Elizabeth laughs at this. “There ain’t a lawyer in the world who would date me. I didn’t even finish high school.”
Miranda starts disagreeing with her and I check my cell phone. There was one new text message that I must have gotten while eating breakfast. It’s from Tyler. I feel childishly stupid at how my stomach feels both jittery and like it’s floating.
Good morning girl who won’t date me, it says. Hope you have a great day.
Robert’s massive boots stomp angrily down the porch. He must have stepped over the railing that separates her side from ours because now it sounds like he’s—shit. He’s right in front of my door. The three of us flatten against the wall when he walks in front of my living room window. My heart is surely pounding as hard as Elizabeth’s is right now. If he actually tried breaking in here, I’m not sure there’s much we could do.
Miranda appears at my side, holding a cast iron skillet. She wiggles her eyebrows when I give her a what the hell look.
Okay, so maybe we could do something if he broke in.
A few minutes pass and he still paces the porch, occasionally beating on Elizabeth’s door and demanding for her to come out and talk to him. Once he tries speaking in a nicer tone but that doesn’t last very long.
“Are you fucking serious?” he says before letting out a string of curse words. “You called this douche? Fucking seriously, Elizabeth?”
We lean back toward the window now, and see him step off the porch, his chest all bowed up like an ultimate fighter. Tyler’s truck pulls into the driveway, stopping right at the fork that separates her driveway from mine.
“Oh thank god, he’s here,” Elizabeth murmurs. Her fingers touch the blinds and pull them down a bit so she can see easier out of my window. Seeing Tyler does set my mind at ease, but knowing he’s here to rescue Elizabeth, not me, doesn’t exactly sit well with me.
The three of us girls perch in front of the window with the blinds twisted just barely open so that we can see out and no one can see in. We’re like a set of gossipy old women, just dying to see every second of the drama unfolding outside.
Tyler steps out of his truck. He’s wearing black basketball shorts and a grey t-shirt. I wonder if that’s what he slept in. I wonder if he’d look this freaking gorgeous and casual if I were to wake up next to him every morning. Robert throws his hands in the air. “What the hell are you doing here, man?”
“I own the place.” Tyler presses his truck door closed with a defiant click. His hand stays on the door frame, almost casually mocking Robert’s puffed up cocky stance. “The question is what are you doing here? You’re trespassing and you need to leave.”
“I ain’t doing shit but trying to talk to my fiancé.” He throws an arm backward, pointing at Elizabeth’s apartment. “I’m trying to have a civilized conversation with her and she calls you instead of talking to me like an adult.” He looks back toward Elizabeth’s living room window. “Real fucking mature!”
“You gotta leave,” Tyler says. “Now.”
“Why don’t you make me, you asshole.” Robert charges across the yard and rears back his fist, aiming straight for Tyler. Tyler ducks and the punch that was supposed to hit him slams into his truck. Robert yells more profanities and attacks Tyler again. Inside, Elizabeth shrieks and flails around as the two men fight in our front yard.
Miranda is quick to action and calls the cops from my phone. “They’re right down the road,” she says, adjusting the skillet in her hand. “He said less than a minute.”
“Thank god,” Elizabeth screeches. “Oh god, oh god. He’s going to hurt him.”
I’m not sure who exactly she’s talking about. The fight is messy. Robert lands a punch to Tyler’s jaw and his head snaps back at an angle that sends phantom pains down my own spine. I can’t help myself. I steal Miranda’s skillet and throw open the front door.
Robert shoves Tyler against the truck door and his body goes limp. For a second, it’s as if he’s stopped fighting back completely. Blind rage fills me. My legs move on their own. Soon I am off the porch and across the yard. Now I know why Tyler struggles to fight back: blood soaks his grey shirt.
Adrenaline. That’s the only word in my mind as I feel my arms pull the skillet in the air and then swing it down with all of the strength I have. I aim for his side and not his head. Even in my anger-fueled rampage, I know I can’t kill the guy. Police sirens fill the air.
The skillet slams into Robert’s ribcage with a satisfying and almost hollow-sounding thunk. He stumbles to the left and drops to his knees. Something falls from his hand and clanks onto the rocky driveway. A knife.
Tyler’s head falls back against the side of his truck. He grabs his side with two bloody hands, his teeth gritting together as he draws in quick breaths. The stitches over his eyebrow had just healed. And now he’s going to have another scar.
“How bad did he get you?” I ask, reaching for his shirt.
“Don’t,” he says, pressing his hands tighter to his body. “Don’t touch it. I don’t know. I don’t want to let out more blood.”
Elizabeth appears. Tears stream down her cheeks. “Oh Tyler, oh shit, oh god.” She’s a stuttering, crying, mess. She crashes into him, throwing her arms around his neck. “What did he do to you? I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Tyler, I swear. I had no idea.”
Two county sheriff cars speed into view. “It’s okay,” Tyler tells her, along with some other kind words that I can’t hear over the sirens. Seeing Elizabeth tangled up around Tyler like she freaking owns him sends an annoyed rush of anger coursing over my body. Not wanting to see the display in front of me, I meet the officers and start explaining myself. I realize the skillet is still in my hand. That’s probably not the smartest thing I could have done.
Robert, dazed and angry, is arrested and tossed into the back of the first patrol car. He’s not even allowed to tell his side of the story and by the way the sheriff acts, he’s already dealt with that guy enough times to know that his side of the story is anything but noble. The other sheriff is also a trained emergency technician. He says the gash in Tyler’s side is just a flesh wound that will require stitches, but was lucky enough to avoid any arteries or organs. Robert’s pathetic pocket knife and poor aim simply cut him open and nothing more. Luckily.
When all the drama has died down, I thank the officers and head back toward my house. Tyler’s side is bandaged up thanks to the sheriff, and now he needs to go to the hospital, but I don’t offer to drive him. He seems perfectly capable of driving himself after all. I think I hear him call my name as I step up the three porch steps to my apartment, but I don’t bother looking back.
After all, he has Elizabeth to keep him company. The way she clings to him without reservation tells me two things. The only two things I really need to know. One - they have a history together. And two - she’s not over him.
Chapter 6
My phone lights up on Monday morning, making a little twinkly beep sound that signals a new text message. I’m still in bed, although I wasn’t exactly asleep. My heart takes up residence in my throat as I reach over and grab the phone, hoping it’s another good morning text message from Tyler.
It’s not.
It’s a text from a number I don’t have saved into my phone. But it’s no question who the message is from by the contents of it. Have I ever told you that you’re the greatest aunt ever? BECAUSE YOU ARE.
The phone beeps again. I LOVE YOU AUNT ROBIN!!!
Smiling, I save Miranda’s new cell phone number into my phone. After all of the dramatics that happened yesterday morning, I had forgotten all about the new phone I bought for her when I went out with Tyler to shop for baby shower stuff. Elizabeth had ended up going with Tyler to the hospital yesterday and seeing the two of them drive off together had ruined my spirits. So, in true pathetic Robin fashion, I just moped around the house all day instead of doing anything productive.
Marcus kept Miranda busy on her day off by helping her set up baby stuff a
nd then they had gone to his house to meet his sister. I had fallen asleep before they came home, but not before leaving the phone on Miranda’s pillow with a note that simply had a smiley face on it. I’m not good at sappy notes that say I love you and here’s a phone because your bitch of a mom cut off the service on your old one.
She must have left for work without waking me up. There is this small bit of guilt I feel each morning when I sleep in for as long as I want—sometimes as late as noon—but I keep telling myself that it’s okay. It’s okay to quit and chill. I used to wake up at five thirty in the morning just to make it to school on time and then I went from high school to college to work with no break in between. I’ve been waking up early my whole life. So it’s okay if I take a few weeks to sleep in and be lazy.
No amount of self-assurance ever makes the guilt go away though. I have got to get a job. This is our last day of setting up the Halloween festival and when it’s over, there won’t be any more volunteering opportunities in town until the Winter Festival. I can’t keep ignoring my joblessness forever.
But I can ignore it for today.
Grandpa’s watch makes a clunky accessory to my faded jeans and black racerback tank top. Last time I was helping at the fairgrounds, my clothing got filthy and I spilled orange paint on my shoes. Today I’ll wear something that can get demolished.
I show up to the fairgrounds a little late but Tyler’s truck isn’t in the parking lot. I’m a little relieved. I don’t know why. It’s just…complicated being around him right now. I guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t show up since his side is all stitched up.
Marcus seeks me out the moment I walk in the double garage doors, tossing me a pillow-sized bag of white fluff. “Help me spider web this place,” he says through a small gap in his mouth. His teeth bite down on a bag of thumbtacks.
“Are we the only people here today?” I ask. It’s kind of a dumb question because there’s only two cars in the parking lot. Marcus nods. “Everything is pretty much done. Sherry had to stay home to get her costume ready for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow is Halloween. It’s kind of ridiculous that I forgot the date. “What are you going to be this year?” he asks. He stretches out some of the white fluff and makes a very convincing-looking fake spider web against the wall.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Your costume. I want to be Thor but my sister said I’m too Mexican to pull it off.”
I laugh. “Miranda loves Thor. She’s watched it like a dozen times since we moved here. I think you should totally do it.”
Marcus nods. “Hell yeah. I already have the blonde wig. So what are you going to be?”
I stretch out some spider webs but they don’t look nearly as good as Marcus’s. He grabs the middle of mine and pulls it down, evening it out. “I’m too old to dress up,” I say, pinning the web into place with a white thumbtack. “Plus I don’t think we’ll have any trick-or-treaters on our dead end road.”
“Psh.” Marcus shakes his head. “You are not going to sit at home on Halloween! You’ll be here, obviously. And you have to dress up or Sherry will kill you. Or worse, she’ll dress you up herself. She has a crap ton of old lady dresses and I don’t think you want that.”
My lips squish to the side of my mouth. “I guess I could come and see the fruits of all our hard labor. I’m not sure that haunted house could scare me, now that I know all the secrets.”
“It better scare Miranda. I might have oversold our haunted house making abilities to her.”
“Is she dressing up?” I ask. I might live with the girl but if anyone knows her day to day activities, it’ll be Marcus. He nods. She wants to be Juno. You know, that girl from the movie who was a teen mom?”
“Cute,” I say, thinking about the time I watched it with Miranda and she’d said her mother absolutely hated that film. If there’s one thing I can appreciate, it’s a costume created out of spite.
Marcus takes the bag out of his mouth. “Don’t you remember that conversation? It was like a couple days ago.”
“We’ve never talked about Juno. But it’s definitely a costume I can see her choosing.”
“Oh wait, never mind,” Marcus says, hanging up another spider web. I’ve pretty much given up because all of mine have sucked. “That wasn’t you. That was Elizabeth, on the porch the other day. Elizabeth’s going to dress up as a cowgirl which is just pathetic. I told her she’s just like Tyler, lazy as hell.”
My brows draw together until I can’t take it anymore. “What does that mean? The lazy thing?”
“Tyler is a ‘cowboy’ every year.” He makes air quotes at the word cowboy. “He just wears his existing clothes and adds a hat and carries around a lasso all night. It’s such a cop out of a costume.”
The annoying groan I think to myself must actually come out of my mouth because Marcus looks over. “What?” he says. “Did I piss you off?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what her freaking deal is.”
“Elizabeth?” Marcus’s eyes light up like we’re about to talk gossip and he’s not sure if he wants to join in.
“Yeah,” I say. “Elizabeth. And Tyler. I don’t know what the deal is with them. I thought he liked me, but sometimes it’s like she has him wrapped around her little finger.”
I regret the words the moment I say them. I’m about a thousand percent sure that I can’t trust that boy not to tell Tyler, or Elizabeth, or Miranda anything I say. The last thing I need is to be embarrassed about my stupid crush.
He shrugs. “I don’t know what the deal is. I mean it’s kind of obvious that Elizabeth has always had a thing for Tyler, but she’s been dating that Robert guy on and off for years.”
“So it’s not just me? She’s totally into him?”
“Hell, I don’t know. She’s always calling him needing something when I’m hanging out with Tyler. This went on way before you ever came here. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
My eyes practically bulge out of my skull. “What the hell does that mean? I obviously have a lot to worry about!”
“Nah,” he says. “The thing is, she’s always calling him. He never calls her. So even if she does like him, he likes you.”
“But what if he also likes her?”
Marcus shrugs again. It’s annoying how he doesn’t think this is an issue. “Claim him before she does.”
I roll my eyes. “Men can’t be claimed. This isn’t some kind of HBO sex show. Besides, I don’t want to date someone if they’d rather be with someone else. If I’m dating someone, I want to be the only woman they want in their life.” Ugh. Now I’m definitely saying more than I should. But I can’t help it. Once I’ve started, it all just comes tumbling out of my lips like the words have been hanging out there for days, begging to be set free.
“You sound like my sister,” he says with a snort of laughter. I punch him in the arm. “I should sound like every self-respecting woman in the world!”
He nods, shoving another thumbtack into the wall. “That’s exactly what I meant.”
Chapter 7
“Hey, Aunt Robin,” Miranda calls out from the hallway. I barely hear her over the scary Halloween soundtrack she downloaded onto her mp3 player and has been blasting through the house to celebrate the holiday.
“Yeah?” I mumble back while peering into my makeup mirror as my hand draws on a thick line of eyeliner.
“I need you to stop obsessing over your looks for one second and look at me.”
I cap the eyeliner and give her an annoyed look. Only, I can only glare at her head as it pokes into my doorway from the hall. “I’m not obsessing over my looks,” I grumble.
She lifts one eyebrow. “Really? You’re gonna deny it? Whatever, look I need your advice.”
“What advice is that?”
She steps forward. “How do I look? Stupid? Do I look stupid?”
My mouth falls open. She’s wearing a beat up pair of jeans, Converse, and a gray skirt on top
of the jeans. The orange and white striped shirt she had ordered online protrudes over her belly and the whole thing is topped off with a black leather jacket she borrowed from my closet. I close my mouth and smile. “You look really awesome. Exactly like Juno, right down to the smartass expression on your face.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just don’t want to look stupid.”
“Now who’s obsessing over their looks?” I mock, shooing her away with my hand. “Let me finish getting dressed so we won’t be late.”
She leans against the door frame, eyeing me as I grab a brand new tube of bright red lipstick. “Who are you supposed to be? A sexy janitor?”
“Seriously?” I mumble through drawing the lipstick across my upper lip. “You can’t tell that I’m Rosie the Riveter?”
Her brows wrinkle. “Who?”
“Wow, you have some American History learning to do.” I cap the lipstick and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Yeah, the makeup is a bit much. I did an entire face full—foundation, powder, that spray stuff that’s supposed to keep your makeup on all night, and overdone blush so my cheeks would be overly rosy like the posters. My dirty blonde hair is piled on top of my head in a bun with my bangs in a slight poofy bouffant. “Hand me that handkerchief?” I ask my niece, just to give her something to do besides gawk at me like I’m some kind of weirdo who makes up fictional characters to impersonate on Halloween.
I tie the red handkerchief around my hair, knotting it up top and pinning it in place with a few bobby pins. I roll up the sleeves of my thrift store work jumper to my elbows and, once again, look into the mirror.
My clothes are a little baggy and show absolutely no sexiness. But my makeup is drop dead awesome. I know it goes against everything I would normally believe in, but tonight I don’t want to be as hot as possible. I want to be normal Robin Carter. Wearing a normal, non slutty Halloween costume. I want to be able to be taken seriously. Because tonight, I have something important to say.
A Little Like Destiny (Robin & Tyler #3) Page 4