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I joltawake and have to take a second to breathe. My heart is pounding inside my chest as I relive the last conversation I ever had with my ex. Every time that nightmare occurs—which is more often than not since Tye showed up—I struggle with the memories of what came next.
The sound of her body hitting the pavement. Her eyes wide open but lacking any kind of life. The deep red that stained the pale concrete. It was all burned into my brain for the longest time, and even now, I quiver at the memory.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. It's not a number I recognize, but the area code rings a bell. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand and bring the phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Aw, did I interrupt someone's beauty sleep?" the voice slurs.
Suddenly, I'm wide awake. "Tye?"
"Tye?" she repeats and then chuckles. "No, Mr. Trayland. It's the all holy Pope. Yes, Tye. Asshat."
Pulling the phone away from my ear for a second, I check the time. "It's two in the morning. Is everything okay?"
"That's a loaded question, Carter. Do you think everything is okay? I mean, maybe it is for you, but you didn't lose your best friend."
"I know. I know, I'm sorry."
She scoffs. "You're not sorry. You don't even care."
"I do. I might not act like it, but I do."
The sound of cars blaring their horns behind her scare the shit out of me.
"Oh, fuck off!" she yells.
"Tyeler, where are you?" I question, getting more worried by the second.
"Wouldn't you like to know. Actually, I'd like to know, too." She hums for a second. "Oh well. It's far away from you. That's all that matters, because you..." She pauses to hiccup. "You are a monster. And a murderer. And an asshole. And I don't really like you."
I'm already halfway out of bed and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. "Look around you. Tell me what you see."
"I see cars, and lights, and oh! A star! No. That's an airplane." She giggles. "Do you know what I don't see, though? I don't see Davi. I miss Davi. And I don't see you, but I don't miss you."
"Tye, this is serious. You could get hurt." I pull a shirt off the hanger and throw it on.
"And that would hurt you, right? Davi dying didn't hurt you, but God forbid something happen to me."
"Mercedez!"
The use of her first name probably isn't the smartest move to make, but I'm starting to panic.
"Fuck you."
My phone beeps, telling me she hung up. Kicking the bottom of my bed, I curse under my breath and then dial Wyatt. It takes three rounds of calls before he finally answers.
"It's five in the goddamn morning over here, Trayland. This better be good."
I sigh in relief. "I'm sending you a phone number. Track it and send me the location."
The sound of him getting out of bed is exactly what I need to hear. "Okay, no problem. You'll have it in five."
"Thank you."
As I grab my keys off the counter, I hang up the phone and head out the door, hoping to hell that I get there in time before she accidentally gets herself killed. Or worse, intentionally.
HOW TYE MANAGED TOmake it all the way across town without so much as a pair of shoes on is beyond me. Thanks to Wyatt tracking her phone, I manage to find her in the middle of downtown North Haven. There is a massive intersection near her, which tells me she probably hasn't moved at all since she called me. She's curled up on a bench, looking way too pretty to be homeless but obviously drunk.
