by Kat Kenyon
Mr. Blackman squints at her, irritation leaking through the placid mask he’s trying to hold on to.
“Tyler became one of the CU’s prized playmakers after walking on in miraculous fashion, and has been touted in many corners, as a hero for the shocking rescue of fellow student, Rayne Mathews, after she was found beaten and brutalized on CU’s campus. News of his impressive grades and performance made him well-known in sport circles, but his heroic actions have made him a household name across our fair area, bleeding into the national consciousness.”
Turning her rail-thin frame to Richard, she gives a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you and your wife are immensely proud of everything your son’s accomplished in the last six months.”
With the barest hesitation and flaring of his nose, he smiles sadly. “We are. We raised Ty to do his best, to do the right thing. I know he’s tried to do that.”
“Following in your footsteps, I understand. You were a college football player who took his degree and built a successful company from scratch.”
Richard’s chest puffs up. “Absolutely. I taught him everything he knows.” Flashing white teeth, he tries to look humble, but his tone is anything but. “I worked with him on his game, I taught him about hard work. I know how hard the real world is, and I wanted my son to be able to thrive. It’s what we do as parents.”
Looking into the camera, Paradise gives an understanding nod. “It absolutely is. Parents want the best for their children.”
Tyler snorts in disbelief under his breath and flips a finger at the screen.
“This recent situation has to break your heart. What’s it been like?”
Richard moves as if he aches as he says, “Honestly, Paradise, it has been a nightmare.”
The snake smile reappears before she covers her real self too. “How do you mean?”
Touching his puffy eye, he stares in the camera. “Ty started pulling away from us during fall semester. Staying out, taking trips, his costs going up, all with no explanation. It was the normal growing up thing until he started dating that girl.” His grimace is pained. “Suddenly, my son stopped doing things the right way. The way he was raised. He was acting out, getting into trouble, and it continued even after their breakup.”
Sliding her hand over his, Paradise purrs in sympathy. “That sounds terrible. How bad did it get?”
He gestures at his face. “My son, he, he struck me. For the first time. He got in fights, then brought them home. It’s created a rift in our family I’m not sure can be repaired.” Ice frosts his eyes. “That girl brought misery to my family. She purposely got between us and changed Ty. He’s violent. Angry. Arrogant. Willful. He’s not the son I raised since he met her.”
Tyler starts cursing, still focused on the screen, and my legs feel like they’re going to give out.
This is what people will think.
“Are you sure it’s her?” Asked another way, it would be a decent question, but this is a setup, and I know something awful is coming.
Nodding with fake mildness, he answers. “Ty became a completely different person because of Rayne Mathews, and it doesn’t surprise me. She comes from a drug-addicted mother, her father’s absent. She was caught making false accusations against the same boy being hunted now and nothing was found. She uses skills learned from her con-of-a-mother to make my son see things that aren’t there.”
“Which is?”
“A nice girl. She’s a fraud, who latched onto Ty to set herself up in a nice cushy life. One she wants, but can’t earn on her own.” Looking into the camera, the hardness and cold returns to his face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she set up this whole attack to earn sympathy and keep him with her.”
Cue faux shock. “Mr. Blackman. Richard. The police are sure she was attacked. In fact, the reports supplied are clear her injuries were extensive.”
His eyes roll. “I know she had injuries, but there’s no proof she didn’t set it up or that she didn’t consent. She’s been in the hospital before.”
Rage and horror lance through me, replacing the hurt with destruction.
“Her mother didn’t believe her the first time. She still doesn’t. That’s probably why she threw her in the loony bin.”
For a moment, Paradise’s face pales. “I know there are rumors she was in the hospital, but what you’re talking about is something else completely.”
“It’s true.” A smug smile replaces the mask he’s worn up until now. “Her mom threw her in with the crazies, because even she thought this has gone too far. That girl has ripped my family to shreds. Now there’s a boy on the run, and my son is spending money he doesn’t have to try to take care of her. The best penthouse, the best vehicles, round-the-clock security, lawyers. You name it, he’s putting his name and mine on the line to take care of a liar and a fraud.”
Shifting in her seat, her smile gets tight. “Are you paying?”
“No, because of the divorce she created in my family, my money is locked up trying to salvage the company.”
“Your divorce from Ty’s mom?”
“She left me because of this girl. Now she claims I abused my son, which is absurd.” He points at himself. “My face. If you see my son, his face is fine, but this is what he did to me.”
Her sharp inhale sounds genuine. “Your son did this?”
He gives her a self-satisfied nod. “This is what’s been done to my family. To me. She’s toxic, and people need to know it before they support her little vendettas.”
“You’ve given us a lot to think about.” She turns to the camera, eyes wide. “Thank you so much for joining us tonight and sharing one of the things happening tonight in LA.” Her smile turns on, voice clear and slippery again. “We’ll be back after this break to see what’s happening elsewhere in our fair city.”
Tyler drops his face in his hand, pissed and exhausted.
I don’t know if it’s a whimper, a whine, or just the escaping steam from the black pit in my stomach, but he whips around and sees me for the first time.
“Motherfucker!” Rising to his feet, his eyes blaze. “Baby.”
“Don’t.”
His palms rise, pulsing in supplication. “Bab—”
“Don’t!”
The wall hits my back. I don’t know how I ended up against it, but his eyes widen.
“I would never hurt you.”
Even as I know I shouldn’t, I can’t stop myself. “I’m fucking hurting you!”
“Bullshit.”
Spinning away from the wall, I storm into the kitchen, dishes from the last couple days sitting in the rack to dry on the counter. The normalcy of clean dishes has never been a part of my life. And it hits me: My life is exactly what Richard says it is.
“I’m a fake.” My fingers close around the mug in front of me, noticing how clean it is.
His fists clench. “My dad is a hateful piece of shit.”
He steps into the gap between the wall and the breakfast bar, getting closer. “He’s a liar.”
“I asked for it, you heard them!”
The crash of the mug against the door startles us both, but I don’t stop. My other hand grips a glass, and it smashes against the door, but Tyler doesn’t move. He doesn’t stop me as I grab more. Instead, his hand grips the counter. “I did. And I know he’s a fucking liar, so I’m not giving him what he wants!”
Glasses in both hands, I throw them with everything I’ve got. “I’m a liar. Everyone knows I tricked you!”
A plate flies like a frisbee and shatters, then another.
Tyler snorts. “That’s bullshit, and everyone who matters knows it.”
I launch a third and a fourth, sending glass everywhere. “I’m the daughter of a fucking druggie, Tyler!” Two more explode and my body vibrates harder with each crash. I can’t control it and start throwing spoons and forks. “No one cares when it’s the con’s daughter making you split your family up!”
The knife we used on the pizza yesterday appears
in my hand and I don’t think before I throw it. The ping of the tip landing in the door stops me as a hissing “fuuu” coming from Tyler, and we both stare where it sticks, before the weight pulls it out and it clatters to the floor amongst the shards of glass and steel.
I could have hurt him.
The enormity of my actions is represented by the small divot in the white perfection and I slip to the floor. I’ve never lost control like that.
I’m not violent.
Huge arms wrap around me as he slides behind me, pulling me into his lap. His gentle shushing and the slow rocking back and forth shake loose heaving sobs. I can’t breathe around memories of pain and water. Disgust and thunder. Shame and darkness only relieved by moments where he loves me, barrel through every fiber of my body, ripping them apart, leaving me a pathetic mess. I can’t control…anything.
“He hurt me!” Desperate words on scarce air.
“I know.” He’s crying with me, which only makes this worse. “I know, and the police better find him before I do, or they won’t find him at all.”
“You—you hit your dad!”
The crushing squeeze of his arms is the only thing holding me in one piece. “It isn’t the first time, and after today, it won’t be the last.” Rage bleeds into his voice, but not into his embrace.
When I don’t respond. He says again, “Hey, it’s not the first time.” Rocking me harder. “You were a catalyst, not the cause. This is about him.” His hands flex, even the one in recovery. “He did this, not you. He’s been hitting me since I was little, so he had this coming.”
“I hate—”
He turns me to face him. “We hate this. We hate this situation. But don’t even think about blaming yourself.”
“He wouldn’t be this angry if not for me.”
“Yeah, baby, he would.” Shaking me gently, he kisses my forehead.
Each word slows the tears until they come to a stop, leaving me a salty, red-faced mess. I could pretend I don’t hear him, or that I want to leave, but I don’t. The idea leaves me empty.
“What now?”
His thumb brushes under my eyes, a soft smile. “We keep our shit together.”
“What about your dad? And, fuck.” I’m still so mad at Anne and Gramps. “What do we do about my grandfather butting in?”
“Clear them out like the irrelevant trash they are.”
This is how he’s kept me moving for over a month. Tyler wipes away my doubts with how sure he is. While moving forward is blurry to me, it isn’t to him. I once thought he was an immovable object facing down an unstoppable force, but I was wrong. He’s both immovable and unstoppable when he knows what he wants. And if we’re going to survive, I need to trust him.
I do. Completely.
I couldn’t leave him if I tried.
I don’t want to.
“You need to make a stand with your gramps,” he says softly. “Arnowsky will handle the legal part, but you need to be the one to tell him to go fuck himself.”
Deep in my gut, the fire kindles, wanting to burn the Mathews family to the ground. “And your dad?”
He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll handle that. I plan to make him sorry he opened his mouth. I’m not the same person I was three months ago. He played the family man for too long, and the people he works with are the kind of people who won’t work with him once they know the truth.”
There’s a darkness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and I have to ask, “So, no room for talking to him?”
Folding himself around me, he presses his lips to my skin. “There’s nothing to talk about, baby. This is war and we’re gonna burn and salt the earth of anyone who comes for us.”
It’s a pledge. A promise. And a prediction.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tyler Blackman
Rayne fell asleep wrapped around me on the couch. Our afternoon nap wasn’t enough after a day of panic. Not that I blame her. I think finally losing it was a good thing, but it drained me too.
I called Granddad while she slept to let him know what happened. He wasn’t happy. He warned me to give my coach a heads-up, but said he’d figure out how to handle the media, Dad, and Mathews. Since he’s vicious, I’m happy to have him go on the attack.
We need a win.
Our core group is coming over to watch a movie, eat, and chill. It did her good last night, and I want her happy. So, when Tegs, Tate, Bay, and his girlfriend, Kris, show up bearing pizza, adult beverages of all kinds, and snark, I’m happy to see them.
Bay slaps me on the back as I grab drinks for Rayne and me. “Hey man, you been watching the Combine?”
That’s right. All our graduating players on the team spent the last eight weeks getting ready to show their stuff. Some have special opportunities, but most have to rely on this to show teams what they have to get into the Draft. It’s no small thing.
“No. I should have.”
“McVey’s up tonight.”
Rayne walks out of the bedroom just in time to say, “Dylan’s up to what?”
Bay holds his arms out and pulls her into a hug. “Quarterbacks are being road-tested in Indiana. We’ll see how he does.”
I roll my lips with a smirk. “McVey’s gonna smoke ’em.”
“No shit.” Bay gives Rayne a shake, and I’m thrilled she doesn’t look scared. “He’s got one or two real competitors in this year’s class, but I don’t see them getting taken before him.”
My phone buzzes again, letting me know more people are here, and I hand the drinks to Rayne. Within a couple minutes, the knocking starts with a booming voice. “Let us in!”
I open the door to find Kevin, Mike, and Ethan, who’s standing in front with his fists up from beating on the door.
“What are you doing here?” I shove the blond jackass away and give my fist to Mike.
Ethan waves me off. “You both love me, admit it!” Dumping chips, dip, and cookies onto the table, he doesn’t slow down, heading past everyone to plop his annoying ass in the spot Rayne was saving for me.
He gives her a noogie, but gets a punch and a finger in the face as the other two come in, dropping more food and scattering across the room. “We watching the Combine?” Ethan asks, purposely leaning on Rayne, crowding her with his shoulder.
She pokes him in the side and watches him shiver and pull back. A dangerous smile lights up her face as soon as she realizes she got him, and she attacks his sides, tickling him until he scoots to the other side of the couch.
“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” She smirks darkly.
“Not cool, Lil, not cool,” he pouts.
Tegs chuckles, leaning back in Rayne’s favorite chair, Tate sitting on his lap. “Can’t have weaknesses, man.”
“I don’t, it’s just a…” Ethan pauses and gives Rayne a devious side eye. “Glitch. It’s just a minor glitch.”
“Well, it had you running away from her.”
Tate pokes his cheek. “This coming from the guy who sounds like the Pillsbury Dough Boy when I poke him?”
Tegs’s face pinkens. “That is not true. I’m nothing…I don’t look like the muffin man!”
“Not look,” she says. A split second later she goes for his waist, and he lets out a squeal. “Sounds like. You are the PDB, the Pillsbury Dough Boy!”
He writhes and grabs for her wrists, locking them together in one hand the size of a bear’s paw. She doesn’t give up and two seconds later, he has her on the floor, tickling her.
When Kevin slides into their chair, Tegs reaches for him, and Tate rolls on her side, trying to wiggle out of his legs, and suddenly there’s a mess of Kevin, Tegs, Tate, and Mike for some reason, wrestling with each other. Both guys are trying to help Tate take down the mountain that is Tegan Theodore Gronowsky the 3rd. It takes a lot longer than you’d expect, considering he only outweighs Mike by thirty pounds, but it’s enough.
Finally, two guys hold him down while Tate goes in for the kill, getting astride his hips and tickling
up and down his sides while he wheezes in laughter.
“And I have a weakness?” Ethan laughs, watching the whole mess with a grin. “I may have a glitch, man, but I don’t have a woman to exploit it in front of my friends!”
Tegs heaves in laughter and finally taps out. “Three of you!” He shoves Kevin out of the chair and reaches for Tate, dragging her back onto his lap. “It took three of you fuckers to do that!”
“It’s still a weakness, PDB,” Tate sings in his face, her skin bright pink from playing.
“It doesn’t count!”
“It does,” the boys tease.
“Three. Against. One!” he pants, neon pink.
“Glitch? His name is Dough Boy!” Ethan laughs.
Shaking his head, he squeezes Tate, who wraps her arms around him, smiling from ear to ear. “Battle lost, but I always win the war!”
Watching Rayne laugh, I’m relieved, and flip on the Combine, letting everyone settle in and cheer as they see the quarterback rankings with Dylan McVey’s name right at the top.
Dylan has aced the earlier performance metrics with only one other quarterback lifting more reps than him. Each time they compliment the other players, we hiss.
That’s my quarterback.
Two hours of storytelling and cheering pass quickly. It feels like it did during our fall study groups, only we have an extra chucklehead in Ethan, who can’t help being himself.
When Dylan runs the forty-yard dash, blasting the rest of the competitors, we all cheer. He finishes with a superhero smile, causing all the girls to give exaggerated swoons and another round of cheers and groans from everyone, including Rayne, who does a dramatic collapse into my lap.
My phone buzzes during the vertical jumps. Swiping it to take a look at who needs my attention, I go stiff when there’s a notice that Anne’s downstairs and wants to come up.
The idea that she showed up without calling pisses me off, especially since Rayne’s having a good time, but I can’t turn her away without asking, so I flash the text at Rayne.