Chapter Thirty-Three
TYLER
Sitting in front of my roaring fireplace, I sip a glass of bourbon with a book in hand. I couldn’t sleep, so here I am instead. Hopeful a book will distract me from my own mind, and a glass of bourbon will put to sleep the body that refuses to.
It’s supposed to be an early morning in the office to get a start on the Governor's campaign investment, but each tick of the clock tells me otherwise.
With a sigh, I rub my eyes and take another sip of the bourbon. The cruelest part of trauma is stealing sleep from a person who so desperately needs it.
Buzzing next to me, my phone lights with Sam’s name on the screen. No matter how many times this happens, it still doesn’t stop the kernel of panic that sets in when a phone call is received so late at night.
“Sam, are you okay?” I sit up, rubbing my eyes.
Greeted by pure reckless, high squealed chaos in the background, my sister squeaks and wails into the phone in a drunken mess. The shrills ring through my ears, making me pull the phone away.
“Sam, are you okay?” I ask again, my tone more urgent. I patiently wait until the chaos is cut flat by a piercing silence that almost makes me leap from the couch and track her location to make sure she’s safe.
“I’m fine!” she finally chimes. The vise around my heart decompresses and my shoulders slump in relief. “I need a favor,” she singsongs.
“Go on.” She either needs a ride or needs me to fuck someone up.
“So, I went out with some girlfriends and brought Sunny. She wants to leave, and she is adamant about walking. I obviously will not let her since it’s one in the morning. Can you come get her? She’s a little tipsy. I could call a car for her —”
“Yes,” I cut her off. “I’ll be right there.” I stand, running upstairs to throw some proper clothes on.
“Okay, I’m trying to get her to stay but she won’t have it.
Like I said, she's pretty drunk, so she’s being extra spicy right now,” Sam laughs.
“There’s a girl I have my eyes on, so I can’t leave, just yet.
If you know what I mean. Mace is my wing woman, so she is going to stay.
” I can practically hear my sister wiggle her eyebrows through the phone.
“Try and keep her there. Don’t let her go, Sam. I checked your location, it shouldn’t take me any longer than ten minutes tops.”
“Okay, brother. You’re the best!” Then the line goes dead.
Fucking Sunny. That gnawing feeling in my chest dissipates as I grab my keys and walk out of the door. Ready to cross that soul-bridge to get my girl.
I’m coming for you, Sunny.
SUNNY
I blink at Sam while she tries to hold me hostage here. Prior to this, I had an internal moment of panic—convinced I somehow saw Ryan in this giant apartment party, despite knowing it’s delusion.
“Sam, let me go,” I say through clenched teeth.
While I’m confident I’m stable on my feet, the world spinning as the alcohol buzzes through my veins tells me otherwise. All the more reason to leave before I make another mistake to add onto my list of too many.
Sam kept handing me drinks. One turned to two, turned to three. My guard has become too weak as I’ve grown more comfortable here. Tyler is proof of that. I still haven’t told Sam or Macey about Tyler. How can I?
By the way, Sam? Your brother fingered me by the staircase in his home Thanksgiving night while you and Mace slept right upstairs. My moans were so loud he had to cover my mouth with his hand. And I had one of the best damn orgasms of my life.
Yeah, I can’t tell her. Not yet, at least.
Standing in front of the apartment door, Sam picks her long purple nails, totally unamused by my attempt to escape. “I already told you, Tyler is coming to get you.”
“I don’t want Tyler to get me. I want to go home and be alone.”
“What has gotten into you tonight, Sunny?” Macey approaches.
I roll my eyes. “Do I have to say it in another language?”
“Listen, I know Tyler can be a little overprotective sometimes, but I called him here.” Sam watches me.
“I just want to go home on my own without an escort.”
I know I’m being a little unreasonable, but I want to go home, in my bed with comfy clothes on.
If Sam let me leave when I wanted to, I would’ve been home in bed already doing that.
Possibly hopping on the next flight out to get away from this almost Ryan.
I’m in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, late in the night. I want out.
“Too bad.” Sam continues to pick her nails, avoiding eye contact with me altogether.
Still standing as a barricade to the door that's my freedom. It only serves as a reminder to all the times Ryan wouldn’t let me leave our home.
He used every excuse, when in the end, it was ultimately a control thing.
A knock on the door jolts me out of my almost panic attack.
“Thank god.” Sam turns around, opening the door to a tired eyed Tyler. We stare at one another for a long moment. He watches me intently as his chest moves up and down steadily. I feel my pulse quicken and my breath hitch, becoming way too erratic.
“Sunny, don’t.” he takes a step forward, knowing exactly what’s going through my mind.
“What—” Sam starts.
Ignoring his words, I take off, sprinting past him and Sam and somehow managing to dodge the arm he tries to wrap around my waist. My heart’s thrumming wildly in my chest, but I’m free from that apartment.
I’m free.
“Sunny!” I hear both Tyler and Sam call.
Hurried footsteps chasing after me makes my heart beat even harder. Tyler’s tall, which means tall legs that can outrun me.
Running down the hall and the stairs into the lobby, my long-lost athleticism from high school decides to make an appearance tonight. The guard at the desk eyes me and stands as I jet past, but he soon notices Tyler chasing after me.
“It’s fine!” Tyler yells, following behind me.
I burst through the doors, and the cold November air knocks me almost sober. I gulp up its crisp, seething bite in my throat and lungs.
“Sunny!”
My heart is rampant in my chest, heaving up and down as I try to get my bearings to where I am and how I can get home. I blink rapidly as I sway on my feet, trying to remember which way we came.
Before I can dash to my escape, I feel his strong, scarred arm curl around my waist. I fight him—kicking and flinging my fists with no rhythm or purpose.
“Let me go!” I grit through my teeth.
I try to break from his hold, but my normally average body is small compared to his, thrashing and fighting against his broad, muscled chest and arms feels almost pointless. Especially when he uses his other arm to pin my flailing arms and uses his legs to trap my own between them.
He’s a trained killer, how can I think I’m a match against him? Yet somehow, that doesn’t scare me. He doesn’t scare me and I’m too drunk to remember the stupid training he gave me. I should be scared of him. I should be.
But that’s the thing with Tyler—the reason I should be scared of him is also the reason I trust him.
He doesn’t hide who he is. No, he is undoubtedly himself and owns up to the bad parts of himself.
He’s bared himself to me, without me even asking.
I know he’d never make me do anything I’m uncomfortable with, and he’d never do anything to make me uncomfortable.
“Sunny, please,” Tyler drawls. “I’m just trying to help you.” His eyes are pleading. “Why won’t you just let me take you home?”
I want to walk. I need to walk. I need the clear air, the night sky, the city around me to bring me back to reality. I need the reminder that it’s real. Being trapped in a car right now or someone babysitting me and watching my every move the way he did will only further my spiral.
Something shifted between Tyler and I the night he came over when I was sick, but I was able to navigate that. This is a whole new maze I’m struggling to find my way through.
A labyrinth.
“I want to walk.” I finally stop thrashing in his arms. He lets up on his grip, just a little.
“Okay, well if we are going to walk, One, I’m going to get you some food at a taco stand right around the block. Two, you’re coming to my place because yours is too far,” he finally says.
“Fine.”
I appreciate he is respecting my wishes, even if it comes with reasonable stipulations. Tacos don’t sound bad, either.
Easing up a little more on me, he takes a step back and watches me.
I flick my eyes down the street, contemplating my escape once more.
If I’m fast enough… I can bolt down the street.
Then he can go home and not have to deal with me.
I won’t have to face him, what we did, how he feels.
I won’t have to go back to his place where it’s just waiting for us to dig ourselves deeper in this hole.
I can make my escape right now. If I run fast enough..
Feeling the world flip, I realize he’s slung me over his shoulder as he braces an arm around my ass and hips, securing me.
“I don’t trust you,” he says.
“Tyler!” I yelp.
As I’m flipped over, I’m met with a view of his ass through his jeans and the ground below us. I groan, because it’s such a nice view.
I’m too drunk for this shit.