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Rafe exchanges a quick look with Asher. No need to be a genius to guess they’re wondering if I lost my mind.
Have I? I’m probably about to put my heart through the shredder once again, but I can’t help it.
Asher tilts his spiky head at me. “Cool. We’ll talk another time. Come on, Rafe.”
Not looking forward to that discussion, now any more than before. Still, the change in Asher’s attitude toward his brother tells me he may yet forgive me, too.
I wait until they leave, closing the door behind them, before I go and lock it. Then I walk back to the bed, rubbing my arms. It’s freaking cold in here. I don’t see a single heater, and Tyler’s lying on top of the covers, still in his shirt, jeans and boots.
This is more complicated than I thought. Shocker, I know.
Sitting on the bed, I unzip his biker boots and pull them off his feet. They thump to the bare floor as I consider what to do next. Tyler hasn’t moved, and I don’t even know if he wants me to stay.
Well, I’ve come this far, so…
I stare at him lying there, his soft lips drawing my gaze. Rafe’s right: his cheekbones are sharper than before, his angular features even more pronounced. He’s been unwell.
I tug at the covers until I manage to free them and pull them over him. Still in my jacket, I unzip and pull my own tall boots off and lie down next to him, burrowing under the covers. He murmurs something, shifts and curls his arm around me, drawing me close. Heat radiates off his body.
“Erin…” His voice is low and rough and makes me shiver. “I remember this.”
This feeling, this entanglement of limbs and breathing each other’s air, this nearness that is so unbearably sweet.
“It’s not a memory,” I whisper as I snuggle closer and sleep claims me. “This is now.”
Part III
Four years earlier
Tyler
I’m late for the movies. I don’t even know if Erin has gone in without me, or left. In her place, I’d have gone home. It’s cold and gray as I limp across the street to the movie theater.
This is turning into a pattern. Me, being late because of Dad’s vicious moods. Erin, waiting for me, or leaving, and generally being upset because I let her down.
I keep letting her down. And I can’t stop. I try and try to dodge Dad, but he’s drinking a lot more now, and when he corners me, there’s no way out. He’s a professional fighter who trained and worked with the best of them. There’s no chance in hell I can stand against him and win.
I keep skipping school and avoiding my friends. Even Ash. Yeah. Winning just doesn’t seem to be in the cards anymore.
When I finally get my sorry ass across the street, I see Erin waiting for me, wrapped up in her long coat. I tense. She must be angry, and I can’t blame her.
“Hey,” I say, jamming my hands into the pockets of my jacket and making a pitiful attempt to relax my shoulders.
“What happened to you?” She doesn’t seem angry, I belatedly realize, her eyes wide as she touches my jaw.
Ow. Dammit, I didn’t realize I got a bruise there, too.
“And you’re limping.” Her small hand is warm and soft on my face, her gaze concerned. “Why didn’t you call to tell me you were hurt?”
“I’m okay,” I say and smile for her. “I just tripped and fell on my way here. I missed a step.”
“Come on,” she says and drags me with her, not into the movie theater, but in the direction of her house.
“What are you doing?”
“My parents aren’t home. We can lie on the sofa and watch something on the DVD player. And I can take care of you.”
My heart lighter, I follow her. And she really takes care of me, packing ice on my bruises and feeding me cake her Mom made. Then she kisses me and makes everything all right again.
