Rebound Roommate

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Rebound Roommate Page 19

by Jules Barnard

Tyler carefully places the photo on the nightstand. “This was how old you were when you went to live with Lewis and his parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because of your mom?”

  I hate it when people ask about that time in my life, but it’s important that Tyler knows this part of me. And out of everyone, I want Tyler to understand the connection I have to Lewis. Maybe it will also explain why I’m so protective of the Sallees. “Lewis and his dad found me.”

  “What do you mean they found you?”

  “I was alone—”

  He raises his hand. “Hold up. You were alone? At this age?” He points to the photo. “This little baby—toddler, whatever? Alone, alone?”

  My mouth compresses. “You know I don’t have a great mom. My dad didn’t last a month after I was born. My mom got word he died of an overdose shortly after. Eventually, my mom stopped coming home some nights.”

  “When you were three?”

  I nod.

  Tyler swings his legs off the bed, his forearms resting on his thighs as he stares at me. “What happened, Mira?”

  I sit beside him. “One day, John and Lewis were next door helping out a neighbor. I used to sit in the window and watch people pass. John saw me and came over. He introduced himself and asked some questions. I must have told him my mom was gone or something. He asked if I wanted to go with him and Lewis to their house.”

  I shrug. “That’s pretty much how I came to live with them. I don’t remember all the details. I’m told Lewis held out his hand and I went straight to him and clung to one of his legs, just like in that photo.” I feel my mouth curve into a smile. “I actually remember being a little kid and holding on to Lewis like that. He was so tall. Anyway, that picture was taken around the time I moved in with the Sallees.”

  Tyler’s brow furrows. “Your mom, she didn’t…”

  I chuckle ruefully. “Try to get me back?” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. The Sallees diverted my questions as I got older by saying how blessed they were to raise me, but I always knew my mom didn’t want me.”

  “Mira…”

  “That sounds harsh. I don’t mean it like that. Deep down I think she has affection for me, but the drugs and the drinking, they kind of block it, you know? By the time the Sallees found me, my mom had been bailing for days at a time. I was dehydrated, underfed, dirty. It’s a lot of responsibility to raise a small kid. I think my mom was relieved to have the help.”

  Tyler scratches the side of his jaw. He stares out the window, frowning.

  “It’s okay, Tyler. It was a long time ago. But you get it now, right? My connection to Lewis, and why his parents are so important to me? They’re all I have. And my mom too. She’s the only blood family I’ve ever known. There are no aunts or uncles—no cousins.”

  He looks over with his cool blue gaze that manages to warm me. “You have us. Me, Cali, Gen, not just Lewis and his parents.”

  I want to believe his words.

  “People leave, Tyler. Sometimes it’s for good reasons, like when you went off to college, and sometimes it isn’t.”

  “I won’t leave you, Mira.”

  “You have no idea how many triggers you hit when you walked out after we…”

  He sighs and closes his eyes. “I wish I could take that night back.”

  “I know, and I even understand why you freaked out, but I still need time to feel safe again. And your sister and Gen…They seem like friends. I’d like them to be, but the only friend who’s always been there for me is Lewis. Except now Lewis…” I swallow and sink back on the bed, covering my eyes with my hand.

  I’ve been running around trying to not think about it, but it’s there. The worry that I’ve permanently damaged one of the most important relationships in my life.

  “Mira?” Tyler stretches out on his side and rests his hand above my heart. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s nothing.” I roll to face him, wiping the tear that snuck down my cheek. What is up with all the tears? “Sorry. Bad topic.”

  “What happened with Lewis?”

  “He’s angry with me for lying about why I owe the money.”

  “You told him the truth?” I nod. “And you think he’s all you have,” he says, looking away. He knuckles his forehead. “Mira, you’ve got to stop believing everyone leaves you.”

  “I’m working on it, but these things don’t change overnight. They’re imprinted. If you recall, the people in my life haven’t been the most reliable.” I glare at him, because like it or not, he’s one of them.

  “Push people away, and yes, sometimes they go. And sometimes…” He inches closer, the space between us disappearing. His arms come down on either side of me, dipping the mattress and forcing me on my back again. “Sometimes they return because they can’t stay away.”

  It would be so easy to raise my head that last inch to his lips, from which I suddenly can’t look away.

  I clear my throat and roll out of his reach. The tension between us is the one constant we have. But I want more than attraction.

  After an awkward silence, I say, “Are you hungry?”

  I look back and he quirks an eyebrow, and I realize with all this electricity zinging between us how that must sound.

  My face heats. “I meant food. Are you hungry for food?”

  Tyler’s gaze drops to my mouth. “Sure.” He stands, and I do too.

  I sense him walking behind me as I make my way to the kitchen. “Frozen burrito okay?”

  “Sounds good.” He leans against the counter, watching me.

  God, he’s unnerving. Does he have to do that? “You can sit at the table. I’ll bring it to you.”

  “I’m good.” He smiles. It’s sexy and full-blown, brightening his already brilliant eyes.

  Oh. God.

  I stand there for a moment, staring at that smile. It’s the Tyler smile, the one that had me falling in love with him in high school, though the look in his true blue eyes might be a part of it.

  My heart races, my face flushing. Tyler doesn’t smile at me anymore. Not really. Not the full-blown deal. A quirk of the lips, a grin that might touch his eyes, but this is different. This is unrestrained and glowing. As if I light up his world.

  I hadn’t realized it until now. Hadn’t realized how his not budging an inch when it came to me protected us both. But he’s letting down his guard. Pulling out all the stops.

  “I have to go.” I rush around the counter and snake my purse from the top, gingerly, so as to not brush one hair on his body.

  His smile fades. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  I make the mistake of glancing back, not sure what I’m expecting to see. Maybe a smug I-did-that-sexy-smile-on-purpose look. But his expression is one of masked disappointment.

  That’s worse than smug. If I’m reading it right, it means his smile was genuine. He was happy just being with me. And my reaction—a bone-deep attraction—is totally out of control. If all he has to do before I’m ready to whip off my bra and launch myself on him is smile, we’re in the danger zone. Loose cannons everywhere inside our house.

  How am I supposed to take things slow when he looks at me like that? Suddenly, this living together has gone from explosive to downright cataclysmic.

  I pull my keys from my purse and walk out the door.

  In my socks. Crap.

  Too bad. I’m not going back.

  Tyler seems serious about his feelings for me, but there’s no way I can jump into this. It’s not smart after all we’ve been through.

  My feelings for him have grown, and losing him this time might be the one thing in life that finally breaks me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I smooth my hand over the new beige upholstery in Tyler’s truck on our way into work. Tyler has offered me rides before, but today I gave in. My car wouldn’t start. There weren’t many other options.

  I’d gone by Cali and Jaeger’s the other night after I left Tyler—in
my socks—and hung out until it grew late enough to sneak home and into my room. Tyler was at his dining table office. He looked up when I walked in and shook his head, as if I were a mystery he had no hope of figuring out.

  “When did you get this done?” I point to the upholstery. The last time I was in his car, his seats were worn to the padding in some places.

  His gaze flickers over. “A week or so ago. It was time. It wasn’t safe. You were cutting yourself every time you got in.”

  I stare at the side of his head. He reupholstered his car for me?

  While I’m still puzzling this through, we arrive at the casino parking garage. Tyler sprints around the front of his car and closes the door behind me as I get out. His hand goes to my lower back while we walk to the casino’s back entrance, and he opens the door for me. Once inside, Tyler doesn’t touch me, but he remains close, as if we are together. Together, together.

  I said I wanted to take things slow. Wanted to make sure we had a future before rushing into things, but Tyler is already treating me like his girlfriend. It should bother me.

  It doesn’t.

  I realized I was in trouble the other night, and my ability to keep him at arm’s length has steadily dropped lower and lower. The funny thing is, I don’t think he’s doing all this to seduce me, or to convince me of anything. I get the feeling that he’s simply not holding himself back anymore.

  How does a girl keep to her convictions of going slow when a guy brings his A-game like this?

  It’s the weekend of the music festival, and both Tyler and I arrived for a later shift in order to work through the evening. We’ve hung out a bit these last couple of days, but I’ve also kept busy by visiting Becky and John, Cali and Jaeger, and Nessa. I even swung by to watch more episodes of GoT with Zach—anything to keep things from going too far with Tyler, because I can feel the heat.

  The longer we live together, hover over each other, the more my defenses break down. I want him. And now, with this business of reupholstering his car so that my arms won’t get scratched? He. Is. Killing. Me.

  Tyler is still the boy who scared away my bullies in junior high, who made sure I passed algebra in high school, and who sees me like no other human being has before. And now he’s a man, self-possessed and confident, and he’s showing me in every way possible that I’m important to him. How much longer can I hold myself back? Or do I at all?

  In the elevator to the executive floor, I look over and smile. If my smile is filled with love and every other feeling I’ve ever possessed for Tyler—well, that can’t be helped. It’s what he brings out in me.

  A heated look fills his eyes, sending a spark through my belly.

  The elevator doors open and I mumble something resembling “I’ll see you later,” as I take off toward my office, trying to stifle the lunatic grin on my face.

  This tension cannot go on much longer. I will combust.

  An hour passes, and I let out a heavy sigh at my desk, forcing my mind off Tyler for the millionth time in the last thirty minutes. I run my finger down the schedule of events and the vendors linked to each. A knock sounds at my office door. And by office, I mean closet, because my space has no windows and is barely large enough for a desk and chair. But hey, it’s an enclosed area and it’s all mine, so I’m thrilled.

  I glance up. “Hi, Hayden.”

  Hayden’s been pulling fourteen-hour days these last couple of weeks. I’m not far behind her. We’re both looking drained, but Hayden seems particularly stressed.

  “I have a huge favor to ask. Jessie from hospitality called in sick with appendicitis.”

  “Jessie?” I say, my voice high-pitched. “As in, Jessie who is saving our asses by running hospitality with minimal help from me while we’re short-staffed? That Jessie?”

  “Yeahhh.”

  Ah, shit. “What can I do?”

  I mean, I’m booked for the night with human resources tasks, but this is an emergency. And I’m Hayden’s right-hand woman. I like the little team we’ve formed. It feels good to be a part of something outside of family and friends.

  “We’ve got people coming in from all over, and every celeb has special requests. I need you to check the suites to make sure they’re stocked with the appropriate items. Gummy bears, Roberto Cavalli bath towels in zebra print, rubber duckies—”

  “Whoa, seriously?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Celebrities. What can you do? Jessie supposedly stocked everything before she left yesterday, but I want to make sure it’s all there. She wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Sure, I’ll take care of it.” I calculate in my head the other items I have left to manage. It’s massive, but this is important to Hayden, so it’s important to me. “Should I leave now?”

  “If you don’t mind? Here’s the list.” She hands me a ten-page document.

  I blink, but hold it together. This list will take me hours. “I’m on it. Anything else?”

  “No, but maybe just—be careful?”

  I frown.

  Hayden shifts her feet nervously. “Drake’s here.”

  “What?”

  “And there’s a weird energy among the executives tonight. It’s making me nervous.”

  What the hell? I love my job, but sometimes this place sucks.

  “Why did they allow Drake back?” From the rumors I’ve heard, the CEO is no longer confident of Drake’s innocence.

  “No idea. My boss has been tight-lipped on the subject.”

  “Okay,” I say, leery. “I’ll be careful.”

  Hayden leaves, and I shoot out one last email before slipping on my heels from under my desk. I exit my closet/office—and stop in the hallway, the hospitality list and other paperwork clutched in my hands.

  Male shouts filter down the hall, escalating with each word, as if whoever is yelling is also rapidly approaching.

  Drake turns the corner, headed my way. “We had a deal, Joseph,” he yells behind him, pacing closer, papers hanging out the unzipped sides of his briefcase. “I sacrificed for you.” He stops as if to turn and go back the way he came. But then he catches sight of me.

  Drake’s eyes narrow and he stalks forward. “You’re next, Mira Frasier.” His face contorts red with rage. “You think you’ve come up in the world? I know all about your past. You’re like me,” he snarls. “Came from the dumps, didn’t you? That’s where you’ll end up. They’ll throw you under the bus faster than they did me. You’re a woman.” He grabs my arm. “They’re using you. You have less power than any man in this place. You are nothing.”

  I can’t move, can’t breathe. I shouldn’t listen to him, but for some reason his words hit home. I didn’t get this job due to merit, and I’m ashamed of some of the things I’ve done to survive. Pushing people away who didn’t deserve it, borrowing from bad men, lying to Lewis. I thought my job at Blue was a step up. But now, with Drake highlighting where I came from—is he right? Am I like that tree root in the woods reaching for the stars, tripping everything in its path, when where I really belong is back in the dirt?

  The positive affirmations I’ve been silently chanting these past months flee my head. My mind is blank.

  Tyler and another security guard barrel around the corner. Tyler’s gaze darts from me to Drake, his jaw clenching.

  He lunges for Drake and wraps a thick arm around his neck. “Let her go, asshole.”

  Tyler is taller, stronger. Drake grimaces and drops my arm, his briefcase clattering to the ground.

  Tyler grabs his handcuffs and restrains Drake’s wrists, then shoves him at the other security guard, who’s even bigger than Tyler, bald, with a thick mustache that sticks out at the ends.

  The other guard grabs Drake in what looks like a bruising grip, but Drake attempts to pull away, his eyes wild. “She’s next,” he yells, his body shaking as he tries to move toward me. “Mira and that bitch Hayden.”

  Tyler steps in front of Drake and elbows him in the face, making blood spurt from his nose. Drake stumbles
and lets out a piercing cry.

  “Get him out of here,” Tyler yells.

  The guard drags Drake to the end of the hallway, where two policemen round the corner.

  Before the policemen can take hold, Drake twists his neck around until our eyes meet, his expression almost calm. “The rings, Mira. Look for the rings.” His face contorts into a disdainful, part-mad smile.

  And with that cryptic message, he’s dragged away by the policemen.

  Tyler waits until they’re out of sight, then turns and scans my body. “Did he hurt you?” He touches my arm, coming closer, blocking me with his body.

  I don’t say anything, because the answer is nebulous. Did Drake hurt me physically? Not really. Psychologically? Yes. I’m fighting to negate his words. To positive-affirm the shit out of the stuff he filled my head with.

  Tyler’s eyes flare at the expression on my face and he guides me into my office a few feet away, closing the door, despite the Blue employees watching us and the spectacle that just occurred.

  “Mira?” Tyler touches my face, running his hands down my arms as if to check my pulse. He cups my cheeks gently. “Mira,” he says again. “Tell me you’re okay before I go back and fuck that guy up. I swear I’ll—”

  “Fine,” I choke out. “I’m fine. He just—got to me.”

  Tyler pulls me to his chest, his hand running up and down my back, warm and gentle. “He doesn’t know shit about you, Mira. Don’t listen to a word that asshole said. I know you.” He squeezes me close with a little shake. “I. Know. You. You are feisty, and strong, and clever…and you are not your mother. You care about the people in your life. You sacrifice for them, even when they don’t deserve it. You protect them, when you’re the one that needs protecting—”

  “Okay. Stop,” I say. Tears build behind my eyes again. This is not the time or place to cry. And damn, Tyler. Why am I always crying around him? “I hear you. I won’t listen to him.”

  Tyler is right. Drake may have had a rough upbringing, but we are not the same. We do not make the same choices. And he doesn’t know my heart.

  Tyler pulls back and kisses me soundly on the mouth. No tongue, just a take that and try to stop me kind of kiss. He grins as if he’s proud he got away with it.

 

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