Page 48 of Protected from Torment

The sad thing is, there are plenty of suspects. And that makes me feel terrible. Tyler keeps reassuring me that I’m a good person, and that just because I made a mistake, it doesn’t define me. He likes to reel off all the positive things about me, like my love of dogs and how brave and strong I am.

Sometimes I almost believe him. Other times, I’m not as sure.

But that’s why we’re having a game night tonight, instead of a quiet evening watching TV. I overheard Tyler talking to Indy earlier today, when he thought I was napping. “She’s been down,” Tyler said, “and I think the stress is really getting to her. I was thinking we could have a quiet game night. Regular Jenga, Pictionary, cards… Just something to get her mind off things for a while.”

I still can’t believe he wanted to do that for me. And he was right; it has helped. During the two hours we’ve been playing games, I’ve only thought about my mysterious tormentor a handful of times, which is far better than normal. Plus, I’ve gotten to sit next to Tyler the entire time, bumping legs with him and occasionally holding hands.

Do friends hold hands? Or does that mean Tyler has feelings deeper than that?

“I’m not trying to be bossy,” Tyler adds. His expression is earnest as he holds my gaze. “I just don’t want you to push yourself too much. That’s all.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Tyler definitely has a bossy side. But it’s a sweet bossiness, not an obnoxious one. And I know, if I put my foot down and said I wanted to keep playing, he wouldn’t push me. But I also know he’d be worrying about me the entire time.

And truthfully, I am a little tired. Maybe I used to be able to get by on four or five hours of sleep in my twenties, but not anymore. Now I feel like something the cat dragged in if I get less than seven. So I acquiesce. “Okay. I guess we should wrap things up for tonight.” Glancing at Indy and Webb, I add, “I’m sure Bea and Noelle are both eagerly waiting to hear from you.”

Webb smiles; his features softening at the mention of his fiancée. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to talking to her, too.”

“You two go,” Levi says. He starts gathering up the Jenga blocks. “I’ll clean up.”

Tyler rises from his chair and holds his hand out to me. As I take it, he says, “I’ll let Oscar out, then bring him to your room for bed. How’s that sound?”

“Okay.” I’m a little bummed that I won’t have my TV-watching time with Tyler, but it’s late, and I can’t expect him to give up even more of his night to entertain me.

Having heard the magic word, out, Oscar springs up from his spot on the floor and trots into the kitchen, his tail wagging eagerly.

“His tail looks especially jaunty right now, doesn’t it?” Tyler asks. He smiles to make sure I know he’s joking.

“It does,” I agree. “Very jaunty.”

Tyler grins. “I’d even say effervescent.”

“Effervescent?”

“Yeah. It can mean enthusiastic,” he replies. “And I’d definitely say Oscar is enthusiastic about going outside.”

A warm feeling blossoms inside me. Since he’s been staying here, Tyler’s been trying to come up with fun-sounding words to use because he knows I like them. It’s sweet and cute, and it’s just another reason why I like Tyler so much.

Now that going outside is a real possibility, Oscar lets out an excited yip. He trots over to Tyler and butts his hand with his snout, then gives him a pleading look. “Okay,” Tyler tells him with a laugh. “I’ll take you out.” Then to me, he adds, “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

I smile at him. “Okay.”

As Tyler heads into the kitchen to take Oscar out, I hightail it into the bathroom to freshen up. Is it silly, given that Tyler’s been looking at me for the last several hours? Maybe. Am I going to fix my hair and brush my teeth anyway? Yes.

I’m just wriggling into a fresh pair of yoga pants when a light knock sounds at my bedroom door. I steal a quick glance in the mirror above the dresser on my way to answer it, and give my unruly curls one last pat.

Summer, I inwardly grumble. No matter what I do to my hair, no matter how many products I use, the dumb humidity never fails to make my hair go all crazy.

When I open the door, Tyler’s eyes widen. Instead of coming inside, or saying anything, he just stands there, staring at me.

“Is it my hair?” I ask, patting it worriedly. Then I glance down at my worn yoga pants, checking for an unfortunately-placed hole I missed. “Is there a stain? A hole?”

His gaze moves to my pants, and a beat later, his cheeks go slightly pink. “No, your pants are fine.”

“My hair?” I try to gather it back with one hand, silently cursing the cast on the other. “It gets all frizzy when it’s hot. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do to it.”

Tyler closes the distance between us and gently lowers my hand. “Your hair looks great, Mel. You don’t need to pull it back.” He pauses before amending, “Unless it’s bothering you.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach go all fluttery. The same conflicted feelings I’ve been struggling with for over a week—does he like me as more than a friend? Do I want him to? Am I really ready for anything more than friendship?—prick at me again.