17. Tyler
17
TYLER
The financial advisor's office smells like stale coffee and paperwork. It's nothing like the Dean's office, where my father and I were treated like kings. That office smelled like money and expensive cologne. Back then I was a sought-after student, not because of my exemplary record and grades, but because Talon Valdin, top attorney to the elite assholes of the world, is a connection they wanted to make. That day, we were ushered into lux leather sofas and armchairs, offered drinks, and signed paperwork on a sleek dark mahogany desk. Now I'm herded into a dingy office, sat in a plastic chair, and told that my choices are limited.
I'm terrified. But I also love it. Because this is mine. My choice. My future.
"Well, Mr. Valdin, you're paid up through the rest of the semester, but I'm afraid it's too late to apply for financial aid for the upcoming semester if you were planning on taking summer classes. With your academic record, I do think you'll qualify for some scholarship opportunities. If you get started on the applications now, I think you have a good chance to get some assistance for the upcoming academic year."
Too late for FAFSA. No summer aid. I wasn't planning to take the summer off, but I can handle that. And, according to the list of potential scholarships the advisor handed me, I might just be able to make this work.
"I think I can work with this. Thank you for meeting with me."
"Give our office a call if you have any questions about the application requirements, otherwise I'll see you in the fall."
After shaking the advisor's hand, I step out of the office and inhale frostbitten air. The weight of my new reality has been slowly sinking in, settling on my shoulders. I could be freaking out right now.
Maybe I should be freaking out right now.
Hell, I probably would be freaking out right now if I didn't have Isaac Casey waiting for me at home. His home. The one he's opened to me, where he’s not only made me feel welcome, but wanted. I'm not a burden in his space. Not an asset that isn't worth the return on investment. I no longer take up too much space. Or not enough space. Or not the right space.
I'm realistic enough to know I wouldn't be able to do this without Isaac's support. I try to tell myself that I'd have figured it out eventually, that I would have broken from my father's control once I could stand on my own two feet. But part of me questions if I'd have the courage without the extra assistance.
Am I shifting from being indebted to one man to another? The thought sits heavily in my stomach, but I push it away.
Isaac isn't like that. He's given me a place to live, yes, but he also supports me in a way that lifts me up and makes me think I'm strong enough to pull through.
He makes me feel like I could do anything, accomplish anything. And with him there cheering me on, I believe it.
Codependent? Who, me?
* * *
The campus library is quiet at this time of day. The low hum of the heating system, paired with the soft rustling of pages and the light clacking of a keyboard, is like background music. It's relaxing and familiar.
I settle at a table, pulling up some of the research I've been doing. Isaac hasn't asked me to help with anything. He wouldn't, but if I'm going to be hanging around, I might as well make myself useful. Graphic design and digital marketing are different fields, but they're tied closely enough that I've taken plenty of classes to be useful. If I look hard enough, if I'm creative enough, maybe I can find a way to help the gym be successful. It's the least I can do.
I’m so lost in the intricacies of content marketing that I don't notice a presence behind me until a familiar voice cuts through my focus.
"Tyler."
My entire body stiffens and my stomach churns, bitter nausea climbing up my esophagus.
Schooling my features as best I can, I slowly look up. My fingers tighten around my pen like it’s a weapon.
He's standing too close, dressed like he's been golfing all morning at the country club. Probably with my father, if I had to guess. He's all pressed lines and smug arrogance, his gaze sweeping over me with blatant distaste.
Mouth twisting into a sneer, he doesn't bother keeping his voice down. "You've been ignoring my calls."
I swallow, forcing my expression into something neutral. "I've been busy."
Guy scoffs. "Too busy to answer a simple call or text? Too busy to spend your nights at your own apartment?"
"Why are you here?"
"What did you tell Talon?"
"Oh, he's Talon now, is he?"
"Answer me!" he snaps.
Closing my laptop, I stand and try to sidestep him, but he moves with me. It takes considerable effort to keep my voice even. "Does it really matter?"
Guy laughs knowingly. It's a sharp, grating sound that lives in my nightmares and feels like cold gravel digging into my skin. "You're such a drama queen. I told you he wouldn't believe you. No one would. It's your word against mine."
My skin crawls, and I take several steps back. He matches each of my steps with one of his own, effectively cornering me in the quietest section of the library.
An exhale of sheer relief escapes me the moment someone comes up the stairs. The library staff member moves behind the desk, watching us with wary eyes. Something in the tension between Guy and me must be obvious because they walk down the aisle of chairs and tables to check on us. "Is everything okay over here?"
I latch onto the opportunity to escape. "Yes, actually, I was just leaving."
Without waiting for a response, I grab my bag and push past Guy, moving swiftly towards the exit. I suck in several gulps of the cold, fresh air, but my reprieve is short-lived.
"You really think you can avoid me forever?" Guy shouts, following me into the small courtyard in front of the library. "You owe me–"
"I don't owe you anything!"
"You can't just get up and leave in the middle of a date," he hisses, voice dropping into a low, venomous tone. "You humiliated me."
"Humiliated you ?" I exhale sharply. What little patience I have is frayed entirely. "You acted like the worst kind of asshole, then took it out on me. You left me face down in an alley.”
“You look fine to me,” he says in a bored tone.
“I spent the night in the hospital with a concussion. The bruising and swelling only recently got to the point where it could be covered."
"Of course you'd wear makeup," he scoffs. "You owe your father a believable explanation. Why don't we have dinner and discuss a plan to–"
"You cannot be serious!" I don't know whether to scream and cause a scene, or walk away again. He'd probably just follow, but maybe if we're somewhere with more people around, he'll think twice about–
"Hey, baby. Everything alright?"
What is Isaac doing here?
His voice is simultaneously the most comforting and terrifying sound I’ve ever heard. In the space of four words, I know I'm safe, that Guy can't hurt me. I also know that these two men anywhere near each other is a disaster waiting to happen.
Guy looks from me to Isaac, who's standing less than ten feet away, looking from me to Guy. He's wearing his usual dark jeans, faded hoodie, and scuffed work boots. He doesn't have his ball cap on, and despite the cold, has the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up. It occurs to me he might have done that on purpose, because his bare arms, paired with the way he's standing, look mildly threatening. The bruises and split lip from the fight last night only make him look more dangerous instead of making him look like a victim like I have.
"Is everything okay here?"
"You have got to be kidding me," Guy spits. "That guy, really?"
"Leave him out of this," I warn.
Guy sneers. "Oh, I don't think so. Not after the way you were eyeing him that night. Jesus, Tyler. I knew you were a desperate, insecure little bitch, but I didn't realize you were that pathetic." He steps closer, his voice dripping with condescension. "Do you honestly think he wants you? I guarantee he's only using you for your money and a warm body with no scruples to fuck between parole violations."
Isaac takes in my expression, then Guy's looming presence. He steps forward.
Before Isaac can close the distance, Guy steps into my space, holding my arm so I can't get away. "Just wait until your father hears who you're spreading your legs for. As if I needed any more proof that you're nothing but an attention seeking whore."
Isaac pushes Guy away from me and steps between us in a flash, using every inch of his height and presence to his advantage. Guy is only an inch or two shorter than him, but he looks small and weak in comparison. It's more than just his size, though. It's everything about him. It's the hostility and protectiveness that pours off him in waves.
Guy tries not to show that he's intimidated, but it's obvious. He takes a step back, gesturing with his hand as if to say, "you can have him."
"Good luck with your gutter trash, Tyler."
Isaac doesn't even flinch.
Once Guy is out of sight, he turns to me, cupping my cheek and looking into my eyes with genuine concern. "Are you okay?"
I wave him off like Guy is no trouble, just a pest to be shooed away. "He's just an asshole, is all."
There's an edge of concern in his voice that tells me he's not buying it. "What was that about?"
Silence stretches between us while I try to find the words. I can feel his eyes on me, searching for answers I'm not willing to give. There's no point. All the truth would do is cause more problems. Isaac would go after Guy, and he'd be the one to be punished. Isaac would lose everything, and I would lose him.
"It was nothing. He's nothing."
Adjusting my bag and making sure I didn't leave anything in the library, I try to deflect so we can move on. "This was a surprise. What are you doing here?"
Isaac stares in the direction that Guy left, jaw ticking. It's not until I thread my fingers through his and bring his hand up to kiss his bruised, tattooed knuckles that he looks at me again.
"I need to drive out to help my mom with something. I'll only be gone for the night and should be back before you arrive home from school tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person."
"Is your mom okay?"
"She has an appointment with a pain specialist, and Chelsey has to be at a training seminar. The waiting list for these appointments can be months, so she can't miss it."
"Of course. That's important. When do you have to go?"
"I'll leave straight from here. I thought maybe we could have lunch, and I have something for you."
"A present?"
"Sort of. It's nothing exciting."
"Well, what is it?"
Isaac laughs, and I relax, knowing we've moved past the topic of Guy. He pulls a small rectangular box out of his back pocket and hands it to me.
"It's not brand new or anything, it's refurbished. But it's a newer model, and I already got it set up on my phone plan."
My mouth falls open. "You got me a phone?" And he put me on his personal phone plan?
"In case of emergencies and stuff, I like knowing you're safe." He taps the phone, and the screen saver lights up. It's a picture of Isaac drinking what looks suspiciously like an iced chai latte. I can't help but laugh. "Also, I kind of miss having you around all the time. It'd be nice to get to text and check in when we're apart.
Safe. Missed me. Check ins.
"This is… You didn't have to do this." Getting a new phone was on my list of things to do after my last class of the day, but the fact that he'd thought about it, and put in the effort to add me to his personal phone plan, and even the screensaver is just… really special. "Thank you."
"It's not fancy or new…"
"I don't need fancy or new. I just need you."
I want to facepalm over that one. Corny as fuck! It even rhymed. Gross.
His burst of laughter makes it worth it, even if it's at my expense.
"I love it." I love you.
"Good. Now, how do you feel about taco trucks?"
"I'm open to trying new things," I say, adding a teasing lilt to my words.
He reaches for my hand. "You are, are you?"
Isaac stops walking, looks around us, then takes a sharp right around the side of the library building. He pulls me along to an area shaded by a few small trees and presses my back to the wall.
The way he kisses me, the way he possesses every nerve ending and thought in my brain, makes me think I'd try a lot of things right now. Exhibitionism, anybody?
By the time Isaac pulls away, I'm breathless and seconds away from rubbing myself on him like a cat until I embarrass myself for the umpteenth time.
I don't want him to go, but I would never keep him from helping his mom. How am I supposed to sleep without him?
I'm entirely too attached to this man, but how can I help it when he's just so perfect?