Chapter Five
The hot, white flames of the bonfire licked at the cool night sky as I wrapped my jacket tighter around me, trying to sip on the beer in my hand, but grimacing every time I managed a gulp.
I’d gone too hard, too fast at the karaoke bar, and now I was dancing between being too drunk or being hungover way too early — depending on how the rest of this night went.
I’d had a blast at the bar, but once we’d loaded back on the party bus to head back to the Wagner’s for the afterparty, I’d started slipping.
And I kept going back to my earlier thoughts about me and Morgan and Tyler and the day that everything changed.
I sighed, taking a sip of the bitter beer in my hand as I stared at the fire like it held all the answers.
Only about half of the people who’d been at the bar made it to the fire, the other half surrendering early because they were too tired or too drunk or a combination of both.
Aunt Laura had been the latter, which was a sight for me to see since she’d always been so careful and restrained while I was growing up.
She was so young when she took me in, and I wondered if she felt like she had to grow up faster to be a good example for me.
She was asleep upstairs in one of the many guest rooms, along with the others who couldn’t drive.
Morgan’s parents had turned in after one beer around the fire, and now it was just a small group of us, mostly Morgan’s friends from college and Oliver’s handful of buddies who’d shown up early for the pre-wedding shenanigans.
Morgan was telling an animated story about the first time she and Oliver got into an argument — over which jelly was better, strawberry or grape — when a yawn stretched my mouth open wide.
I covered it with my hand, shaking my head against the growing fatigue, and then there was a chuckle behind me.
I turned and looked over my shoulder, finding a body I knew all too well.
We’d all dressed up for the occasion, and seeing Tyler in dark, slim-fitting slacks and a black turtleneck paired with a charcoal sports jacket that cut him at all the right angles was enough to make my mouth go dry.
He held a glass of whiskey in one hand, and the other was in his pocket.
I followed the lean lines of his body up until our eyes met, his highlighted by the fire, and a smirk bloomed on his face.
“It’s only midnight,” he said simply, but I heard the insinuation in his voice. He was making fun of me for yawning, just like he’d given me a hard time for going to bed early the first night I got here.
If only he knew he was the reason I had needed to get away…
I frowned. “Thanks for the time check.”
Before I could fully roll my eyes and turn around to face the fire again, the hand he had in his pockets slipped out and gently gripped my shoulder, stopping me.
I glanced up at his face, studying the unreadable expression there.
“Walk with me?”
He nodded toward the lake, and I looked at it briefly before I looked up at him again.
Tyler must have read the uncertainty in my gaze, because he relaxed his stance, taking his hand from my shoulder and slipping it into his pocket again.
“You’re falling asleep sitting here,” he pointed out.
“Take a walk, get the blood moving. I’ll grab you a new beer. ”
“Actually,” I said, standing to join him. I pointed to the glass in his hand. “Can I get one of those?”
His grin climbed, and he nodded with a salute, making his way over to the drinks table Morgan’s parents had set up for the party.
I turned, listening to the last bit of Morgan’s story before Oliver started chiming in with his side.
I smiled at their playful banter, glancing around the fire at all the people who loved them enough to take two weeks off from their lives and fly or drive to Bridgechester, New Hampshire.
A few minutes later, Tyler returned with a glass of whiskey for me and a new one for him.
And against logic, I walked with him.
We were both quiet, sipping our whiskey and watching the lake before us get closer and closer as we left the bonfire behind.
The voices and laughter faded steadily, and then it was just the grass and leaves crunching softly under our feet, the gentle waves of the lake hitting the shore, the calmness of our breaths.
The farther we got from the fire, the more I began to shiver, hugging my jacket around me even tighter.
Tyler cut me a glance with a cocked brow. “That little dress isn’t exactly built for New Hampshire summer nights.”
When I met his gaze, it was heated — even in the dark of the night. I felt those eyes on my calves, my thighs, tracing my lean, curve-less body until they locked on mine again.
“It was built for karaoke,” I defended, putting my hood up. “But maybe I should have changed when we got back here.”
Tyler chuckled, steering us toward the dock, and I followed, taking his cue and having a seat next to him at the edge of it. It was easy for him to plop down, but I had to lower down with all the grace of a baby giraffe, maneuvering so I didn’t flash him in the aforementioned short dress.
His feet dangled below him, and he sat his whiskey to the side, leaning back on his palms and looking out at the lake.
The moon wasn’t quite as bright tonight, most of it shaded by thick clouds sweeping by.
But still, there was a soft light from above, just enough to make the water glitter and shine.
I crossed my legs — more for warmth than to be a lady, and drank more of my whiskey. I was sucking it down a little too quickly, I realized. Still, the walk had woken me up, just like Tyler had said, and I loved the way the liquor burned on the way down.
“Here,” Tyler said, shrugging off his jacket. He draped it over my legs before I could protest, and I was instantly enveloped in warmth as the faint scent of his cologne rode the wind up to my nose.
“Thank you,” I managed, and I sipped my whiskey with my eyes on the lake.
There was something familiar about sitting next to Tyler on that dock.
So many years ago, it had been one of our favorite places to hang out.
Whether it was the two of us, or me and Morgan, or all three of us, we’d find a reason to traipse down to the lake and skip rocks off the dock, or watch Tyler attempt to fish, or simply hang our feet in the water when it was high enough.
In the high heat of summer, we’d jump off the edge, letting the cool water envelop us, or latch a few floats to the end of it and catch some rays.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Tyler said after a long stretch of silence.
I sighed, eyes on my finger as it traced the lip of my glass. “It’s okay. You were right,” I confessed. “I was being prickly.”
“I was pushing you, though. I should have left it alone.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Tyler nodded, and his legs kicked gently below him as he leaned back on his palms again.
“I don’t come out here nearly enough anymore,” he mused, reaching for his glass.
He took a long sip before he continued. “I swear, somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-six, I entered into a serious love affair with my job, and I’ve neglected everything else, it seems.”
I stiffened a bit at his words, because it was the first time Tyler, The Man, was allowing me to see a little about who he was now that he was no longer Tyler, The Boy.
I knew that Tyler. I knew the cocky, care-free boy who never combed his hair and always smelled like sunscreen from being outside all the time.
But the Tyler who went into a stiff, boring office every day?
The one who wore suits and talked money with businesses and individuals alike?
The one who had a superstar Instagram model girlfriend who his entire family already loved?
I didn’t know that Tyler at all.
“It’s easy to do,” I offered. “Gotta find the balance between work and play. What do you do for fun?”
Tyler laughed. “Fun. What’s that?”
He arched a brow my way, but I just smiled, waiting.
“I don’t know,” he offered. “I love to travel. Azra and I plan trips when we can get time off, or sometimes I’ll fly to join her wherever she has a shoot.”
My stomach did a flip at the sound of her name rolling off his lips, but I ignored it.
“What about when it’s just you?”
A small smile found his lips, his gaze on the water. “I like to light candles, put on a Hamasyan or Wang record, and read.”
Surprise flittered through me. “I didn’t realize you enjoyed listening to piano so much.”
“It’s sort of a new discovery, the past couple of years.” Tyler shrugged. “It’s peaceful. Sometimes I just sit there and listen, close my eyes, let my mind wander.” Something passed over him then. “It takes me back, in a way. Makes me think of simpler days.”
I nodded, taking another long sip from my whiskey glass, which was almost empty now.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“I asked,” I replied simply.
Another quiet moment passed, and then Tyler took a sip of his whiskey, holding the glass between his legs when he was done with a distant smile. “You were fun tonight.”
I cocked a brow. “What do you mean?”
“At the bar. Dancing and singing the way you were… you were fun. You were different.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He chuckled. “I just mean that I feel like you’ve been kind of hostile since you got here. And tonight, you were… lively. Light. Carefree.” His eyes found mine in the shadows. “That’s how I remember you.”
The whiskey was swimming loudly in my brain, mixing with the vodka and tequila and beer and God knows what else was still hanging around in there. I warmed from the inside out, my thoughts fuzzy.
But my stomach dropped at his words, and a cold sweat prickled on my skin.
I threw back the last of my whiskey — which wasn’t much, but still too much for a single sip, and felt more like a shot. Then, I stood.
“I should head back up there.”
Tyler scrambled to his feet, opening his mouth just like he had in the bar, like he had something to say.
But he was silent.
I swallowed, turning, but two steps down the dock and he finally spoke.
“You’re in your head tonight.”
I paused, waiting, but kept my back to him as my pulse kicked up a notch. How could he tell ?
“I saw it when you were on the bar, and again when you were sitting at the fire. You’re hurting.”
My head dropped, heart sinking with it as I tried to find my argument.
Then, a gentle touch brushed my elbow, and I zeroed in on the way his fingers wrapped around my arm.
“It’s because of what day it is, isn’t it?”
His words were just a whisper, but they might as well have been a blood-curdling scream for how my heart raced in my chest at the sound of them. I followed the line of his arm up to his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, noting the way it was tense before my eyes found his in the darkness.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, swallowing the sour taste of the words down.
Tyler’s brows tugged together, his lips parting slightly, but then he released his grip on my arm, taking a full step back.
We watched each other for a long moment, and part of me longed to take it back, to tell him he was right, that it was the haunting of June eighth that had me fucked up.
I wanted to tell him that it did this to me every year, that every year on this day I thought back to the last time I saw my mother, to the day she abandoned me for good.
And that I thought back to him, too — to that day in his room, to the way his skin was hot and sticky with sunscreen, to the way his lips were warm on mine, to the way it felt to be touched by him.
But what was the point?
He hadn’t been able to heal the wound my mother left. No one could do that but me. And when it came to what happened between me and him , it was even more pointless to bring up.
Because he’d taken it all back.
He’d said it was a mistake, that he was sorry, that he never meant for it to happen.
A day that had killed me and also brought me to life within hours meant nothing to him.
It meant nothing to him — that he’d comforted me, touched me, kissed me, ruined me.
It meant nothing to him that he’d made me feel more loved than I ever had in my entire life right after I’d convinced myself love wasn’t real, and then he’d ripped it away the very next day, taking everything I cherished along with it.
Tyler Wagner had scarred me.
And I didn’t need to remind myself of that anymore than I already did.
I tore my eyes from his, and a soft sort of awareness swept over me the farther away I got. Jacob — my boyfriend — knew everything about me, including everything about how my mother left and what it did to me.
Why hadn’t he asked if I was okay this morning when we talked?
Why did Tyler remember the day, but my own boyfriend didn’t?
I ignored the stupid questions — because that was exactly what they were: stupid. Jacob was the sweetest, most caring man I’d ever known. So what if he didn’t remember the exact day. Who would?
I didn’t let myself answer that question, either, wrapping my hands around my empty glass as I made my way down the dock.
When I hit the end of it, Tyler murmured something behind me, something I couldn’t quite make out against the breeze and the soft chirps of insects surrounding us.
Something that sounded a lot like It hurts me, too.