Page 33 of Restored By You

“Hey,” I say it low, standing in front of her. I draw her into my arms and she follows my lead. Her head on my chest. “Nothing is wrong with you, you hear me. Not a goddamn thing.”

She sniffles. “I’m not so sure.”

I shift, then tip her chin up with one knuckle so she has to look at me. “I am.”

Her eyes are glassy and my heart aches at the very sight. My thumb moves along her jaw. We’re close now. Close like the dance floor, except there’s no music and my heart is pounding like a jackhammer with every reason in the world to step back.

I don’t.

“You should go,” she breathes. She doesn’t move either. Her hand has found the front of my hoodie, fisted in it, holding on. “It’s late.”

I hum. “Feels like it’s early.”

She huffs a light laugh, leaning back to face me. Her gaze drops to my mouth. The half-inch is back, and this time, there’s no crowd to hide in, just her breath going shallow and her grip going tight and the moment holding still around us.

“Rhett,” she says, one more time. Not a warning now.

A question.

And god help me, I lean in to answer it.

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.