Chapter 27
27
TYLER
I don’t open my eyes after I wake up. Even now, I sometimes wonder if our reconciliation was a wonderful dream and one day I’ll wake up alone in my childhood bedroom while Dad yells at me for being lazy.
“Ty.” She sounds amused. “I know you’re awake.”
I crack one eye open and blow her a kiss. “You caught me.”
She laughs and lifts herself up on her elbow, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like liquid silk. “How does it feel to be a champion?”
I pull her against my body and rest my hand on her hip, taking comfort from her presence and the scent of strawberries that lingers in the air.
“It’s nothing compared to being the champion of your heart.”
She rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
She thinks I’m being cheesy. If only she had any idea how much it means to me to have her. Winning the championship yesterday was a blast, and I know it’ll look good as I enter the draft, but she matters more to me than hockey.
“Hopefully Matthews is okay,” I say.
The defenseman hurt his ankle when he was knocked on his ass during a desperate play by the opposition in the last few minutes of the game. I know he intends to enter the draft too, but if he has rehab to do on an injured ankle, it could hurt his chances.
“We could check in with him later,” she suggests. “You could call him during the drive.”
We all traveled back to Newbury after the game yesterday and had a celebration at Coach’s house, but Matthews didn’t turn up.
“Good idea.” The drive to Charlesville is far enough for me to have plenty of time to talk to him.
“What about your bruises?” She pushes the bedspread down and scans my body, then winces. “That one on your hip is nasty.”
I chuckle. “That’s what happens when someone hip checks you into a wall.”
She doesn’t laugh back, just narrows her eyes. “We should have iced it yesterday.”
“It’s just a bruise.” I draw her down for a kiss. “It’ll be fine in a few days.”
She grumbles but doesn’t say anything else about it. I have to admit, it’s nice to have someone worry about me. Soraya has always been supportive, but she doesn’t fuss the way Echo does. I kind of like her clucking over me like a mother hen.
Ugh. Speaking of mothers…
“I’m worried about meeting your mom today,” I admit. “She doesn’t have a very good impression of me from the past.”
Echo’s expression softens, and she drops back onto her side and cuddles against me. “I’ve explained everything to her. She knows why you did what you did. I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I mean, she’s been polite so far, but we also haven’t come face to face.
I clutch Echo tighter, unwilling to let her go. I’m far less sure about whether her mom will be willing to forgive and forget than she is. If I had to watch someone I cared about get treated like shit, I sure as hell wouldn’t be rushing to forgive anyone.
“I’m going to make pancakes for breakfast,” Echo says, kissing my cheek and then slipping out of bed. “Take a nice, hot shower to ease your muscles and by the time you’re done, they’ll be ready.”
“I can help,” I protest.
She arches her eyebrow. “I’d rather you put liniment on all of your bruises.”
“Fine.” Warmth fills me. I never thought I’d find someone who cares for me like she does. God knows I don’t deserve it, but I’m greedy and I’m going to take her anyway.
I shower, and then we share pancakes. Hers are drenched in maple syrup and chocolate sauce, while mine are accompanied by blueberries and caramelized bananas. Based on the texture, I suspect she added a scoop of protein powder, and I somehow doubt she did the same to hers.
I love it. She’s so thoughtful.
After breakfast, she showers while I pack my bag. Hers is already ready to go because she packed enough to get through the away game, a night here, and the visit to her mom’s, knowing she wouldn’t be back at her dorm for a few days.
When she emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp around her shoulders with only a towel on, I scarcely remember to breathe. It’s like every time she leaves the room, I’m terrified that I’ve imagined the whole thing—or that she’ll come to her senses and run.
I wrap my arms around her, entwining my hands against the small of her back and touching my forehead to hers. “You have no idea how stunning you are.”
“And you, Tyler Kinsey, are far too charming. Let me get dressed. We have places to be.”
Reluctantly, I release her, although it’s a struggle to keep my distance when she strips off the towel. With gritted teeth, I focus on adding the last few things to my bag and zipping it shut. When I return my gaze to her, she’s dressed in jeans and a bra, and is in the process of choosing a shirt from her bag.
Once she’s fully dressed, we carry our bags to my Audi, which we agreed to take since it’s less likely to break down on us halfway there.
I drive and Echo sits in the passenger seat, the window down and classical music streaming from her phone. Violins and pianos aren’t my thing, but I don’t dislike the music either, and I love how relaxed it makes her. It isn’t often that she lets go of all tension and just exists.
But as we draw closer to Charlesville, she grows stiffer, and eventually, she turns off the music.
ECHO
At the beginning of our road trip, my heart was light, but as we drive into Charlesville, my soul grows heavier.
I rarely come back here. I don’t like the way the town makes me feel, or the memories that haunt me while I’m visiting. Too many ghosts exist here for me to be happy.
I direct Tyler to my mom’s place. She lives in the same small, single-story house I grew up in, although the paint is no longer peeling. The garden outside is neat, in contrast to how it used to be. Mom has taken up gardening in her free time.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asks as he parks outside.
I stare out the window at the cheerful yellow porch, with its cane chair near the stairs, and force myself to nod. He takes my hand and squeezes it.
The front door opens and Mom races out, her ponytail bouncing as she jogs over to greet us. She’s smiling widely, and there are more gray streaks in her hair than the last time I saw her.
I catch her in a hug and bury my face against the side of her head, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of hair spray rather than the citrus aroma she used to carry. She must have been in the salon today. She cut down her cleaning hours after I left home and has been working toward an apprenticeship.
I’m so proud of her.
“I love you, Mom.”
She doesn’t let me go. “I love you too, my beautiful Echo. I missed you so much.”
I hug her back, not caring that most people would have separated by now. We aren’t most people, and that’s okay.
When Mom finally steps back, I reach for Tyler, grab his hand, and drag him forward.
“Mom, this is Tyler. Ty, my mom, Inez.”
He offers her his hand, brackets of strain around the corners of his mouth. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dean.”
Mom puts her hands on her curvaceous hips and studies him for a long moment. He squirms beside me. Finally, she smiles and—ignoring his hand—wraps her arms around him. My eyes fly to Tyler’s. The hug has clearly caught him off guard, but he doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, he might even enjoy her display of maternal affection.
“Please, call me Inez,” Mom says as she pulls away. “Congratulations on winning the championship.”
“Thank you.” He blushes. “We worked hard for it, and I’m glad we got there, but honestly, I’ve been more worried about today.”
Mom tilts her head, understanding in her eyes. “Come inside. I made cookies. We can eat them while we get to know each other better. Leave your bags for now. We can get them later.”
“Okay.” He seems relieved she’s willing to let him inside the house. He takes my hand as we approach the porch, and Mom presses herself against my side. We’ve always been affectionate, but we became more so in the aftermath of The Incident.
At the door, Tyler lets me go and bends to remove his shoes.
“Don’t worry about it unless they’re filthy,” Mom says.
He checks the soles of his shoes, then shows them to me, concern creasing his forehead. “What do you think? I should probably take them off, just to be safe.”
My heart aches at his uncertainty, which reminds me that not all parents are as accepting as my mom. He’s already told me how his dad used to make a fuss if his mom missed so much as a speck of dust.
“They’re fine,” I assure him.
He takes them off anyway.
The mouthwatering aroma of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven permeates the house. Mom leads us down the hall to the living room, where a plate of cookies sits in the center of the coffee table. A mug sits next to it, and I can smell coffee brewing. Mom doesn’t have a fancy machine, but she splurges on good filter coffee.
“Do you like cream with your coffee?” she asks Tyler.
He hesitates. “Do you have half and half?”
“Absolutely.”
He relaxes. “I’ll have that please. Plenty of it.”
She laughs. “A man after my own heart.”
She heads into the attached kitchen—which is more of a kitchenette, really—and prepares two mugs of coffee. I have no doubt there’s already a scoop of hot cocoa and a splash of caramel sauce in mine. Tyler and I sit on the sofa, leaving the armchair behind the coffee mug free. When she brings the drinks over, Tyler thanks her.
We sit, and Mom takes a cookie. I grab one too, hoping that Tyler will calm down a bit if we keep up a non-threatening stream of actions.
He tastes the coffee. “This is really good, Mrs.—uh, Inez. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Tyler.”
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. A bead of sweat has formed at his hairline and is trickling down the side of his face.
“I appreciate you being willing to have me here.” He wipes his palms on his jeans. “First off, I just want to apologize for how I hurt Echo in the past. I know I did wrong by her, and I can hardly believe she’s forgiven me. I know what I did wasn’t okay, and I don’t take her for granted. I’m grateful every day she’s with me.”
The groove between Mom’s eyebrows fades. “Thank you for saying that, but Echo is the only one you owe an apology to, and since she’s forgiven you, it would be ridiculous of me not to. Just don’t hurt her again, or I’ll hunt you down.”
No one laughs.
Maybe she meant it to come across as a joke, but we all know it isn’t one. Mom would have torn Eric Weston apart if she’d had the chance, and I have no doubt she’ll fight for me in the future if it comes to that.
But I don’t think it will.
“I won’t ever hurt her like that again,” he promises. “And if I do, I’ll be first in line to kick my own ass. Uh, sorry for cursing.”
A glimmer of amusement enters her eyes. “Cursing is fine as long as it isn’t at someone. Right, Echo?”
I wince, because I sure have done a lot of cursing at Tyler this year. “Um, yeah.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, but I don’t mind him silently calling me on the fib because at least it means he’s less preoccupied with the idea that my mom hates him.
Mom offers Tyler a cookie, and he takes it, looking at the treat as if he isn’t quite sure what to do with it. That’s when I remember what Soraya said about junk food being outlawed in his house growing up. I doubt his mom ever made him cookies.
Slowly, he nibbles at the edge. A chunk breaks off and falls on his lap. He stares at it, then snatches it up and shoves it in his mouth.
“Delicious,” he mumbles around the cookie.
Mom beams. “I’m glad you like it. And Tyler, back in high school, you were only a kid. You did your best. Plus, Echo tells me that we have you to thank for the attorney. It meant a lot to have that support.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he grits out, glancing at the cookie as if contemplating whether to swallow it whole.
She shrugs. “Then I guess you have plenty of time to make up for it. You are intending to be with Echo long term, aren’t you?”
“As long as she’ll have me.” He gives in and eats the cookie, his eyes almost closing as he chews and swallows.
“I need the recipe,” I mouth to Mom.
She nods and gives me a thumbs up.
We talk for a while longer, and then we work together to make sandwiches for lunch. After we’ve eaten, Tyler tells me to grab my purse and pulls me toward the door. I look around at Mom, expecting her to be surprised, but she’s just nodding and smiling.
What’s happening?
“Where are we going?” I ask as he guides me out the door and to his car.
“A surprise.”
That’s all he’ll say. I pester him during the short drive, but he refuses to elaborate.
When we arrive at the high school, my stomach plummets.
“Should we be here?” I ask.
I don’t want to be here. My last few months of school flash through my mind like a horror film. The taunts and jeering, first because of Tyler’s public rejection and then because I’d dared to accuse one of their kings of rape.
As if reading my mind, Tyler takes my hand and raises it to his lips. “Trust me.”
He releases me, gets out of the car, and walks around to open my door. I let him help me out, and I cling to his hand even though I know, logically, that I’m not going to encounter Eric or Whitney walking the halls. They’re long gone.
“Ty?”
“I’ve got you,” he says, gently tucking my hair behind my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
I nod.
Hand in hand, he walks with me around the administration buildings. It takes far too long for me to realize that we’re heading for the school gymnasium. The same building where I watched him kiss Whitney and shatter my heart the night we were supposed to announce our relationship.
My heart hammers. Why is he doing this? Why would he push me to go somewhere he knows will be painful for me?
“I’m with you,” he murmurs. “You’ll never be left in the cold like that again.”
His words soothe me, but I can’t completely let go of the unease as we approach those massive double doors. When we’re only twenty yards away, I frown. There’s music playing from within, but surely, on a weekend like today, the gym should be empty. I concentrate, but the music is too quiet for me to identify.
We reach the doors, and Tyler takes a deep breath. He pushes the door open and holds it for me. I take a moment to steel myself. Even if all that’s inside are a few basketballs and a stereo, this still won’t be easy. Finally, I lift my eyes and follow him inside.
I gasp, my heart skittering wildly.
I look around, stunned and bewildered. The gymnasium has been transformed. The lights have been dimmed, and silver and blue balloons hang from the ceiling. The walls are covered with black fabric, and Dua Lipa plays through the speakers. It’s an older song, from a few years ago.
That’s when it hits me.
“Oh, my God.” I whirl around to face Tyler. “It’s prom!”
The song changes to something slower.
He shuffles from foot to foot, obviously uncertain. “Will you dance with me?”
I still can’t get my mind around what’s happening, but I allow him to guide me into a dance. We sway together, our bodies brushing with each movement. He dips me and spins me with more grace than I could have imagined. I hold onto him as tightly as I can.
When the song ends, he stills, and cups my face between his hands. He kisses me, slowly and tenderly. My toes curl and I smile against his mouth. I can’t believe he’s done this.
He pulls back, just enough to speak. “This is the prom we should have had. I should have danced with you, kissed you, and told everyone how proud I was to be with you. I’m sorry I didn’t, but I swear things will be different this time.”
I brush my lips against his. “I know they will. You’ve already shown me that.”
“Good.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “There’s a suit and a dress in the changing rooms. What do you say we dress up and dance some more?”
“Really? You bought me a dress?”
He runs his hand through his hair, his expression turning sheepish. “I paid. Your mom chose it. She’s the one who helped me organize all of this.”
I shake my head, hardly able to believe it considering how nervous he was to meet her in person, but at the same time, it makes perfect sense considering how they both seemed to be in on a secret earlier. As the school cleaner, Mom has the connections to make this happen.
“Thank you.” I wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek over his heart.
He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll dance with you every day if it makes you happy.”
When I’ve had my fill of hugging him, we change into our prom clothes. I can’t help noticing how similar mine is to the one I wore that night. Mom must have done that purposefully.
We dance and laugh and kiss, and it’s nothing like our actual prom was.
It’s a hundred times better.