, while leaving him utterly depleted.