25. Tyson
twenty-five
Tyson
In all the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never once visited Ham at work, which is probably why I have no clue what he does.
Sure, he’s the security manager for his mom.
It sounds impressive until you realize he’s not a frontline guy.
He’s never the guy standing next to his mom.
That spot is reserved for a guy with muscles.
Once I learned that, I just assumed he schedules the guys who do the real work.
I take the bus to the closest stop and walk until I’m on the edge of the office complex, craning my neck at the building.
Then I glance at my phone, check the address to confirm I’m at the Hart Senate office, and look back up.
So, this is where they all work—Ham, Lottie, and their mom.
An American flag snaps stiffly in the wind, welcoming me forward.
In my head, I mutter, This office is way scarier than I thought.
My stomach twists as I step inside the door. Before I can take another step, a uniformed officer shifts subtly in my direction, like he clocked me the second I crossed an invisible line. “Can I help you?” he asks.
I lift my palms, suddenly very conscious of how out of place I probably look. “Yeah, I’m here to see a friend, Hamilton Halloway. I called ahead. He said I should be on a list for a visitor pass or something.”
The officer’s expression flickers. “What did you say your name was?”
I step forward. “Tyson Lane.”
The officer speaks on his phone. After a moment, he turns back to me. “You are cleared to go through the metal detector.”
Taking a cautious step forward, my eyes flick from the uniformed officers stationed at every corner to the throng of visitors moving purposefully through the doors.
I get in line with them and follow them through the checkpoint.
The second I step past security, I’m in a hallway where Ham’s waiting.
“Ty,” he says slowly, scanning all around me.
“I’m so touched you are visiting, but also a little suspicious. Care to tell me what’s up?”
I try to smile, but the guy works security for his mom. Which means two things:
This is the worst possible place for me to show up to see him. He already knows something is wrong.
“I just need to talk,” I say, rolling my shoulders. I look around at all the rooms and nod toward a dark one. “Can we go someplace private?”
His eyes narrow, his feet planted firmly, making no move toward a quiet room. “You never ‘just need to talk.’ Last time you showed up to talk unannounced, it was in Mapleton when you got traded, thus breaking up our friendship—”
Cutting him off before he gets ridiculous, I spout back, “It wasn’t a breakup.”
“It felt like it to me, because we both cried.” He jerks his chin up, like he’s trying to rush me, or maybe he’s on to me. “Anyway, you’re in a federal building, so I know you did something wrong, or you wouldn’t be bothering me at work. What did you do?”
I rub a hand over my face, as this is insanely impossible.
There’s no way I can tell him what’s transpired in the last twenty-four hours, especially here in the open.
Doing my best to create a private place, I slide my feet back until I’m against the wall.
Ham narrows his eyes until the crease between his brows melts into one giant unibrow.
I’ve seen a lot of intimidating faces before on the hockey rink, but this one is giving “I’ll kill you if you BS me” vibes.
He follows me until my back hits the wall.
I swallow hard, as if I’m forming a launch pad for all the things I need to confess.
I can’t hold back, and the truth explodes out of me like a bomb.
“I kissed Lottie!” My arms fling out as if they too can’t hold back, and I slam my lips together, gluing them shut before anything else can escape. I wait for him to scream.
He simply tilts his head toward me. “What do you mean, you kissed her?”
I rush on, unable to stop reliving the kiss in this very moment, relishing every detail.
“It was a real kiss, with my arms wrapped around her, and it was everything I ever imagined. She kissed me back with passion, and my entire soul reorganized itself around her existence. My life officially has a before-and-after moment now, and—”
“STOP,” he barks, physically gagging. He scans down the hallway as if regretting not letting me into a private office. Then his voice drops. “Oh, Mylanta! Dude. No more talking. That is my sister!”
I wince, realizing I was reliving it all out loud. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You kissed Lottie.” His nostrils flare, eyes pinning me in a threatening glare. “With your mouth. Don’t say you didn’t mean to. You can’t accidentally smash your mouth onto someone. You did it on purpose. Don’t lie to me.”
“I mean, yes, I meant to kiss Lottie, but I didn’t mean to upset you. You cut me off with that murderous look before I could finish.” I need to giggle—saying it out loud fills me with little happy bubbles that flutter up my throat. “It was life-changing.”
“Stop!” He points at me. “I swear if you say one more thing—”
I can’t help but smirk, slipping back to that magical moment. “She smelled like—” I start, but he doesn’t let me continue. He jerks back so fast, letting out a choking noise somewhere between a cough and a shriek.
“I hate you!” he yells, flailing one arm as if I’ve thrown a live grenade at him. “I don’t need these mental images.” Though his words are mean, I know him well enough to know he’s not serious about the hate. He’s a tad dramatic.
I lean back, pretending to shield myself from the imaginary attack. “That’s fair.”
He staggers a few steps back, waving both hands like he’s fending off a swarm of angry wasps. “No! Seriously! It’s too much. Don’t talk about it in any detail, or I will barf.”
Holding back a laugh like my life depends on it, my lips twitch. “Was it the part where she kissed me back with passion?”
He throws his head back dramatically. “It’s all of it!”
We stare at each other before he shakes his head, muttering, “I knew this would happen. I knew it.”
“You did not.”
“I absolutely did. You look at her like she’s—” he cuts himself off and gags. “Dude, this is so weird.”
“The gagging is a little dramatic.” I gesture forward but don’t dare move. My back is still smashed flush with the wall. I bet he’s regretting not going into the private office now.
He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. Okay. I get it. It was bound to happen, but please don’t ever tell me about when you touch her again. Or anything.”
As much as I’m glad to have this off my chest, my stomach drops.
There’s more I need to confess. Now I’m the one checking up and down the hallway to make sure no one is listening and I continue in a lowered voice, “Lottie is going to tell your mom about us. We don’t want to hide it. We want a real shot at something.”
“She is?” He groans as his eyes roll back in his head.
“Yes.” I take a fast breath before adding, “I was hoping you’d help.”
He gives me a look like his brain just hit the “panic” button. “I’m not helping you get killed.”
“Please. Your mom isn’t a murderer. I mean, I don’t doubt she’s not above a nice revenge plot, but do you really think she’s capable of murder?”
“Honestly? With her track record? I wouldn’t even bet on you living past lunch.”
That throws off my swallow, and a laugh bubbles out. “Ha, ha. You’re kidding.”
He shoots me a sharp side-eye, and nerves spiral up my arm as I start rambling, “Seriously, bro, it’ll all work out, but Lottie needs a buffer—and you are perfect for that.
You know me best. You can vouch for how loyal I’ve been to this family; how spotless my criminal record is.
You know what she cares about. But if all that fails, I also know her perfect Pinterest garden is a total farce she uses to make voters think she’s more domestic. I could totally blackmail her—”
“Stop.” He throws his hands up. “You aren’t going to blackmail her, but you’re right, even if it’s cringe.” He paces to the other side of the hall and stares out a window before he says calmly, “I hate this idea, but if Lottie has to be with someone …”
I don’t breathe.
He shifts his weight and looks across the hall at me and sighs. “… I guess it could be worse than my best friend.”
My eyes pop wider as I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is he accepting this? I cross the hall in three big steps and pat him on the shoulders. “Just think, if I play my cards right, we could be brothers for real.”
“Don’t give me a visual!” He throws his hands up in warning.
“A visual of what? Our wedding?”
Just then Senator Halloway barrels down the hallway like the building is on fire. “Emergency,” she announces toward Ham. “We have a situation.”
Both of us straighten.
“Bodan,” she says dramatically.
My blood boils. I can’t wait until he’s out of the picture, and I speak up before Ham can. “What about him?”
“His grandfather just died,” she says grimly, “and this is terrible for us.”
Ham and I exchange a look before he takes the bait. “How terrible?”
“It’s all over the media,” she says. “Breaking news. It turns out Bodan’s grandfather is Pulitzer Prize–winning author Hank Bowey.”
My stomach sinks.
I’m not a reader, but I know the name. He’s practically a treasure who wrote a novel about America before the republic, and it’s been added to every required reading list in every school on the planet.
“And,” Senator Halloway continues speaking as she plows toward her office, “the media is already speculating whether ‘girlfriend, Lottie Halloway,’ will attend the funeral…” Her voice trails off as she doesn't pause to talk and disappears into her office. Silence crashes down in her wake.
Ham slowly turns to me. “This is getting out of hand.”
Dread curls deep in my chest. Lottie can’t publicly break up with Bodan now.
It will destroy her mother if she dumps Hank’s grandson on the eve of grandfather's death or really anytime soon. She’ll have to wait for our country to mourn the loss of this great man, and we’ll have to wait to be together.
I’ve waited my whole life for her. I will wait the rest of it if I have to, but my heart plummets, heavy like an anchor dragging it down. It takes everything in me to murmur, “Yeah, it’s already gone too far.”
Ham looks in the direction of his mom’s office, shaking his head in disgust. “Lottie’s going to have to go to that funeral, or else it’ll backfire.”
Somehow, as bad as this feels, something tells me it’s only the beginning.