Chapter 30 Sabrina
That week, I do my best to focus on all the problems that need solving.
I’m not willing to let homecoming go without a fight, so I make a laundry list of possible venues in my planner.
It stretches over multiple pages, but as soon as I look into each of them, they get crossed off one by one.
My notebook gains so many coffee stains, pages ripped through from violent crossing out, that it begins to resemble an artifact recovered from some madman’s lair.
I’m not sleeping more than a few solid hours a night, and whenever I wake up, my mind starts racing so fast, I can’t fall back into comforting unconsciousness. There’s more to do than time to do it in, I can’t come up with any real solutions… and I can’t stop thinking about Tyler.
The way he instantly arrived to help me out when my dumb car finally broke all the way down. The way he let Ryan and me talk, his hands in his pockets and back turned to give us privacy. The way he squawked from the back seat when Ryan started recounting the story of our aborted make-out session.
I frown, doodling in the margins of my to-do list. The idea of taking Tyler up on his offer to talk at the Lakeside is both intoxicating and terrifying.
The last time I witnessed an honest conversation about secrets and betrayal, it did not end well.
I can still see my mom’s face scrunched up in hurt and anger, my dad’s wide eyes as he tried to backpedal out of his guilt.
The weeks of fighting that ensued. The way they can’t even talk to each other anymore now.
I bite my lip, staring out the dark window. I’ve done everything to avoid another confrontation since. I’m not used to them making things better instead of worse.
But I got mad at Ryan—unfiltered, no-holds-barred, mad—and he actually apologized.
If even playboy Ryan can do that…
Until a few days ago, I would have said in no uncertain terms that Tyler was the best guy I knew. And it takes no small amount of courage to invite me to talk the way he has. When his ex never trusted his side of the story, can I really let him believe I wouldn’t even hear him out?
I slam my journal shut. I’m not getting anything done until I settle things with him.
I step through the door of the Lakeside an hour before closing, the bell over the door jingling as I enter. Lindsey waves, face lighting up. “Sabrina, hey! Haven’t seen you in a minute!”
I can feel Tyler’s eyes on me from the counter, where he’s pouring coffee for a couple sitting at the end. “Oh crap!” His voice cuts through the diner as he sloshes coffee onto the counter. “Sorry, let me clean that up…”
I force myself to smile back at Lindsey, ignoring the guy hastily mopping up a spill while his eyes stay fixed on me. “It’s been a busy start to the year.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her smirk is knowing as she hands me a menu. “Want to sit at the counter?”
“Sure.” I shrug, doing my best to play it off all casual, but I know I’m not fooling anyone.
I’m dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, but I put on extra lip gloss and wore my favorite perfume, and, oh God, I’m nervous.
Guys don’t make me nervous! I force myself to take a deep breath as I slide onto an empty stool. Be cool, Sabrina. You’re Sabrina.
But Tyler heads my way immediately, and my stomach does a belly flop. Very much the opposite of cool.
“You came,” he says, dark eyes holding mine. They’re so earnest and relieved that all I can do is wish I’d come sooner.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard, trying to get my breathing under control. “Are you busy…?”
He starts to shake his head. But then someone calls “Tyler!” from the kitchen, and he grimaces.
“I guess I am,” he says with a wince, backing away. “I’ll be right back.” He points at me as if to say, Don’t go anywhere, and I fold my hands primly on the counter. Just like last time.
He breaks into a grin before turning the corner.
The place is nearly as empty as it was for our date, though nothing like the romantic, deserted diner he’d engineered for us last time. A few groups murmur in the booths by the windows, and the couple at the end of the counter finishes their decaf before heading to the register to pay.
There’s a gentle clink as Tyler sets a strawberry milkshake in front of me.
I stare at it for a moment, stupidly overcome with emotion.
All the memories of our date come rushing back, and I have to blink hard.
I really, really want things to be okay between us again.
We’ve never been easy on paper, but we’ve always been easy in person.
As much as I wanted to avoid conflict this year, Tyler has been worth every bit.
I sip on my shake, watching him finish busing his tables, until it’s just me and an older couple eating chili by the window. Tyler checks on them one more time, and then he hurries back to the counter.
“Sorry to make you wait.” He folds his forearms on the counter and bends forward, toward me. I fight to keep my eyes on his. Not drifting toward his lips. “But I should be good to talk for a while now.”
“Good.” I take a deep breath. It’s now or never, Sabrina.
Maybe getting the whole truth out there can be good sometimes, even if it ends in a fight.
There’s no way to know unless you try. “Will you please tell me the whole story, from your side?” I pause, watching the way his face relaxes at my words.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get it sooner, but I want to hear it now. ”
“It’s okay,” Tyler says in one relieved rush, biting his lip. He looks over his shoulder for a moment, as if centering himself, before he turns back to me. “I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I guess because it’s kind of messy. I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
I wince. “Well, yeah, I did say a thing or two about wanting a drama-free senior year.” I lean forward, fighting the urge to touch his arm.
“But you’ve shown me who you are since the first day I met you.
You’ve been so generous, and the kind of listener who helped me talk about all sorts of things I didn’t think I could share, and really brave, to start all over in a new town and give us so much without expecting anything back—” I clear my throat.
“So. If we need to get through a little messy, maybe that’s not so bad.
Maybe it’s how we get to all that good stuff.
” Tyler’s eyes are wide, drinking in every detail of my face.
I nod decisively. “What I’m trying to say is: I’m listening. ”
Tyler braces his hands against the counter as if to steady himself. He blinks hard, then gives me a tiny nod back. “Okay. So last spring, there was this argument between John and Dylan, two guys on the Brownsville team. I’ve known Dylan all my life. He’s a vegetarian. Totally harmless.”
The pit in my belly tells me this isn’t heading anywhere good. “And John? Not so harmless?”
Tyler frowns. “No. Problem with the off-season is that guys have time to get into trouble. John went out with Dylan’s sister—which is already dangerous territory, you gotta be careful with that shit—but then when we were hanging out one night, he made a… comment about it.”
My stomach turns. “What kind of comment?”
Tyler shakes his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“I can’t repeat it. But just know that whatever you’re imagining, it was worse.
” His fingers flex on the counter, as if he’s white-knuckling his way through that moment all over again.
“So, I don’t blame Dylan for getting physical.
He shoved John—which didn’t even leave a mark, and any guy with sense would’ve realized, ‘Okay, I overstepped. Time to apologize and walk away.’ ”
I grimace. “I’m not gathering that John’s a guy with sense.”
Tyler’s face darkens, and all I can hear is the clinking of forks and the washing of dishes in the back as I hold my breath.
“Not so much. He took a swing at Dylan. Missed, but it sure didn’t help the situation.
Dylan really went after him then—tried to tackle him—and that’s when I got involved.
” He takes a deep breath and leans toward me.
I can tell he’s forcing himself to tell me what happens next.
Probably reliving the moments when he did the same before and no one believed him.
“Sabrina, my whole job on the team is protecting my guys. It’s instinct to put myself between them and a hit from the other side.
When John went for Dylan—and after everything he said about his sister—well, he suddenly looked a lot like the other team.
” He frowns. “Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved. But I couldn’t help it.”
My eyes burn unexpectedly. Of course that was his instinct. Tyler, who was out the door after one phone call from me—who defuses my stress as soon as he clocks it.
I can’t picture Tyler fighting, but I think I get it. His eyes are still fixed on my face, searching for any sign of—what, disgust? Fear? But all I feel is sadness as I imagine where this story is going. I nod.
A muscle clenches in Tyler’s jaw as he continues. “But John was seeing red, so then he took a swing at me—”
I can’t help it: I gasp. “Did he hurt you? If he did, I’m about to march straight over to beat up John What’s-His-Name myself—” My phone’s halfway out of my pocket to map the distance, but I frown. “Forgot my car’s out of commission. What’re the buses like between here and Brownsville?”
Tyler shakes his head, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself.
“Stand down, blondie. I swung back to defend myself. And…” Tyler’s expression turns distant, and I know he’s replaying the moment like a movie in his mind.
“John fell. I didn’t even swing that hard, but he must have been off-balance.
That’s all I can guess, every time I try to figure it out.
But he got hurt pretty bad, and Dylan and I walked away with barely a few scrapes and bruises. I’ve been in worse shape after a game.”
His jaw is gritted and his expression resolved. I know how hard it is for him to share so vulnerably, unsure if he’ll be believed.
“I took the most blame,” he says in one breath.
“Coach told me he knew it probably wasn’t my fault—I had a clean record, never fought in my life, lived and died for that team—but the athletic department’s code of conduct is really strict about fighting.
And it was all so messy, and John was insisting Dylan came at him unprovoked, so it was kinda he said, he said.
The whole school was talking about it, and this season’s team was going to be jeopardized because of it, and…
well, I’ve been regretting taking that swing ever since. ”
His voice almost breaks on the last word, and I reach out to cover his hand with one of mine, no longer able to hold back the urge.
What torture that must have been for Tyler, the guy who always looks out for everyone around him, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
He didn’t need to be punished—he was already punishing himself enough.
After a moment, he swallows hard and continues.
“Coach had no choice. I was supposed to be expelled, but he made a few calls to help me transfer instead. I was just grateful for anything that gave me a chance of a semi-normal senior year. So my aunt and uncle offered to put me up, and the Hamilton Lakes team took me in, and…” He spreads his hands. “Here I am. Full, ugly truth.”
“Not that ugly,” I say.
His eyes are locked on mine, and I try to beam whatever reassurance I can into him. Reassurance that facing the ugly stuff is worth it. That I’m still here on the other side of it. That maybe getting it all out can bring us closer together than ever.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say.
“I just wish I’d shared the whole story the last time we were here. Then we could’ve avoided all of this.” He grimaces.
I shrug. “Me too. But honestly? I understand why you didn’t. No one believed you before. Why would I be any different?” I lean forward over the counter and press a soft, impulsive kiss to his cheek. And then I whisper in his ear, “But I do. I am.”
Before I can draw back, Tyler’s hand goes to my neck, holding my cheek gently against his. And then he turns to brush his nose against mine in the most unexpected, tender alternative to a kiss. While I’m frozen, heart fluttering, he breathes, “I know you are.”
After a moment pressed together, just like that, I draw back and settle myself on my stool again. Warmth fills my chest as we smile at each other, and I know with total certainty: Everything is going to be just fine.
“So…” He clears his throat. “How’re things going with homecoming?”
I groan, plopping unceremoniously back down to Earth.
“Horrible. There aren’t any venues in town that are big enough to take us and fit our budget.
Lindsey offered the diner, which is very sweet, but people are expecting a dance.
Lights! Music! A dance floor! Decorations!
” I shake my head, the same feeling of failure dropping back into my stomach.
“I’m going to be the first Spirit Committee president to not deliver a dance. That will be my Hamilton Lakes legacy.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” A smile stretches across Tyler’s face, and I feel my first glimmer of hope in a long time.