By the time my spring break was over, I was thoroughly relaxed and ready to go back to school. It had only been a week and a half, but it felt like it had been months. I felt anxious as I packed my stuff, getting ready for the long drive back. I was a little anxious about Brad, I guess since we went to the same school, but honestly— I felt like I could handle him on my own.
However, as much as I was enjoying the single life, the thought of going back to school without seeing Ty one last time made my gut clench almost painfully. I couldn't do it. I didn't know why I had to see him or even what I'd say. Part of me hoped that I'd get one last goodbye fuck, but even if I didn't, I had to see his sweet, serious face one more time. Maybe for the last time.
The day before I was supposed to go back, I tried to call him, but of course, his phone was off. I thought about sending him a bitchy text, but I didn't have that much vindictiveness in me. Instead, I slapped on some makeup, bundled up in my coat, and walked over to his house. Even if he wasn’t there I figured I could spend some time with Justin and Judy, but when I finally got there and knocked on the door, no one answered.
Dismayed, I waited a minute, then knocked again. I tried a third time too, but again, to no avail.
Dejected, I hung my head and turned to walk away, but something stopped me. As soon as I stepped off the front stoop, my body started screaming at me not to leave. It was the weirdest feeling, one that had no logic or reason behind it. Pure intuition. I hated to be "that girl" and wait for a man in the cold. It was kinda pathetic. But this wasn't just any man, and I wasn't just any woman. Ty deserved to know I still cared. And more than that, for my own sanity, I had to tell him that, face-to-face.
I resolved to wait on the front porch until someone came home or I froze to death. I sat down and tried calling Ty again, but his phone was still off. So I wrapped my arms around my knees and waited, going over the whirlwind of events of the last week and a half in my mind. To think that it had been such a short span of time and yet, I felt like my life would never be the same.
If I only knew!
I'd been there about an hour, my hands and feet were numb with cold when a weird black van pulled up in the driveway. It went way too fast and I wondered if it was Justin and one of his teenage school chums or something. I expected the van to stop and to see Justin and some random teens come piling out. Instead, the van's tires never fully stopped as the rear doors flew open, and threw out a bloody, battered man onto the lawn. The van sped off and before my rational mind could catch up, my feet were already moving, my lips screaming Ty's name.
The sight of him was horrifying. Every inch of exposed skin was either smeared with blood or swelling with bruises. As I bent over him, his eyes couldn't focus on me, he couldn't speak. He was barely even breathing. Frantic, I called 9-1-1, my numb fingers barely able to dial. I gasped out Ty's address and begged the operator to tell me what to do. Something, anything to help him.
"Don't move him, ma'am," the operator said.
"And!?" I demanded. "Should I do CPR or something?"
"Honey, if he's breathing, you don't need to do that."
"What can I do!?" I practically shrieked, because if I had to sit here and listen to Ty wheeze until the ambulance got here, I thought I'd go insane. "There has to be something I can do to help him!"
A few seconds of silence crackled by, then the operator said simply, "Pray, honey."
***
I spent the night in the hospital, riveted to the chair beside Ty's bed. He was critically injured, and by the time he came out of the emergency room, they had cleaned him up and changed him into a hospital gown. I'd never seen him look so peaceful. I'd never seen him not wearing a leather jacket before.
I'd never seen him with an oxygen tube in his nose.
A desperate squeak escaped me and I fought the urge to cry. I didn't want to break down in front of everyone. I wanted to be strong for Ty because I knew he'd be strong for me. I followed a nurse to his room and listened stoically as the doctor explained his condition. I could barely comprehend anything the doctor said.
"If he makes it through the night—"
"If!?"
"— then he'll be fine. It'll take time for him to heal, but, barring any more incidents with that punctured lung, there shouldn't be any long-term complications. Unless he's got a lurking head injury we don't know about yet..." The doctor trailed off pensively, staring at the ginger man in the bed. "Anyway, Mrs. Franklin—"
"I'm not—"
"— I wouldn't worry too much. He's a strong young man, I'm reasonably certain he'll pull through."
The doctor gave me a condescending pat on the shoulder, and as he left the room I wanted to scream at him, REASONABLY CERTAIN IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH! Lucky for me and for him, the words stuck in my throat, and died away, as the sound of Ty's heart monitor pierced my thoughts. I sank into the chair beside the bed.
It was nighttime by then, so most of the room was dark, except for the ridiculously bright fluorescent lamp right beside the bed. It threw Ty's placid face into sharp contour, harshly illuminating every bump, bruise, and cut; as well as every curve, line, and muscle. I rested my elbow on the bed with my chin in my hand, admiring his beautiful face. Now that I looked at him, his features were more boyish than I had ever realized. He projected such a strong aura that he seemed almost ageless, like some kind of mythical, immortal creature. But now, with all pretense gone, unable to put up any kind of facade, I realized that Ty was just a lonely boy. I carefully cupped his face, willing him to be okay, willing him to wake up and accept me so that I could love him as fiercely as he deserved to be loved.
He did not wake up.
I fell asleep with my forehead pillowed on his arm. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but I guess I was exhausted. I woke up with the slight chill of drool on my cheek and slime across my lips.
"Ugh," I said, sitting up groggily.
"Ugh is right," Ty croaked, "you've been drooling on me for an hour."
"Ty!" I cried, throwing my arms around him and showering his face with kisses until he grunted and moaned softly with pain. I let go of him, shrinking, feeling stupid, because he had countless injuries I had probably just aggravated. I stood there, chin trembling, and meekly reached for his hand. My heart leaped with joy and tears welled up my in eyes when his fingers closed around mine.
"I was so worried all night and— and— why... why didn’t you answer my calls?" I tried to prevent myself from blubbering.
Ty looked away in shame, his features clouded with guilt. I almost felt bad for asking, but then I remembered that new, liberated Candace— no, Candy— was gonna hold men accountable for their actions. I steeled myself against feeling bad and waited for Ty’s answer.
"I dunno," he said feebly. His voice was so ragged and weak. I caressed his hand, and he looked at me. His brow furrowed and his mouth looked sort of soft. "I'm just... running from ya, I guess."
"But... why?" I whispered, exasperated. "Wasn't it good that day? I felt so... so close to you..."
"Me too," he admitted, his voice little more than a mumble. "You don't wanna be close to me, Candy, I'm no good."
"Yes, you are," I insisted, giving my foot a little stomp. "Why can't you just accept it that you're a good person, Ty?"
He looked away from me again. I think he would've shrugged off the question, but his left arm was just readjusted for being dislocated and the other had a torn ligament.
"Can you at least accept that I believe so?" I asked, bringing his hand to my lips. I pressed a kiss to his knuckles and kept it there, gazing at his battered face. He looked back at me, our eyes locking. I held my breath. If I wasn't mistaken, his eyes were bright with tears, but that might've been his morphine drip. Unable to help myself, I leaned over Ty. I rested my arms very carefully on either side of his head and kissed his hair, the only part of his body where I could be sure I wouldn't hurt him. Nuzzling into him, I felt his hand weakly on my shoulder. I gasped out a sob, then sat up, sniffling.
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"Sorry," I mumbled. "It was a long night."
"You stayed with me all night?" he murmured in surprise.
I nodded.
His chin quavered suspiciously, but he did not cry.
"You were at the house yesterday when they dropped me off."
"Yeah," I said, my voice small and thick.
"... why?"
I sighed, feeling exhausted, confused, foolish and sad, all at the same time. I shook my head, not knowing where to begin. Words formed in my mouth but died on my lips. The seconds of silence that followed seemed to drag on for hours. I was worried he had fallen asleep by the time I had something to say, but no— he was laying there, looking up at me, attentive and almost... fearful.
"Because I'm in love with you," I finally blurted, turning my face away in shame. "Ty Franklin, you're the most wonderful, sweet, handsome weirdo I've ever met. I have to go back to college tomorrow and the mere thought of leaving without seeing you again made me sick—" I shook my head, pressing his hand to my lips. "I was waiting at your house for you to come home because I had to see you, I—I had to look into your eyes and tell you I loved you before I could be sure you don't love me back. But now, I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. And we... we don't have to be together if you don't want to, but for my own sanity, I had to tell you, that I care so fucking much about you, I—..." I stopped talking because something caught my eye. I couldn't be sure because his face was so beat up, it was hard to tell. But it looked like... the corners of his lips were... trying to sort of... turn... up. And very subtly, I could see tears slipping down either side of his face, dampening the pillow. He gasped and tried to stifle his emotions, but there was no doubt in my mind.
Ty was smiling.
CHAPTER TEN
Ty
Candy stayed with me until the last possible moment, but eventually, she had to leave. I understood, of course, I didn't want her to be stressed about school. Besides, I was gonna be fine. I was in a lotta pain and might be fucked up for a while, but was gonna live. Wasn't like she needed to hang around to say goodbye before I died or whatever.
As far as the two of us, we just left it at that, really. She loved me and I loved her. We agreed that a long-distance relationship wasn't really fair to either of us, but I knew in my gut, way deep down, that I'd never look at another woman the way I looked at her. I'd wait for her until my dick fell off if that was how long it took. Candy had changed something inside of me. She saw the tender parts of me and to her, they were strengths rather than weaknesses, and that meant the world to me. And besides that, she was so gentle with me, like she was with everyone. She didn't see my toughness as an excuse to be hard on me; she saw right past it and accepted me for who I was, through and through. I still didn't quite understand what she saw in me, but after talking with her, I couldn't help but accept her affection and admit to her that I felt the same way. We promised to call and text each other often.
And then she said goodbye.
I had some time alone to reflect on everything she'd said, but my head wasn't too clear on account of all the pain meds they had me on. I just felt kinda... what's the word for it? Melancholy-like. I couldn't wait to see her again. I was excited to be with her, whenever that might happen. I wanted to send her a text saying as much, but the Wildcats had stolen my phone.
Before leaving, Candy had called my Ma and told her what had happened. I was nervous about Ma seeing me like this, I had no idea what I was gonna tell her, but I was thinking. I was thinking real, real hard.
I was thinking I had to quit The Life.
That was what we called it, in the gang, doing our gangster shit— The Life. The thought of quitting and "going legit" had been rolling around at the back of my mind for a while now, but this last debacle with the Wildcats just made it clear that was what I had to do. I didn't know what kind of "legit" job I could even get since my only skills were hustling and bartending, but... well, it was a start. Bartending was a legit job. I'd have to work a lot more to make ends meet, but if it meant never endangering my family like that again, I thought a pay cut might not be so bad.
I had pretty much made the decision when Ma and Justin came to see me. She broke into tears as soon as she stepped through the door, and even Justin looked a little watery-eyed as he stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me suspiciously. Well, I guess he couldn’t really help it. He was uncomfortable seeing his big brother laid out in a hospital bed. I was uncomfortable being seen by him in this condition. Being "the strong one" in my family was such a core part of my identity that this moment of weakness felt surreal as fuck.
"Tyler Jameson Franklin," Ma blubbered into my shoulder.
"Don't call me Tyler," I mumbled, unable to help myself.
"Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry." I sighed and rubbed my face, then looked up at her. My Ma had always been a pretty lady, but looking at her now, I noticed that she looked tired. Older. Her hair was graying at the temples and there were fine lines around her mouth and eyes. She looked weary as fuck, and I knew— well, aging does that, I guess, but I knew a lot of it was probably my fault. I was having, I think, what they call a "moment of clarity." As my Ma held my hand and cried, I realized that everything I had done to try and provide for my family had equally forced us apart. Everything I had done with the intention of helping had also hurt them. The guilt just heaped on top of itself. I felt like a fucking orange in a juice press, and suddenly, it squeezed out my confession.
"Ma, I haven't been honest with ya. I think you know that already," I added. "I think you know I've been keepin' stuff from ya for a long time."
"Yeah," she said stiffly. "Are you gonna finally tell me?"
"I don't wanna, but I think I have to," I huffed. "When I was a teenager, at the garage— right after Pa left— y'know, when I picked up the job after school to help you out."
"Yeah?"
"I was makin' minimum wage, and you were workin' so hard. Neither of us made enough money to survive, and we still had to take care of Justin. I saw you runnin' yourself ragged, Ma, tryin' to take care of us boys and work fifty hours a week. I saw you gettin' sick, losin' weight. You didn't smile for months." I heaved a sigh. "After workin' full-time at the garage that summer, the money was too good to refuse. So I took the full-time job and dropped outta school... as you already know."
Wordlessly, my Ma nodded. I could tell she felt responsible for all that, and I wanted to reassure her she wasn't, but I also wanted to just get the fucking story over with.
"Well, a couple months later..." I drew a deep breath and sighed again. I was nervous. I was afraid she'd reject me or something like she'd be mad at me and never wanna see me again and throw me outta the house or... maybe I was afraid she'd ground me. Maybe I still felt like that sixteen-year-old kid in some ways. "I didn't really get a promotion at the garage."
"...what?" Her jaw dropped. "But you were assistant manager for years—"
"No." I clenched my teeth. "I was a good mechanic, a good salesperson... one of our customers noticed me. He was always in there with these old vintage bikes and I kinda had a knack for 'em. This guy, he said I had a poker face like no one he'd ever seen. He said... he said he saw something in me, and that I could be more than an assistant manager at a motorcycle mechanic's."
"So what... what happened?"
"I joined a gang."
There. Bomb dropped. Dead silence. Even Justin was shocked because I had never admitted it to him outright before. He uttered a soft, surprised "Wow" while mom stood there with tears running down her face, her body stock-still like a statue. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away, closing her eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Ty," she whispered, covering her eyes.
Honestly, if I hadn't been so weak I might've tried to defend myself, to justify myself. I might've made some kind of disgusting martyr speech about "everything I'd done for this family" or whatever, but the truth was, I felt like shit about what I'd done. I felt like shit for lying to her
for over ten years, leading a double-life right under her nose, and I was never gonna tell her how close I'd come to getting one of them hurt. She had every right to be pissed and upset with me and I had no right to defend myself. Eventually, Ma composed herself and sat on the edge of the bed. She was trembling all over, and every now and again, a big shudder would run through her body. Justin came over and patted her shoulder. She leaned into him, embracing him, and he embraced her back as best he could, looking at me uncertainly over her shoulder.
"I'm quitting," I said after a while. "I've been in gang trouble before, Ma, but never this deep. I can't do it no more. I'm gonna see if I can get a gig managing a bar or something— a real manager gig, ya know? I'm done with all this illegal shit, I... I just wanted to provide for you guys, but I shouldn't have done it like I did. I'll do whatever I have to, but I'm gonna take care of you both like always. I don't know what we're gonna do while I'm laid up, but we'll think of something..."
"I've been writing," Justin volunteered. "I did some freelance articles online about rare diseases using a Mom's phone that writes for me."
"What? Justin, that's fuckin' awesome," I said, my heart swelling with pride over my little brother's brains. My body tried to get choked up, but I refused to look any weaker in front of them than I already did, I mean, I had an oxygen tube in my nose for Christ's sake, I wasn't gonna cry on top of it.
"Well, I was gonna try out for junior varsity football, but I changed my mind," he joked. "Decided to try some writing instead. Dunno if I can make enough to pay the rent, but..."
"It's somethin', and it's amazing." I smiled up at him and he grinned back at me. Ma just sat there, crying silently into her hands.
Trust Me: A Bad Boy MC Romance Page 10