17. Tinsley
CHAPTER 17
Tinsley
I lay in bed with Archer—my head pillowed on his chest listening to the steady rhythm of his heart while he sleeps—and Hunter’s secret weighs on me more than I thought it would.
Archer was always demonstrative with me, but he’s even more so now. It’s like he’s scooping up sand from the shore and trying to catch the grains that escape through his fingers, afraid of losing a single one. Where he’s open with his affection, he’s more guarded with his words. His candor still exists and he always tells me he loves me, but I see and hear the reservation in his voice. There’s a subtle struggle between his heart and his head, the way his vivid memory creeps in on the present, like phantom hands pulling him back from me at the last second.
Nights are the worst.
He loves me each night with a branding passion that has me soaring, but like the sand he tries to hold onto, there’s an echo of desperation that whispers in. I feel it in the press of his fingers into my flesh, a whisper of the anger he refuses to let himself feel. It’s there in the way he’s reluctant to pull out of me, his brow pulling together in pain as he looks down between us. The lingering kisses that travel from my lips down my throat as he breathes me in, making sure every sense is engaged so when his mind moves the night into long term storage it’s as crisp as possible. Like a savings account for a rainy day he knows is coming, one where I’ll be gone again and he’s trying to learn from the past how to best preserve me.
And when he falls asleep, the tears come, silently rolling down my cheeks as they have every night since our first night together. It’s made worse when his subconscious pushes him to hold me tighter, pull me closer, as if somewhere inside his mind, something is telling him I might run and he needs to be ready.
It’s a defense mechanism I created and Hunter fostered, and seeing it play out each night breaks me down and feeds my anger in equal measure.
Archer doesn’t deserve this, and I have the power to lift it from him. To show him how deep my love has always run. I could come clean and give him the rest of the picture that he’s missing. Show him what happened that night and almost a year later. And some nights, I want to. I don’t want to shoulder someone else’s sins, or be blamed, however buried it may be, for the acts of another.
But I don’t—not even when the opportunity presents itself so prettily on a platter with Archer’s quizzical eyes narrowing and studying me.
He knows I’m not telling him everything, that there’s something I’m holding back. It’s just not what he thinks it is. No matter how much I want to absolve myself and wash away the stain though, I can’t. I won’t. For I fear the truth may cause more harm than the partial lie.
I just hope with time, the scars fade—and with it, Archer’s fears of losing me—making the lie I carry disappear.
Wiping a tear as it falls from my face onto his chest, I cling to him, throwing my leg over his for good measure. If he needs to hold on tight to soothe himself, I’ll hold him right back for as long as he needs me to.
I kiss his chest once, then twice, whispering, “I love you, Superman,” hoping it reaches his subconscious so the worry will let him go and allow him to sleep peacefully.
When he finally starts to relax, truly relax, into a deeper slumber, I close my eyes and drift off with him, not moving from how I’m wrapped around him until the morning.
* * *
“No, no, no, no,” Briar laughs, crossing her hands back and forth in front of her as she shakes her head.
We’re in a booth at Dark Horse with Archer and his family, the plates from our dinner having been cleared long ago. My face is buried in the crook of his neck, hiding from the embarrassment that’s unfolding as Briar regales them with a behind the scenes story from after last year’s Grammy Awards.
“Oh my God,” Ryder crows, laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard while his mom, Eleanor gasps, “No! What did you do?”
I mime scissors and again her mouth drops. “No! You didn’t…”
“We did,” I confirm. “We couldn’t get it over my head and when I tried to shimmy and tug it down, it got even more stuck.
“It was like that episode of Friends when Ross has the leather pants except I couldn’t get the dress off and he couldn’t get his pants back on. It had been a long day and an even longer night. It was what, like three in the morning when I said we were cutting me free?” I ask.
“Mmm at least,” Briar says, sipping her margarita.
“It was going on twenty-fours that I’d been awake, two weeks of hardcore dieting to flush my body of any bloating, and I just wanted to shower, eat a cheeseburger with a strawberry milkshake to drink, and sleep for twelve hours, and the damn thing would not come off. I was way past the point of caring how much the dress cost.”
“Unfortunately, we had used so much Crisco , she was like a little ball of grease, and when she went to shower—” Briar’s cut off by her own wheezing laughter, unable to continue.
“I slipped,” I say, taking my hair from Archer, who’s playing with the ends as he tries and fails to not laugh. Turning to the side, I lift it up to show the small scar and explain, “Cracked my head on the tile and had to get stitches.
“And this one—” I point to Briar who’s red in the face as she laughs without sound right alongside Ryder, “—was zero help. She ran in when she heard me fall but the moment she saw my blood, she passed out! Mikey and John had to take us both to the E.R.”
“But you got your milkshake!”
“I did,” I laugh.
“Shit, baby,” Archer softly swears, no longer finding the story funny. His fingers thread back through my hair, seeking out the small scar. When he finds it, he turns my head toward him and presses his lips to the long since healed wound. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I dismiss, letting my head lull into his palm, my eyes closing as he massages my scalp.
Catty corner to us in the round booth, Eleanor lets out a happy little sigh. “It’s so nice seeing y’all together again. Makes me happy that you found your way back to one another after all these years.”
Opening my eyes, I gaze into Archer’s and smile. “Me too,” I reply, quietly adding, “I love you, Superman.”
He drops his head down to mine and lightly kisses me, returning, “I love you too, Shortcake,” stealing my breath with the words I thought I’d never hear him say to me again and now can’t get enough of.
“I still cannot believe you never told me that Tinsley used to be your girlfriend!” Ellie scolds. “Uncle Archer, you're actually cool! I can’t even believe this. I mean you’re you. ”
“Thanks, Ellie,” he laughs, his large hand coming around me and covering her face as he shakes her head all about. He musses the braid I put in her hair before we left for town so we matched, making her wildly swat at him in an attempt to save her hairstyle, and conspiratorially whispers, “Truthfully, I’m with you, angel face. It still amazes me Tinsley even looked twice at me, let alone agreed to go on a date or come back here.”
The table grows quiet, all eyes turning to us.
The feel of their stare fades as I swim in Archer’s gaze. Like back then—and again when we ran into each other outside of Berry Station—the world quiets and falls away. Nothing exists but us.
My heart thumps erratically in my chest, my breath coming more quickly as fire ignites inside me. I slip a hand under the table and curl my fingers on the inside of his upper thigh and squeeze.
“I haven’t been able to look at anyone but you since that day,” I whisper. “You’ve been my forever from the very start.”
He’s about to kiss me, the hand cupping the back of my neck hinting that I’ll feel his lips like a cattle brand on my heart. But Ames—our lovable third wheel—breaks the moment by coming up to the booth with a tray balanced on his shoulder.
“Okay, break it up,” he says, lowering the tray to the table. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to turn the hose on y’all. Besides, I come bearing the fruits of our town, which we all know Tinsel here has always loved more than Arch,” he winks, getting shoved by the man who only slightly comes in second to my obsession with strawberries.
He reaches across Archer and begins to identify, “Strawberry milkshake; strawberry sherbet and ice cream; cream cake; jam and clotted cream with scones; truffles; and of course your namesake, shortcake, all from Dream Brulée. Well, minus the milkshake and ice cream. I made those.”
Eyes wide at everything in front of me, I protest, “I can’t eat all this. I’ll be doing cardio like a hamster on a wheel for three days straight. It’s bad enough I ate all those buffalo wings and the bacon ranch cheese fries that Ryder lied about helpin’ me eat.”
“Hey, I was going to, but I think Arch fractured my shin, he kicked me so damn hard.”
“Archer!” Eleanor and I both scold.
I’m completely off my game because before I can close my mouth, he’s popping a truffle in. The rich chocolate immediately begins to melt on my tongue, and any will I had evaporates as I bite to crack the shell and taste the sweet and tart filling.
“Oh my God,” I groan, trying and failing to glare at Archer. “This is amazing.”
“Jullian’s going to give birth to a litter of kittens if he finds out,” Briar warns.
I grab one and lean across the table pressing it to her lips. “It’s worth it,” I promise. “Try it.”
She takes a bite and a second later her eyes go wide. “People would sell their souls in L.A. for these.”
“I know!”
I take a sip of the milkshake then push the old fashioned glass to Ellie. “Help me out?”
“Duh!” she yells, grabbing the striped straw and sucking down on the shake until she’s grabbing her forehead.
“Thank you, Ames, but seriously, I can’t eat all this. I’m pretty sure I already put on five pounds just looking at everything.”
Archer brushes my hair off my shoulder and murmurs along the shell of my ear sending goosebumps down my back. “Have as much as you want, baby. I’ll make sure you work it off in bed tonight.”
My budding mini-me and the honorary fourth member to our L.A. girl squad, pipes up. “Uncle Archer, how would that work?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said, you’d make sure Tinsley works it off in bed tonight. How?”
I choke on the forkful of strawberry cream cake I just put in my mouth, hand slapping over my lips as I start to laugh. Across the table, Briar spits out her margarita, tequila spraying everywhere before she falls over into Ryder laughing.
“Really?” Ryder grumbles. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one, Arch.”
“On that note,” Eleanor says, standing up. “Ellie girl, you and I will be heading home now.”
“But Gigi, I want to stay with Tinsley!”
“Hey Little Miss, uh-uh; we don’t whine like that,” Ryder scolds, his eyes narrowing harshly as he stares his daughter down with a look I’ve seen his mom give him, Archer, and Hunter countless times.
Ellie glances away and mumbles, “Sorry,” before looking up at me. “When are you leavin’?”
“Umm…” I stutter, not entirely sure myself. I haven’t spoken with Archer about it yet, but I know the time for me to leave will be here before we know it. There’s only so much I can do in Berry Falls before returning to L.A. becomes necessary. Unable to answer, I offer, “How about we have a girls’ night on Monday since you had your last day of school yesterday, and that way you have Briar and I all to yourself before we leave.” Quickly I add, “If it’s okay with you, Ryder. I totally understand if you’d rather?—”
“Tinsel,” he soothes. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re family and basically Ellie’s aunt. You want to take her for an evening or even the whole night, I’m fine with it. Hanging out with you will be good for her too. You’re proof of what happens when you dream big and stay dedicated to it.”
For most of the evening, Hunter and I have avoided engaging with one another, but the cease fire we’ve been under with everyone present comes to an end.
“She’s leaving,” he hisses, masking the dripping disdain in his tone as the burn of his whiskey. “It’s what she does. Isn’t that right, Tinsel ?”
“My job is based out of L.A.,” I flatly reply, internally screaming at myself to not take the bait. “So yes, I have to spend time there, which will take me away, and I have to finish my tour, which will also take me away.”
Archer’s fingers begin stroking and tangling with my hair and along my thigh where we’re pressed together, and I feel his leg start to jiggle. I drop my hand to his knee and squeeze. When it still doesn’t work, I pull his fingers free from my hair and guide his arm around me so the tips of his fingers reach to the curve of my breast where his name is hidden. At the first caress of his fingers along the arrow, I can hear the air he sucks in and slowly releases, his leg coming to a stop the longer he traces the details over the fabric of my dress.
“For how long?” Hunter demands. “A few weeks? Couple of months? Or are we looking at another ten years before you blow back into town?”
Four weeks of carrying the burden of what really happened rushes forward and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I don’t know, Hunter; you tell me: is someone gonna manipulate the truth and flat out lie to us again?”
“What?” Ryder and Archer both ask, Ames’s eyes going wide and Briar’s mouth dropping before she masks her face into one of matching confusion.
My hands begin to tremble and I suck in a breath. My heart thunders against my ribs and my mouth is full of cotton. I have to say something, anything, to distract Archer, whose mind I can already see is firing away at a million thoughts a second, picking up and discarding pieces of things he’s questioned or noticed that I’ve brushed aside. However, nothing comes to me. I’m frozen like a deer in the headlights with everyone’s eyes on me. Right now, all I want is to yank everything back in and shove it down deep where it can’t affect me, at least not right now.
I don’t even realize my fingers have drifted to my tattoo until they brush along Archer’s. My fingers caress forward making his retreat. At the edge of the hidden ink, we reverse and his slowly chase mine as they pull back to the arrow’s head.
Forward.
Backward.
Forward.
Backward.
Over and over until finally my heart rate returns to normal and my trembling fingers steady.
Carrying this secret is going to ruin me.