Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
tyler
It’s been a long time since he was this nervous standing on the front steps of the Rusu house.
Scratch that.
He’s never been this nervous standing on the front steps of the Rusu house. That winter’s night six years ago feels a very long way off. And it was different then. He was freaking out, yes. But he was freaking out about the very small possibility of everything in his life changing.
Now, there’s no if about it.
The next five minutes are going to change everything. Alexandru will never look at him the same. Alex may never forgive him. Yetta—well, he’s pretty sure Yetta will be over the moon. She’s always had a soft spot for him, but still, one out of three isn’t exactly the result he’s going for here.
“Where do they think you’ve been again?” Tyler asks as he shifts his weight.
It’s over a hundred degrees in Dallas and every bit of that boiling sun seems to be laser focused on him.
His lungs are tight. His chest burns. His palm grows sweaty in Winnie’s hand, but she doesn’t make a move to let him go.
If anything, she clutches on for dear life.
“An artist retreat,” she practically squeaks.
“And they bought that?”
“Sam’s been sending my mom emails pretending to be me. I told them it was a six-week retreat with no cell service. Very prestigious.”
He nods, then swallows, then nods again.
Nina explained earlier that the Rusus believe Tyler is here to film a segment for the show about growing up with the family and their connection to his hockey career.
No mention of Winnie. Nothing. Which, really, he should have expected.
The producers obviously want to milk this moment for all it’s worth.
But that does nothing to ease the guilt twisting his stomach into knots—now, in addition to going behind their backs, he’s springing the truth on them with no warning for the entire world to see.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
“Is someone going to knock on the door?” Nina calls from behind them. “Or do I have to come up there and do it myself?”
“No, I’ve got it,” he answers gruffly, before glancing at Winnie. “Unless you…?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You do it.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yeah.”
“Now?”
“I guess.”
He lifts his hand in slow motion, then closes his eyes, unable to look as his knuckles rap against the door.
Shit.
Fuck.
Shit.
The knob twists.
Right before the door swings open, Winnie drops his hand, dives off the stoop, and lands behind a bush with an oomph.
“Tyler!” Yetta pulls him in for a hug. He glances at Winnie over her mom’s shoulder. Those big hazel eyes stare up at him from the ground, apologetic and alarmed.
“Tyler,” comes Alexandru’s deep voice. The older man grabs his hand for a firm shake. Tyler stands there like an idiot, letting his arm flop like a dead fish, too much to process at once.
“Come in, come in,” Yetta urges, first to him, then to the film crew behind him. “We’re so excited to have you here, and to talk about Tyler. He’s like a son to us. Such a good boy.”
She gently guides him inside to make way for the others.
Tyler glances around in a panic, unsure what to do.
The cameraman is no help. His lips are folded together in barely contained mirth as the lens hums, focusing in on the sheer terror probably painted across Tyler’s face.
Footsteps thunder as Alex comes barreling down the stairs, and all of a sudden, he’s surrounded by all three Rusus with no girlfriend, no backup, and no clue what the hell to say.
Everyone starts talking, moving. The words are nothing but a buzz in his ears as his heart races. The world begins to spin.
This is wrong. So wrong.
He needs Winnie.
He needs to be honest.
He needs everyone to just—
“Stop!”
Yetta glances at him curiously.
Alexandru frowns. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head, trying to find his sense. “I mean, yes. Everything is great. I just, um, I forgot something outside. Give me one sec.”
He rushes out the door, slams it closed behind him, and collapses against the wood.
There’s a second camera out here, so production doesn’t even try to interfere as he looks down over the edge of the stoop to where Winnie is still cowering behind a bush, a handful of green leaves stuck in her black hair.
“What the fuck?” he whisper-shouts.
“I’m sorry!” She buries her face in her hands, then looks up at him. “I panicked.”
“No shit.”
“I don’t even know what happened,” she whines. “I just saw the knob turning, and the next thing I knew, I was in the bush and there was my mom and you were inside and I just— I don’t know. I freaked out. I don’t know, Ty!”
His blood runs cold.
“Don’t know what?” he asks slowly, his fear from thirty seconds ago like nothing compared to the sudden terror enveloping his insides. “Don’t know about…me?”
“No,” she rushes to say, standing back up in alarm. “Not you. Never you.”
“Then what?”
He’s trying to be patient.
He’s trying to understand.
But she just bolted at the thought of seeing her parents, and it’s really fucking difficult to not take that personally.
He reaches out his hand, the warmth of her skin an instant relief to the tightness in his lungs as she grabs his fingers and he pulls.
When she’s back on the stoop, he settles his palms on her small waist and meets her gaze, willing her to explain.
Her eyes turn imploring. She grips his jacket and pulls herself up onto her tippy-toes.
“They’re going to know I lied,” she whispers.
And he doesn’t know why—maybe it’s the earnestness in her eyes or the sudden lightness of a weight lifting free or just the simple fact that she looks so adorably innocent—but he laughs. Right in her face. An obnoxious, loud, barking laugh that he just can’t contain.
Winnie immediately frowns and slaps him softly on the arm. “Shut up.”
He can’t.
His relief is too potent. It’s turned him too giddy. He can’t stop.
She’s not afraid about showing up with him—she’s afraid of showing up at all.
She’s afraid of getting into trouble. Because even though she’s a grown woman who spent the past five years fending for herself in New York City, at heart, she’s a good girl.
And really, he should have been expecting this, but he was too in his own head to notice.
“It’s not funny,” she says, but now she’s laughing too.
“You’re twenty-five,” he gently reminds her.
“Stop.”
“And you jumped in a bush.”
“I know, but, Ty, this is serious.”
“Serious?”
They’re holding on to each other to keep from falling over they’re both laughing so hard.
“It is,” she tries again and straightens her spine with a determined inhale, but her nostrils flare as her lips purse, and it’s only about five seconds before the switch flips and she’s hysterical.
“I quit my job,” she strains to explain, barely able to breathe.
“I told them I was going on an artist retreat, but really, I quit my job and moved out of my apartment to chase some guy—”
He scoffs. “Some guy?”
She rolls her eyes. “To chase you. Same difference. To chase a boy all around the world. And I made my best friend send them fake emails. And, oh my god, I orgasmed in public! In front of cameras! And now I just admitted it! And they’re going to see everything!”
“They won’t show that,” he quickly says, then turns to Nina. “You won’t show that, right?”
“Not all of it,” comes the cryptic reply.
“Oh my god!” Winnie wails. She shakes her head. “What am I going to do, Ty? What am I going to do?”
“Win.” He takes her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
“They’re going to be so mad,” she whispers, threading her fingers around his. “Worse. They’re going to be so disappointed.”
“They love you.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“Still?”
“Yes, still. Always,” he says, his own trepidation melting away in the face of her insecurities. “They’re going to be happy for us.”
“You think?” She smiles through her fear, beaming like a ray of sunlight through a cloudy sky.
“I do,” he urges, not realizing it’s true until the words are out there in the open.
But he does. He believes it. He knows it in his soul.
Even if nothing is the same after today, it will be a good new.
For maybe the first time in his life, he really, truly trusts it’s all going to turn out okay.
“Now, I’m going to ask this one more time.
Are you ready? Or are you going to bolt on me again? ”
She takes a deep steadying breath, sniffling just slightly as she squares her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
They lace their fingers together and, as one, open the door.
Her father spots her first. “Uldwyna?”
“Uldwyna!” Her mom spins mid-conversation with a production assistant, excitement widening her eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at a retreat? Did the producers call you?”
“About that…” Winnie clears her throat and tightens her grip on his fingers.
Alex clocks the move immediately. Tyler knows his best friend like the back of his hand. They’ve been through everything together. One glance is all it takes for Alex to read the truth in his eyes. “Ho. Ly. Shit.”
“Language,” Alexandru orders.
“Sorry.” Alex tries to shake the giddy grin off his lips, but he can’t.
Tyler knows the exact moment he gives up.
He loves gossip. He always has. And this is juicy as hell.
So even though Tyler wants to walk over there and slap a hand over his best friend’s mouth to shut him up before he says anything stupid, he can’t really blame Alex for what happens next.
“Holy shit. Sorry, Dad, but seriously. Holy shit! You guys are finally together for real, aren’t you? Are you? You are!”
“Together?” Alexandru repeats, his gaze finally dropping to the spot where Tyler and Winnie are holding hands. His dark brown eyes narrow.
“For real?” Yetta asks, glancing at her son. “What are you talking about?”