Chapter 7
MELISSA
Judging from the somber look on Tyler’s face, I have a feeling I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.
His brows are drawn down, forming fine lines between them.
His mouth is pinched into an unhappy line.
He’s not leaning easily against the doorframe, like he usually does when he comes to check on me.
Instead, he’s standing stiffly in the middle of the bedroom doorway, his shoulders tense and his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Melissa,” he starts, and his solemn tone sends my stomach swooping down to my feet.
Not just that, but his use of my full name, which he’s taken to using less and less over the last few days.
When we first met in Long Lake, he called me Melissa.
In the hospital, it occasionally shifted to Mel.
And during the two days he’s been at my house, that’s what he calls me almost exclusively.
So the return to my full name doesn’t bode well.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask wryly, deciding to use humor in an attempt to defuse my leaping nerves.
It doesn’t work, because I still feel just as anxious.
And in the seconds it takes for Tyler to respond, my mind darts off into dark and dangerous places, imagining the multitude of bad answers he could give me.
The police found out about the drugs and they’re coming here to arrest you.
The team discussed it, and we need to leave. There are other clients who need us more. Other clients without a suspicious history.
I found evidence that you made everything up. You lied to me, Melissa. You’re on your own from here.
Intellectually, I know the odds of any of those things happening are low.
First, the police haven’t caught my attacker yet—at least, not as of this morning—so there would be no reason for them to suspect me of selling drugs unless Tyler or one of his friends told them.
And despite my proclivity towards pessimism, I don’t think they would do that.
I also don’t think the Blade and Arrow guys would just up and leave. They’re far too professional. Their company doesn’t have the reputation of being one of the best in the country for no reason, after all. So it stands to reason, once they take on a job, they’ll stick with it.
As for Tyler finding evidence of me lying? I don’t know how that would be possible, since I’ve been honest with him from the start.
Even so, I can’t help being nervous.
More than that, I’m scared.
What if Tyler has to leave for another reason? What if he’s needed back in Oregon to investigate another case? And he’s about to tell me he’s leaving me in the capable hands of his teammates?
It’s not that I don’t think Webb, Indy, and Levi can’t do the job. It’s just… I don’t want Tyler to leave.
“Why would you think you’re in trouble?” Tyler asks. His solemn expression changes to one of confusion. “Did I say something to make you think you are?”
“No,” I hurriedly reply. “You didn’t say anything like that. I just…”
What? Leapt to the worst possible conclusion again? Spent more time than I’d like to admit studying Tyler and how he looks and acts, so any small shift in his behavior throws me into a tailspin?
“What?” Tyler encourages. As he walks into my bedroom, concern softens his gaze. “Is something wrong, Mel? If there is, you can tell me.”
My stomach unclenches a bit when he switches from Melissa to Mel. He wouldn’t call me by a nickname if he was upset with me, I reason. He wouldn’t have that worried look in his eyes if he was.
I set my book down on the bed, and Tyler follows my movement. Before I can answer his question, he says, “I hope you’re not spending too much time reading. You know what the doctor said—”
The pressure on my chest releases a little at his obvious concern. “I know. I’ve only been reading for twenty minutes or so. Not too long.”
Tyler stares at me for a second. Then his features relax into a smile. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he adds, “I know you think I’m being bossy.”
“No, I don’t.”
Okay. He’s a little bossy when it comes to my health and safety. But how can I be upset about that?
Tyler grins. “Yes, you do. I can tell.”
“How?” I ask.
“It’s this look you get,” he replies. “You get a little line right here.” He traces his finger across my forehead. “And your chin”—he moves his finger to it—“gets this stubborn tilt to it.”
My skin heats where he touches me, and as I look into his eyes, there’s something deep and unreadable within that makes my breath catch. Any possible responses scatter like dandelion seeds on the wind. All I can think about is how good this feels.
But all too soon, Tyler’s hand falls from my face. He gives his head an almost imperceptible shake. “So,” he continues. “Why did you think you were in trouble?”
I take a steadying breath to regain my composure. “It’s stupid, really.”
Tyler frowns. “Nothing you say is stupid, Mel. I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
“It was just how you looked,” I admit. “Your expression. You looked unhappy. And your posture…”
“What about it?”
“You looked stiff. Uncomfortable. Like you have to tell me something I’m not going to like. Plus, you called me Melissa—” My mouth snaps shut.
“But it’s your name,” he says, his face clouding with confusion. “Why would you think—” Abruptly, he stops. Confusion makes way for understanding. “I pulled the classic parent move, didn’t I?”
Now I’m the one who’s confused. “The parent move?”
“Yeah. When I was a kid, my parents always called me Ty. But when I was in trouble—really in trouble, like when I took apart my dad’s brand new computer—they would call me by my full name.” His voice deepens. “Tyler James McNamara. Get in here right now.”
I can’t help laughing. “My parents used to do that, too.” Imitating my mother’s voice, I say, “Melissa Grace Robertson. What on earth were you thinking?”
Tyler laughs with me. “Yup, that sounds about right.” After a beat, he says, “Melissa Grace Robertson, huh? That’s a nice name.”
Nodding, I reply, “Yeah, it’s not too bad. Not like some of the names I’ve heard. I actually thought about keeping my maiden name when I got married—I’m the last on my dad’s side of the family—but I knew it meant a lot to Vince that I took his name. So…” I shrug. “Now I’m Silver, instead.”
Except I’m not really a Silver anymore, I almost say. Not with Vince gone.
But as soon as that thought flashes through my mind, another one replaces it.
What if I took another last name one day?
Tyler studies me for a long moment before responding thoughtfully, “Yeah, I can see that. When I was younger, I felt the same way. Now… I’m not sure it would matter as much to me. Not as long as she’s happy…” His cheeks go pink. “Anyway. You’re not in trouble, Mel. And I’m sorry I made you worry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Just my overactive imagination taking off again.”
But the silence that follows makes me wonder if I wasn’t wrong, after all. “Did you find out something?” I ask. “News about my attacker? Or one of the incidents at work?”
Tyler shakes his head. “Still nothing, unfortunately. I hacked into the security system at your office building to check the archived footage. But the existing cameras only covered the entrances and the lobby. So there’s not a lot to go on.
” His jaw tightens. “And still no luck on the man who attacked you. I’m sorry.
I’m searching the traffic cameras in the area, but your neighbors don’t have doorbell cameras—”
“I should have gotten one. I just never imagined something like this…”
He covers my hand with his. “It’s not your fault.”
“But you wouldn’t have to spend so much time searching if I had.”
“That’s not necessarily true. There are ways to get around them.
He could have destroyed it, or hacked into it, or…
Anyway. That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is finding that asshole and punishing him for what he did.
Plus figuring out who’s behind the other incidents.
Which means—” He grimaces. “I think it’s time to talk about the people who might have motive to do this. ”
My stomach knots. I knew this was coming. I even offered to talk about it the day I got home. But Tyler pushed it off, insisting I needed to focus on my health. He said it would be too stressful on top of my injuries, and it wouldn’t hurt to wait a few days.
Honestly, I was glad for the reprieve, so I didn’t push it. Instead, I’ve been following doctor’s orders for the last two days, mostly resting except for short walks around the backyard with one of the Blade and Arrow guys close by for protection.
But I shouldn’t be surprised, given the lack of progress on my case, that Tyler would want to dive into my background.
I’m sure he’s done his research, but it’s not the same as hearing it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
Which means I’m going to have to tell him about all the people who might want to torment me. And the list isn’t going to be short.
Sighing, I say, “Okay. Do you want to do it now?”
Tyler’s thumb strokes across the back of my hand. “Not if you aren’t feeling up to it. If you’d rather wait until tomorrow, that’s okay. I think we should discuss it soon, yes, but your health comes first.”
I’m tempted to push the conversation off.
So far, today has been relatively pleasant, lingering concussion and broken wrist withstanding.
I woke up to a fresh-cooked breakfast from Tyler—who’s a surprisingly good cook, I’m discovering—followed by a lazy afternoon spent watching bits of Parks and Rec, cuddling with Oscar, and working on a jigsaw puzzle with Tyler and Indy.
Dinner was delivery from my favorite Italian restaurant in town, and I’ve been secretly hoping that Tyler might watch some TV in here with me before bed, like he has the two nights before.