Page 41 of Protected from Torment

Okay, not probably. I would have. Because I haven’t stopped thinking about Tyler since Long Lake, either.

“Okay,” I concede. “I understand why you called him. But…” I let out a nervous breath. “What did he say?”

“He said exactly what I thought he would. That you were a good person. That you went through a really hard time, but you did everything you could to get through it. He told me you come to Rory’s shelter once a month to help out, plus donating your time and money to the shelter in Northville, as well.”

“I like the dogs,” I reply quietly. “And I like Rory. At first, I helped because I felt bad. But now I go because I like spending time with her.”

“Mel.” Tyler brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Do you really think Rory would let you come to her shelter if she didn’t trust you? Do you think Gage would let her? And what about Enzo? Do you think he would have told me all that if he didn’t believe it?”

I bite my lip. “No. I guess not.”

“No,” he repeats. “They wouldn’t. Because they see you for who you are. Not a villain. But a person who went through something terrible and got sick because of it. A strong person who made a mistake but worked to get past it. A good person, who deserves good things in her life. Like Oscar.”

Sniffling, I nod. “Rory wanted me to have him. She said she thought he would help.”

“Right.” Tyler tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “You’re not the villain, Mel. You never were. Okay?”

I want to believe him. But it’s hard.

“I get it,” he says. His gaze is dark and solemn. “More than you know. Grief does things to you. It makes you consider things you never would have before. But if you let people in, let them help you, it can get better. It does get better.”

“What do you mean, consider things you wouldn’t have before?” I ask with concern. “Did something happen?”

“I’ll tell you about it,” Tyler replies. “I promise. But not now.”

“Why—”

“Because I think we’ve talked about enough heavy stuff for the day.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek again, catching the lingering dampness there. “And too much stress isn’t good for you.”

“What about the rest of your questions?”

“You’ve given me a lot of information already. Tomorrow, we can finish. But for tonight, I think it’s time to move on.”

Part of me wants to insist on getting it over with.

Part of me wants to push Tyler into sharing his own story, which I’m sure includes Kaia’s death, and possibly the limp he hasn’t talked about yet.

But I won’t. Instead, I’m going to relinquish control to Tyler and do what he suggests. “Alright,” I reply. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

Tyler gives me a long look. Then he says, “Would you like to watch some TV with me? Not too much. But maybe an episode of Parks and Rec. And I can grab some cannolis, if you like. What do you think?”

My heart gives a hopeful jump. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did, would I?”

“True,” I concede. “But I’m still pretty stuffed. Maybe we could just watch TV?”

“That works,” he replies with a smile. Then he frames my waist with his hands and moves me to one side of the bed.

As he settles onto the mattress beside me, the hem of his pants lifts to reveal a glint of shiny black, but he quickly tugs it back down.

Understanding crashes into me, shattering my own worries.

The limp.

I wasn’t wrong about him being hurt. I just had no idea how bad it was.

Oh, Tyler.