Tyler
What the fuck was that noise?
I shot upright, heart palpitating like I’d been yanked out of a nightmare.
My vision was blurred and for a second, I thought I’d imagined it because I was for sure still in a jet lagged fog.
Then came a clumsy scrape, the sound of someone fumbling with a keycard, a dull thud that sounded like a shoulder leaning too hard against my door.
I turned to my nightstand, flipped on the light which scorched my newly awake eyes and checked my phone. Midnight. Jesus. Some drunk idiot had the wrong room.
I shoved myself out of bed, and scrubbed a hand down my face, I tugged on my flannel pajama bottoms from the chair in the bedroom and padded barefoot across the carpet.
My leg ached, my head was foggy, and my eyes were still barely adjusting to the light.
I was already rehearsing the polite ‘wrong door, buddy’ I’d give whoever was about to face-plant into my suite.
I twisted the brass handle and yanked it open…
And Orla Sheehan came tumbling straight through it.
I couldn’t really describe it as a stumble.
She’d obviously been braced against the door with her whole weight, keycard clutched uselessly in her hand, and the second it swung open she fell forward with zero chance of catching herself.
Arms flailing, hair flying, the curse she was about to give swallowed as she hit me at full force.
I caught her on instinct, hands sliding under her soft arms to keep her upright, her palms landing flat on my bare chest. Her body was warm but useless, smelling faintly of bourbon mixed with her familiar amberwood and vanilla. She blinked up at me like she’d just realized gravity existed.
“Shit,” she muttered, breath hot against my skin. “This…this isn’t my room.”
My brain lagged, trying to catch up. She was still in my arms, liquid and off-balance, the scent of alcohol curling off her like smoke. For weeks I’d wanted nothing more than a moment where Orla Sheehan was finally in my arms, but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.
“Orla,” I breathed, tightening my grip before she could slide right out of it. “Jesus, you’re half on the floor.” I laughed cautiously.
She blinked again, swaying. “Thought this was mine,” she mumbled and then her knees gave out completely.
“Whoa…easy.” I scooped her upright, guiding her inside before she could collapse in the hallway. The door clicked shut behind us as I half-carried her into the room. She sank into the nearest chair like her bones had quit on her, head lolling back and that thick, dark hair wild around her face.
I crouched in front of her, chest still heaving with worry. I guided her chin toward me gently, so that she had to meet my eyes. “Hey. Look at me. You good?”
Her eyes fought to focus, lids heavy. “Mhm. Much better now, actually.” She tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing. Nothing like the one she gave me when she was trying not to laugh at my bullshit.
The flush in her cheeks wasn’t healthy, it was a glow that only came from too much booze and utter exhaustion—a look I knew better than most people. Her lashes were damp like she’d been crying again before she even made it upstairs which, given her current state, surprised me she’d made it at all.
The sight of her gutted me. Whatever this was, whatever had sent her fumbling into my room, drunk at midnight, she wasn’t okay.
“Orla,” I said softly, steadying my voice so she didn’t hear the panic underneath. “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
Her gaze flicked away, mouth pressing into a hard line, but her chin trembled just enough to undo her.
That was it. She was hurt. Split right down the middle. I’d taken hits on court that hurt less than the sight of her wiped-out like this.
Her glassy eyes slid back to mine unsteadily, then she said the last thing I expected.
“You’re really pretty, you know that?”
I huffed out a laugh, though my chest was tight. “That so?”
“Prettier than my ex.” She paused, squinting like she was trying to line me up. “Waaaay prettier.”
There it was. The dent in her armor.
I leaned in a little, elbows on my knees and drew a breath in preparation for what came next “Okay. What did he do?”
Her laugh was sharp and bitter. “It’s what he didn’t do, Tyler. He didn’t tell me the truth. Lied straight to my fucking face.”
I stayed quiet, letting her speak. I could hear the hurt in her voice cracking as she spoke. Tears rimmed her beautiful, hazel eyes, threatening to spill like a broken dam.
“He told me he didn’t want kids. That was his reason.
Said he couldn’t see himself as a dad, wasn’t built for it, blah blah.
” Her voice hitched as she spoke, but she pushed through.
“And then today I see this picture…him and his new girlfriend, showing off an ultrasound of their baby like it’s the best news in the fucking world. ”
My jaw locked, Jesus, what a fucking asshole. That explained everything. The text, the tears, the performance she put on downstairs. She was bleeding it out and she didn’t even know it. The knowledge that she’d kept this in all day, on her own, almost broke me.
“Jesus, Orla.”
“Right?” she snapped, eyes blazing suddenly. “It’s fucking shitty.” She jabbed a finger sharply into my chest. Harder with each word. “So. Fucking. Shitty.”
I caught her wrist gently before she poked a hole straight through me. “Yeah. It is. I’m sorry.” I said firmly.
She leaned back, then forward again, restless as I still had hold of her wrist. “He was a coward. Should’ve just said I wasn’t good enough.”
That cut through me like a knife.
“Hey.” I leaned closer frowning, my voice firmer than I’d ever used with her before. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever fucking say that again. You hear me?” I’d never spoken to her like that before, but hearing her tear herself down lit something fierce and protective in me.
Her lips parted. She didn’t look away, even as her eyes clouded with a glassy sheen. For a second, she looked lost, fractured in a way she’d never let anyone see before.
She let out the most jagged laugh I’d ever heard and looked down at the floor. “Guess I should’ve just told you all this when we first met. So you could run screaming.”
“Orla…”
“This is me Tyler,” she yelled, the delicate strap of her yellow sundress slipping off her shoulder. “A stupidly emotional, slightly unhinged, biologically-ticking-time-bomb of a woman who just wants a family and someone to love her back.”
Fuck. My chest tightened until it was a struggle to breathe.
I looped a finger into the stray strap, tracing the line of her skin as I replaced it, my knuckles skimming the warmth of her shoulder.
I didn't want to let go. Instead, I caught her gently by both shoulders, holding her there until she had no choice but to look at me.
“You’re not unhinged,” I said, every word deliberate. “You’ve had a rough fucking day, you’re drunk, and your ex is a piece of shit. That’s it. That’s the whole story.”
She blinked hard, like she couldn’t quite believe me. “And you don’t want to run a mile after hearing all that?”
I shook my head. “No. Wanting something real doesn’t make you broken.”
She searched my eyes for a moment, her breath catching slightly. And then she grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me like she’d run out of reasons not to.
No warning. No hesitation. Just crashed her mouth to mine like she’d decided fuck it. Her hands gripped around my bare biceps, desperate, and I swear I’d never wanted anything more.
I kissed her back, of course I did; I couldn’t stop myself.
One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist, dragging her close.
She was fire and ache and every fucking dream I’d had since London.
Her trembling hands slid up my chest. My fingers skimmed the hem of her dress, tracing the soft, forbidden heat of her bare skin until they found the delicate edge of the lace at her hip.
I was drowning in her. My tongue slid desperately against hers, but as I deepened the kiss I tasted the sharp, medicinal bitterness of the bourbon she’d practically bathed in.
Thats when I stopped.
My whole body screamed to keep going, but something in my chest pulled the brake. Every cell in my body screamed yes but the part of me that cared so deeply for her whispered “Not like this.”
Not when she was shattered and drunk and bleeding out old wounds in my arms. Every muscle in my body went to war with me, begging me to keep going, but something deeper, something that cared about her more than I cared about breathing, refused to budge.
I broke the kiss, forehead still pressed to hers, panting. “Orla,” I whispered with a hoarse sound. “God, I want to. You have no idea how badly. But not like this. Not tonight.”
She froze and her face crumpled. Then, the tears came like the dam she’d been bracing all evening had finally burst.
I didn’t think, just pulled her into me, wrapping her tight, letting her bury her face against my shoulder.
Her fingers clutched at me like I was the only solid thing left, and I held on, murmuring nothing words, rubbing her back until the sobs eased.
I’d never had this before. Never had anyone trust me enough to fall apart in my arms.
I felt her ragged breaths begin to ebb, she was limp against me and completely wrung out. I stood carefully, guided her to the bed and tucked her under the cool, white covers like she was something fragile I had to protect with my whole damn life.
I brushed a hand over her hair that was softer than I’d ever imagined. I lingered slightly, trying to soothe away the chaos of the night with just my touch. “Sleep, Sheehan,” I whispered, planting a delicate kiss she would never have noticed on her head. “You’re safe.”
I grabbed a pillow from beside her and stretched out on the small, velvet patterned sofa, staring at the ceiling with my heart firmly lodged in my throat.
Turns out tomorrow I’d wake up with a tight hamstring and a sore neck, but I didn’t care. I’d have slept on hardwood, on concrete, out on the carpet in the fucking hallway. It didn’t matter.
I stared at her for a while as she slept ,watching her breathe, finally at peace. I doubted she’d remember half of it tomorrow, and a part of me felt a sharp, hollow pang at that. But accident or not, I was glad I was the one she came to.
I closed my eyes and sank my head back into the cool, hard hotel pillow, adjusting it to try and seek some semblance of comfort. I finally exhaled. She was safe and she was here. With me.