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I sit at the side of Tyler’s bed, his mother and father who I know of but until now have never been introduced to sit opposite me. I was nervous when they entered, not knowing if they knew anything about me, but when his mother came toward me and offered a hug I was taken back.
“You are just as beautiful as he said you were,” she held my face in her hands, and smiled. His father held out his hand and placed it on my shoulder offering a squeeze before moving to the side of Ty’s bed. And that is where we all remain.
All the guys wander the halls, waiting for him to wake.
I simply stare at him, the bandage on his forehead, the sling his arm rests in, it's all a reminder of the terrifying moment that took place earlier tonight. I silently pray for him to open his eyes, to make a smartass comment, or even a curse from the pain, something, anything.
Yet we remain in silence.
“Does anyone need anything to eat or drink?” Coleton, stands at the door, looking around at all of us and then I see his attention settle on Tyler who’s laying in the bed. I’m sure it's hard for all of them to see him in this state. They’ve all grown up together, watched each other make mistakes and learn, they’ve been at each other's side not only as children and teens, but as they grow into adults. Seeing someone you love at their weakest is not an easy pill to swallow.
Especially when there is nothing you can do to fix it.
“I’m good,” I tell him, and he shifts his gaze back to me offering me a smile.
Both Tyler’s parents decline and again we are left in silence.
I watch his chest rise and fall, holding his hands in my own. Closing my eyes, I turn in the chair and fight my emotions. The doctors say that he’ll wake when he is ready. All his vitals are good, surgery went well, and the remaining injuries are only superficial.
“How are things going at the salon?” Lifting my head I look toward Tyler’s mom as she leans over and places her elbows on the mattress beside Ty.
“Good,” I had been dozing off, not realizing how tired I am until I closed my eyes. “We’ve recently added a new stylist and a pedicure chair in the back. I wasn’t sure how it would go over, so I want to wait before adding a second, but so far it's been a hit.”
“Pedicure,” she looks over at her husband, “I may have to schedule me in for one of those.”
“Hayden does manicures, pedicures, facials. We can make an entire day of it,” she smiles, liking the idea of that.
“You don’t do enough for yourself Ma.”
We all freeze, a groggy voice filling the room as one by one we all turn toward the hospital bed. Lying still is Tyler, with his eyes still closed and for a moment I wonder if I hadn’t imagined the entire thing.
Then slowly as if he feels us all watching him, he starts to open his eyes and mine fill with tears. I know the doctor said he was okay but until I saw it for myself I was afraid to believe it.
“Hey,” he whispers, and I am up off my chair faster than I can register and again take his hand in mine.
“Hey,” my lower lip trembles.
“Enough of that,” he lifts his arm and combs his fingers through the ends of my hair. “I’m fine, no crying now.”
“I’m not crying,” I say, and the corner of his lip tips up in a smile.
Then he gives my hair a tug until I am close enough to kiss, and it's short and sweet. My cheeks heat when I remember we have an audience and look up to find both his parents watching us.
Tyler seems to understand and releases my hair, but again seeks out my hand and holds it firmly in his.
“You’ve always had to be a showoff,” his dad offers, breaking the silence and I observe the two of them hassling one another. It’s nice to see this side of things, Tyler shares very little of his personal life. Yes, I know his uncle adopted him, and he was raised by the two people before us as if they themselves created him. Never once did they ever make him feel any differently. That I know from Liam, I don’t know much about his real parents, because he doesn’t like to talk about it, though I’m sure Liam knows more than he’s shared about that topic.
But to sit in the same room and watch the both of them stare at him with such love I’m getting a glimpse of Tyler outside of the playboy I’ve always known him as.
“I like her,” Tyler’s mom says this to Tyler, and then they both look over at me. Again my neck and face feel hot with embarrassment.
“Yeah,” He says, squeezing my hand, “me too.” He confesses and my pulse quickens. “She’s pretty great.” He adds, dragging his thumb along the palm of my hand.
I know he and I have a lot to talk about, and we will in time. But for now, all I want is for him to heal.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
