by Cathryn Fox
“Mom,” I say and she practically collapses in my arm. “I didn’t do the things they’re saying.”
“I know,” she says quietly, so quiet I have to strain to hear.
“You do?”
She blinks up at me, a new kind of sadness in her eyes.
“What?” I ask, fear slithering through my blood. “What’s going on?”
“It’s…Lucas.”
I hold her shoulders and inch back. My throat tightens, and I have to push my words out. “What about him?”
She makes a soft, broken sound as she goes on to explain, “Last night, after we saw the news…he broke down and told me things.”
“Jesus,” I say under my breath. “What has he done? What kind of trouble is he in?”
“He’s in a lot of trouble. He turned himself in this morning, and this time there is nothing you can do to get him out of it.”
Air evacuates my lungs in a rush as I absorb her words. “Mom?”
A cold breeze blows the lapels on her jacket and she tugs them together, holding them to her chest. “He told me things last night. Lots of things, Tyler.”
I step back, the world spinning around me. I stare at the people walking by, their expressions blank as they hurry to work. My pulse thuds, beats steadily behind my burning eyes, and I struggle to get my words out.
“I…he…”
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.” Mom reaches up and cups my face and it’s all I can do not to fucking sob. “I’m sorry that you ran guns for your brother.”
“I didn’t want him to do it. I didn’t want to see him get himself into any kind of trouble.” I shift to face the courthouse, partly so my mother can’t see my pain.
“The Phantoms,” she says. “They took your bike and brought it to the chop shop. Lucas recognized it. That’s why he had that car waiting for you. He thought they were going to strip it, not use it to frame you. He couldn’t say anything. The gang…” she lets her words fall off, unable to vocalize what the gang would have done to Lucas—my family—if he betrayed them.
“Fuck…” I curse under my breath.
“They wanted him to kill Caleb,” she says on a cry. “He didn’t know who Caleb was, or that you knew him. He only pieced it together after the news. The Phantoms wanted to pin you with his murder, but luckily Lucas couldn’t pull the trigger.” By now tears are spilling down her face, her heart no doubt broken into a million fucking pieces. “He couldn’t do it, and instead they ended up getting into a fight. You and Lucas look so much alike, and it was dark. Caleb must have thought he was you. Lucas said that had to be why the Phantoms sent him to do the job in the first place. The gun…he dropped it in your car by mistake. He said it was the gun that would put you behind bars again, and he couldn’t let that happen.”
“He won’t make it in prison,” I say quietly.
A keening, wailing noise catches in my mother’s throat as she dabs her tears with a tissue. “He said he’s going to make a plea. He’s been working in the chop shop at nights, and he can give up the gang and the location in exchange for a lighter sentence.”
I step back, dizzy, incredulous. “If he does that, he’s a dead man.” If the Phantoms get to him first… Oh fuck, I can’t even let my thoughts go there.
“Tyler, this has to work. If it doesn’t…”
I look past her shoulder and see my band of brothers standing on the curb, waiting for me. “Go home, Mom. Get some rest. I’m going to take care of things. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
“Tyler, please don’t do anything—”
“I won’t.” I hesitate for a second, and then ask, “Have you talked to Sara?”
She looks down, and stares at her feet, unable to meet my gaze.
Oh, this is bad, so fucking bad.
“Mom,” I say as my stomach twists, knots up. Bile punches into my throat. I swallow and try not to vomit. “Where is Sara? Did she go to her aunt’s?”
“Yes, she’s gone, Tyler. She left to go stay with her aunt in Indiana like you told her too. Lucas said the Phantoms were probably following her, and they trashed the office to really dig that knife in deep. According to Lucas, they didn’t want you around, and wanted to rob you of everyone, including your girl and her family. They couldn’t take you out themselves, not without consequences from Deacon. At least that’s Lucas’s theory.”
I curse under my breath. The thoughts of those fuckers following Sara, of something happening to her because of me, fills me with white-hot rage. Messing with me is one thing, but messing with those I love is another fucking thing entirely, and it’s time they damn well knew it.
I briefly pinch my eyes shut, but can’t dispel the way her haunted brown eyes looked at me when I told her to leave, like I was admitting guilt—again. That look had more power than a bullet to the head, a baton to the kidneys. Sara is my world, but I had to push her away for her own safety.
“I need to talk to her,” I say, as heartache sets my chest on fire, making it nearly impossible to breathe let alone speak.
“She came to say goodbye last night. She’s been hurt, Tyler. She doesn’t want you to try to contact her.”
Fear of losing Sara again fills that scraped out hole inside of me. “But—”
“Even if you’re not responsible for any of this, trouble follows you now, Tyler. You can’t bring Sara into this world.” A long pause and then, “It nearly killed her last time...It nearly killed us all.”
Anger pulses hard and deep inside of me, and it’s a good thing Lucas is currently behind bars. The truth is, I’m now one of Deacon’s men. I’ll always be one of his men, which means I’m the one responsible for putting Sara’s life at risk with the Phantoms. My fingers curl into fists. I’m a convicted criminal who attracts trouble. As long as I’m around her, will she ever be safe? Will my family ever be safe?
They’re better off without you, dude.
Mom touches my arm. “It’s what she wants, Tyler.”
What Sara wants, Sara gets…no matter what it will do to me.
As those words play over and over in my head, I turn my mother around, and tell her to go home. Head down and shoulders slumped, she walks away. I fucking hate how broken she looks, how much she’s been through.
I step up to my brothers, working to keep my shit together as my heart explodes in my chest. Emotions play no role in what I need to do. If the Phantoms catch a hint of weakness in me, it’ll be all over before it starts. Deacon is bound to get wind of how they set me up. Once he does, he’ll send in an army, and those fuckers will be lucky to live to talk about it. But this is personal and I want my chance at leveling those bastards, and showing them they fucked with the wrong guy.
Will this shit land me back in jail? Probably. Get me killed? Possibly. But I’ll do whatever it takes to protect those I fucking love. And when it comes right down to it, how the fuck can I go on without Sara in my life, anyway?
“Anyone know where the Phantoms chop shop is located? I need to pay them a visit.”
Justin, the toughest guy I know, eyes me carefully as Ryder pulls out his phone to make some calls.
“You’re not alone.” Justin holds his finger up and circles it. “We’re with you, brother,” he says and steps up to me, shoulders square as we stand eye to eye—a force united—like we’ve done so many times before.
I shake my head. “I’m not about to drag you guys into my trouble.”
“Your trouble is our trouble,” Christian says and cracks his knuckles again. I look over my four friends. Big strong, scary motherfuckers, tough and unintimidated, who are all under the umbrella of Deacon. We fought some hard-ass lifers behind bars, and came out alive. If we can’t stop the Phantoms with a straight-up beatdown, then Deacon can have his turn. One way or another, they won’t be going near my family again, and if I get caught in the crossfire, so be it.
Many hours later, walking the streets under the cover of darkness, we make our way to the chop shop—Ryder
having gotten the location from a contact. We cut down a long narrow street, and see a rundown laundromat at the back of a cracked and pitted driveway. The front for the gang’s illegal activities.
Breathing hard, I’m about to go in and take down the toughest bastard, when the wails of sirens fill the air. We all jump back, hiding in the shadows as numerous black and whites flood the streets, the vehicles closing in on the laundromat. Lucas’ plea must have worked. Doors bang as they’re being kicked in, and curses fill the air. Gunshots ring out, the sound splitting the quiet of the night.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Justin says and grabs the back of my shirt to tug me away. We bolt down the street until we reach Justin’s car parked in an alleyway. We jump in, and Justin peels away.
“Fuck, looks like we dodged a bullet there,” Ryder says.
Jamie grins. “Yeah, too bad. I was itching for a fight.”
From the passenger seat, I turn to Justin. “I need to go back to the courthouse. As soon as my brother is out on bond, I’m going to beat the shit out of him, then I’m getting out of this place.”
For good.
20
Sara
With my one week vacation coming to close, I toss my clothes into a suitcase and pad quietly down the hall to see Aunt Sandra before I head back to Middletown with Mom and Dad. I left like Tyler told me to—just like he did last time after he committed a crime—but now I need to get back to my life.
There is still a part of me that can’t believe he had a gun, and had beat the living hell out of Caleb, considering the non-violent way he handled the situation after Caleb had attacked me. I know there is violence in him. He needed it for survival, but he’s not shown that side since he’d been home. Not even when he came to my rescue at Studio Paris. He de-escalated the situation by pretending to be my boyfriend. Is it possible that he’s innocent—that I didn’t believe him because of past hurts?
Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?
I’m not sure, but one thing I do know is after everything we’d been through this last month, after getting to know this version of Tyler, I never in a million years thought he’d do anything that would land him behind bars again.
I take the stairs to the main floor, and my stomach cramps as I look at the framed pictures littering Aunt Sandra’s walls. Tyler and I talked about having a house like this some day, but sadly, that day will never materialize. At least while I was here hiding from reality, I was able to shut the world out and turn off my phone, concentrating only on my studies and mending my broken heart. But I’d come to the conclusion that there is no getting over Tyler. I was a fool to try. There is only moving forward, one day at a time.
“There you are,” Mom says as she lingers at the doorway waiting for me, her eyes full of motherly concern. Outside, Dad starts the car, the sound of the roaring engine cutting the tension in the room. “All set?”
I plaster on a smile and nod. “I just want to give Sandra a kiss goodbye. I’ll be right back.” I set my bag down, and step into Sandra’s bedroom off the main hallway to find her napping, a nurse fluttering about. She’s doing better after the stroke, but she still has a long way to go. It will be good when Mom and Dad move in at the end of the school year so they can keep a better eye on her.
“See you soon, Aunt Sandra,” I say quietly and bend to give her a kiss on the cheek.
Her eyes flicker open. “Sara, is that you?”
“It’s me. We’re heading back.”
Her hand closes over mine and squeezes. “So soon. You just got here.”
I’ve been here a week, but I don’t tell her that. Her memory has been affected by the stroke. “I have to get back to work,” I say.
A small smile pulls at her mouth. “And to that man of yours.”
Aunt Sandra never knew I’d gotten back together with Tyler. She must be pulling memories from a time long gone.
“Yes, for sure,” I say.
“When are you finally going to make me a great aunt?”
Never.
I force a chuckle, and say, “Oh there is plenty of time for that.”
“For you maybe, but not for me,” she says, and the reminder that life is short fills me with longing and heartache.
“You get some rest,” I say, and pat her hand.
Her eyes close and I think she’s drifted off, but then she says quietly, “Always trust your heart, Sara.”
I glance at the nurse who just shrugs and I assume she’s speaking gibberish. “Take care, Sandra,” I say and meet my parents in the driveway.
I climb into the back seat, and stare blindly at the trees as we drive back home. Many hours later, Dad drops me off outside my apartment, and grabs my bag from the trunk. I give Mom a hug and meet my father on the sidewalk.
His brows furrow as his gaze moves over my face, searching for the girl he once knew. But I’ll never be that girl again. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us tonight?”
“Positive,” I say. I relied heavily on my folks to get me through the dark days when Tyler left us. I can’t do that to them again—never thought I’d ever have to. But at least a decision has been made, and once I complete my degree, we’ll all make the move to Indiana, where I won’t see the ghost of Tyler on every street, the school…in my bed.
I choke back a tear, refusing to shed any more, and let myself into my building. I walk quietly down the hall, and open my door. The second I enter, my chest squeezes tight.
“Oh, God,” I cry, and close the door behind me so I can lean on it. My gaze darts from Tyler’s sweater, which is tossed haphazardly on my sofa, to his workout bag sitting near the front door. I press my palms to my eyes, desperate to block him from my life, and my heart.
I draw in a deep fueling breath, pick myself back up, and step into my kitchen. The little bit of wine left in my bottle isn’t going to cut it. A trip to the market is definitely in order. I turn and a sense of loneliness envelopes me. It’s so quiet and sad here without Tyler—all the more reason I need to move.
My phone pings and I dig it from my purse to read Kaitlyn’s message.
You home.
Just got here.
Want to go for a drink.
I’m not in the mood to go out but I get the sense that Kaitlyn will drag me out anyway.
Sure.
I’ll swing by and pick you up.
I walk into the other room, and when I see the red light on my phone flashing—a landline Dad insisted I install in case…in case of what I’ll never know. I stare at it for a minute and my heart does a little flip, but I quickly shut that shit down. I don’t care if Tyler is trying to reach me.
Yes, you do.
No, I don’t. Which is why I am not going to check those messages. I’m about to turn when some part of my brain urges me to press the damn button already. I pinch the bridge of my nose, and after a hard debate with myself, I decide to check—after all, it could be work.
I press the button, and disappointment I really don’t want to feel, takes up residency in my gut when Lucas’ voice comes through.
Sara, we need to talk.
What the hell? What could Lucas and I have to talk about? I listen to a few more messages, and they’re all from Lucas. If he’s trying to convince me to go visit Tyler, he can forget it. I’m done with his brother. Completely and utterly finished. I grab my coat, and head outside to wait for Kaitlyn on the curb, locking the ghosts of Tyler inside my apartment, unable to face them right now.
A car slowly drives by like someone is casing the place, then the wheels come to a screeching halt. What the hell? I back up as fight or flight instincts kick in. Lucas jumps from the passenger seat, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week.
“Sara, thank God. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Do you know where Tyler is?” he asks quickly, as he approaches.
I stand there dumbfounded. Why would he be asking me about Tyler’s whereabouts?
He tugs on his hair, such a familiar
gesture, and my heart aches with loss. “Sara, please, do you have any idea?”
“He’s in lockup, isn’t he?” Oh, God, please don’t tell me he escaped. I know I haven’t had the news on, but surely someone would have told me. Then again, I’ve had my phone off, but I would have heard about a manhunt on the national news stations right?
I glance at Lucas’ eyes, the yellow ring around one—the last remnants of a bad bruise. “What happened to your eye?”
“Tyler happened. He punched me in the face.”
I gasp. If he punched his own brother in the face, a guy he loves with his whole heart, then it really is possible he was the one who’d beaten Caleb. Why did I even, for one second, question that?
Because something isn’t right about all this. Your heart knows it.
“Then he took off, and I don’t know where he is.”
“What do you mean he took off?”
“You haven’t been talking to him?”
I exhale slowly. “No, he’s in prison.”
Lucas gives me a look that suggests I’m dense. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“Obviously not, Lucas. I’ve been away.”
He glances left, then right, and steps up to me, his look conspiratorial. “I’m the one who beat up Caleb and accidentally dropped my gun in Tyler’s car when I asked him to come pick the pieces of me off the street. I didn’t want to call him, but I had no choice. The Phantoms wanted me to kill Caleb. I knew I could never do it, so I attacked him from behind instead, and showed my gun, hoping to scare him out of town.”
I gasp and step back, nearly falling on my ass, when Lucas grabs my arm to keep me upright. “What the hell…”
“I’m sorry, Sara. He didn’t do any of this. I was working in the chop shop, but I wasn’t part of the gang. I didn’t want to do it, but then they said I either do what they told me to, or they’d go after my brother. They didn’t like one of Deacon’s men in their territory. He was framed, Sara. They set him up.” He shakes his head. “You were his alibi until I texted him. I’m guessing those bastards knew I would. They were probably following me. It’s all my fault.”