Twelve.
Shea
His breath is warm against my lips as my eyes fall shut on the barest touch. The faintest taste of him hits me and I—
Ding. The elevator doors slide open.
We break apart suddenly and I want to whimper at the loss of the moment until his forehead drops to mine for one ragged second as reality surrounds us. And it’s not empty.
I lift my gaze to find Tyler crumpled against the suite door in the middle of the hall. Knees to his chest, hood up, face buried in his forearms, his shoulders doing that terrible silent shake that’s so much worse than crying out loud.
“Tyler.” I’m out of the elevator the moment I realize what’s happening, my slippers slapping the carpet.
His head comes up. His face a blotchy, wet mess. He looks so young without the scowl he usually wears like armor. He scrubs at it like he can wipe his feelings away. “I d-don’t have my keycard.” He gestures helplessly at the door. “I can’t get in.”
My chest cracks straight down the middle.
I feel Rhett following close behind me, and I turn. He’s already got his keys in his hand, and he gives me the smallest nod in understanding. “You got this?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, glancing at Tyler, then back. “Thank you for all your help tonight. I’ll, um, call you later.” I lift up on my toes to peck him on the cheek. His rough stubble leaving a tingle on my lips as I fall back on my heels, peering up at him. “I promise.”
“Anytime,” he says with a half-smile, then takes his leave.
I take a deep breath before shifting my focus back to the broken boy now standing at the door, likely ready to get inside and hide like every other time—but not this time. I pull the keycard from the waistband of my pajama shorts and open the door with a swipe and a soft click.
The moment we’re inside, he makes a bee-line for his room. “Hold it.” I sigh, locking the deadbolt on the door behind me along with the chain lock. Tyler stops, but doesn’t face me. “Can we talk? Please?”
Without a word, he shuffles to the couch and takes a seat. I follow his lead and opt to sit perched on the coffee table, so he has no choice but to face me. When he refuses to make eye contact, or even have the first word, I start, “I’m sorry.”
He glances at me, confusion furrowing his reddened brow. “Why are you sorry?” he sniffles, swiping a sleeve over his snotty nose.
I fight down a gag. Ugh, boys.
“Because you didn’t ask for this,” I tell him truthfully. “You haven’t had much of a say in anything these last few weeks, and well, that’s just not fair. But, to quote the most unhelpful quote in history, life isn’t fair.”
He rolls his eyes.
“And you were right,” I admit, my hands in my lap as I try to find the words. “My dad…he did pass me off, a lot. All the time, actually. I had so many nannies; the hiring agency had to cross state lines just to find fresh resumes.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it.” My laugh leans a bit more self-deprecating than I’d like.
“My point is, I get it. And I don’t blame you for being upset and feeling like you’ve been abandoned.
” Tyler’s poor face twists in agony and I reach out to take his hand.
“It’s okay, Ty. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”
He shakes his head, his brown hair flopping over his forehead. “You can’t promise that,” he chokes out. “The second my mom gets back, I’ll be shipped off to that boarding school your dad was talking about. He told my mom he sent you there, too, said it was the best decision he ever made.”
My throat tightens. “He said that?” I know the school he’s talking about, and no, it was anything but a good decision. The staff was strict, the teachers were mean, and my high school years were riddled with performance anxiety and never feeling like my best was enough.
“I heard them talking about it a few days before they left. I don’t want to go there, Shea. I’ve heard stories about that place. It’s a prison,” he confesses, eyes glossy as he shrugs. “And my dad won’t answer my texts or calls. He just…bailed.”
This is the first I’ve heard anything about his biological father. I know better than to ask my father for the personal details, and I don’t know Michelle well enough yet to either. And, well, this is the most I’ve heard Tyler speak in the few weeks I’ve known him.
“I’m sorry about your dad.” I give his hand a gentle squeeze when he tries to pull away, not letting him shut down on me.
“My mom, she…she died when I was little. And I know it’s different, but I can tell you I certainly felt a lot of what you’re feeling now.
Lost, alone, not knowing where you fit into this world. ”
He nods faintly. “Yeah.”
“But I’m here,” I affirm. “And I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let them send you to that school, Ty. I mean it. I’ll do everything I can, I swear to you.”
Tyler’s arms fly out as he wraps them around me, hugging me long and hard as he continues to sniffle and cry softly. I hold him to me, rubbing his back and reassuring him a few times that everything really will be okay—and I mean every word of it.
When we finally separate, he does a sort of nod to himself. “You know, you are pretty cool for a stepsister.”
I beam at him. Gasping and dramatically holding a hand to my chest. “Cool? Me? No way!”
He rolls his eyes again, but this time, he’s smiling wide.
“I’ll tell you what, tomorrow, er, later today, let’s have a day together. Just you and me. We’ll go explore more of the town, maybe check out that mall in Billings Callie mentioned, I heard they have a Starbucks,” I sing-song.
“I dunno. Cup O’ Joe was really good, not gonna lie.”
I laugh at that, loving how this small-town seems to be growing on the both of us. “Yeah, they are pretty good, huh.”
He eyes me strangely for a second, then asks, “Were you and Rhett kissing in the elevator?”
My face heats and my mouth opens and closes like a fish for a brief, horrified I-don’t-know-how-to-answer-that moment. “Uh, well…”
“It’s cool,” he tells me with a shrug. “The guy is pretty dope, honestly.”
I smile as my chest warms at Tyler’s approval. I didn’t realize it was something I even wanted. “Yeah, he is.”
Tyler picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion, quiet for a moment. “He came, though, which was cool. My dad wouldn’t have done something like that.”
Oh, my heart. I just nod. “Yeah,” I say softly. “He did.”
Tyler clears his throat, deciding he’s met his feelings quota for the evening. “Anyway.” He scrubs the last of his face dry and settles into the sofa. “You should keep him. For the house stuff, or whatever.”
I bite back a smile. “Oh, yeah?”
He side-eyes me. “Yeah. The kissing is kinda gross, but I’ll allow it.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, tired and real. “Good to know.”
He yawns, jaw cracking wide as he reaches for the remote. “Can we watch something? I’m not tired.”
You’re exhausted, I think, and so am I. It’s nearing four in the morning and I promised him a day out in approximately six hours. “Sure,” I say, and drop onto the couch beside him.
He puts on a racecar movie, and within ten minutes, his head is heavy against my shoulder, breathing slow and even, fast asleep.
I sit in the blue light of the TV for a long while, thinking about the man who came when I called, and I let myself want—just for tonight—a version of my life where I don’t have to leave any of this behind.
The day ends up being exactly what we both needed.
We hit Billings by eleven, found the Starbucks Tyler had been mourning since California, and agreed that it somehow tasted worse than we remembered.
We tried two other coffee spots on the main strip purely out of spite—and scientific curiosity—and pulled back into Whitetail at half past four with four shopping bags, full stomachs from a late lunch, and a new budding, sibling relationship—something I never thought I’d experience.
I’d call today a win for sure.
And to top it off, throughout the day, Rhett was checking in.
Rhett: Good morning. You two doing good this AM?
Me: Very. We had a long talk and we have an understanding now. He’s a good egg.
Rhett: I’m glad y’all worked it out. What’re your plans for the day?
Me: Shopping, food, exploring the closest city you call Billings. LOL
Rhett: HAHA Enjoy!
Me: Tyler found a hoodie-only store, so we’ll probably be stuck here until next Thursday.
Rhett: Could be worse.
Shea: He’s been in there 20 minutes and is currently having a debate over what makes a sweater a sweater versus a sweatshirt. I don’t know this child.
Rhett: How are you doing?
I smiled at my phone for a full ten seconds before answering that one.
Shea: Better. Thank you again for last night.
Rhett: Anytime.
Now we’re back at the suite, bags dropped, shoes off, Tyler already horizontal on the couch when a knock sounds at the door.
I open it to find a girl about Tyler’s age—dark hair, bright eyes, and a shy look on a pretty face. She’s wearing a baggy sweater over jeans and I vaguely recognize her from somewhere…
“Hi.” She twists the cuffs of her sleeves in her hands.
“I’m Willa. My mom works here? We kind of met last night.
” She winces. “I’m really sorry about that.
The other guys kept saying five more minutes and Ty kept trying to leave but…
” She stops herself, and I appreciate the fact that she’s not throwing the other kids directly under the bus.
“I really, really am sorry. It won’t happen again. ”
I study her for a moment. Torn with believing her or suspecting Tyler put her up to this. Is she the reason for the cologne, I wonder.
“Willa,” Tyler says, appearing at my side rather quickly.
“Hey.” She lifts a hand in a small wave past my shoulder.
I look between them and something clicks quietly into place. I bite back a smile of any sort and attempt to play it cool for both their sakes. “Thank you for the apology, Willa. I appreciate it.”
She nods faintly, still twisting her sleeves. “I, um, was wondering if Ty could hang out? Just us? Those other guys were kind of jerks.” She laughs nervously as she eyes my stepbrother with a blush. “If you want, I mean, and if it’s okay with your sister?” she asks softly.
Be still my heart.
Tyler shifts beside me and I spare a glance at him. Oh, he’s blushing. Hard.
“Uh, yeah, totally,” he stumbles out, then locks eyes with me. “Shea?”
I cross my arms and hum loudly, putting on a bit of a show to keep them in suspense.
But who am I to stand in the way of young love?
“You have three hours. Grab food at the restaurant downstairs and charge it to the room. The arcade is fine, but no backrooms, please. Your phone stays on and I want a text every thirty minutes. Got it?”
Tyler’s smile is slow and wide. “Cool.”
“Go.” I wave a hand out the door. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
He hurries to pull his shoes back on and grabs his phone off the couch. When he passes, he pauses just long enough to say, “Thanks, Shea.” Then they’re off, smiling and chatting as they head straight for the elevator.
I close the door and laugh to myself before the suite falls quiet. It’s barely five o’clock and my whole evening is suddenly wide open.
I could order room service. I could sketch. I could call Callie or put on Fixer Upper and critique it with nobody to hear me.
Or…
I grab my jacket off the hook by the door, knowing exactly where I want to go.
And who I want to see.