by Mary Martel
I wasn’t jealous at the thought of him going off alone to visit some female. No, not jealous, but concerned he did not look okay; whoever he’d gone to see had really done a number on him. It was more than that, though, he looked like he had seen several sleepless nights. When was the last time I’d seen him before today? Two, three days ago? I couldn’t remember exactly, and that bothered me as well.
“Is this place okay?” I asked in a quiet voice. I worried speaking any louder would spook him.
A sharp blast of heat hit me, making me flinch. It didn’t burn me, it simply surprised me and caught me off guard. It had a taste of sadness and regret to it. It burned out fast, but left a bad taste behind in its wake. He’d just projected and blasted me with what he was feeling on the inside.
Jesus.
“Tyson,” I choked out.
Slowly, his head swiveled to the side and he looked at me through those big, sad brown eyes.
“This is fine, Ariel,” he said as he pushed the button to unlatch his seatbelt.
Ariel, he’d called me. Not girl. I desperately wanted him to call me girl again.
“If you’re not sure-”
“Uncle Quint and I used to come here every time he came to visit before my parents died. He would bring me here, claiming he needed a break from dad bossing him around.” He laughed humorlessly. “Now he bosses me around the same way dad did to him. Damn. And he doesn’t even see it. It drives me crazy the same way it used to drive him crazy when dad did it.” He sighed and to me it sounded sad. “I wish he could see it through my eyes. Just once. He might be less of an asshole then.”
I frowned at him, not liking him calling Quinton an asshole. I mean, he was an asshole, and didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Frankly, I think he liked being an asshole, but what did I know? I didn’t like people calling him names, though.
It shouldn’t have bothered me so much that Tyson had called his Uncle an asshole. Then again, it would have bothered me if Quint was calling Tyson an asshole, too.
I shivered. Damn it. Tyson blasting me with his emotions had really messed with mine. This had never happened to me before. Just what exactly had he pushed out?
I fought the urge to panic, and, thankfully, won.
I needed to get out of this closed space and put some distance between us.
I shut down the Rover and unbuckled my seatbelt. The air inside was suffocating, and I had to get out of there. I had to.
Almost blindly, I reached for the handle on the door that would free me from the confines of the vehicle and Tyson’s extreme emotions. My fingers caught on the handle. I pulled my keys out of the ignition and yanked on the handle. I gave a push and the door flew open.
I stumbled out of the Rover, and I quickly slammed the door shut behind me.
I drew in a shaky breath.
Tyson might be in pain emotionally, but that didn’t stop me from adding him to my shit list.
Chapter Four
The hostess motioned towards our table with a sweep of her small hand as she smiled sweetly at Tyson and peeked up at him from behind half lowered eyelids. She might not have meant anything by it, but I hated her all the same.
“Please,” she murmured in a husky voice. “Have a seat. Your waitress will be along shortly.”
Tyson slid in to the booth opposite me as he shot her an absent minded grin, albeit, a small one.
I slid in on my side, and she didn’t even bother to look in my direction, her eyes were all for Ty.
“I’m Becca, by the way,” she told him in that stupidly husky voice of hers.
Now why did we need to know her name, she was the damn hostess for goodness sake. Answer, we didn’t. She thought my boyfriend was hot because he just plain was, and she wanted him to notice her. It didn’t matter to her that he’d come here with another girl; she was so confident in her own attractiveness that she didn’t see me as competition at all. She thought she could steal him away from me simply by batting those stupid eyelashes and practically purring at him in that husky voice of hers.
I thought about telling her that he didn’t care what her name was, but I didn’t want to be one of those girls.
If I wanted my relationship with Ty to work out, then I would have to get over other people noticing just how attractive he was. It was something I would likely have to overcome with all of the guys, because none of them were ugly.
She flounced away, adding an exaggerated sway to her hips that hadn’t been there when we’d followed her to the table. She thought she had him, that he’d be watching the show she was putting on for his eyes only.
She had nothing he wanted, and Tyson’s dark, soulful eyes were all for me. If he’d told her his name, I missed it.
I smiled at him softly and his eyes lit up.
“I could care less,” he told me.
“So could I,” I lied, and I knew from the slight curving upwards of his lips that he knew I was lying to him.
Thankfully, he left it alone instead of picking at me. If it had been several of the other guys, I was certain they would have picked at me.
He lifted his hand, placing it on the table and started sliding it across, towards me.
I knew what he wanted, and I didn’t make him ask for it. I placed my hand on the table and slid it his way, not stopping until he wrapped his larger hand around my smaller one. The moment our skin touched, his heat hit me, and I gasped quietly. I hadn’t been prepared for it, I’d forgotten. Tingles slithered up my arm, his magic caressing me. I shivered as I stared into the dark depths of his eyes as he met my gaze with a heated one of his own.
His nostrils flared as he dropped his eyes to my lips, and his fingers tightened around my own.
“Hello there,” came an obnoxiously chirpy female voice. “I… Oh…”
Becca, the hostess, had left our table and gone off to run her mouth to the waitstaff, probably the rest of the staff as well. They thought they had a live one on their hands. Judging by that disappointed sounding “oh,” Becca had failed to mention the hot guy had come with female companionship.
Oh, well… her disappointment wasn’t my problem. She could kiss my butt.
“We’ll take water, coffee, and menus.” Tyson told her without breaking eye contact with me or letting go of my hand. He was proving a point to me, he really hadn’t cared earlier, and didn’t now. Maybe it had even bothered him that I had cared. If I was a better person I would tell him to stop, that it wasn’t necessary. Today, I wasn’t feeling like a very good person.
“Right,” she muttered in a not so chirpy voice.
Tyson’s lips twitched as he fought off a smile, like he found the waitress’s tone amusing.
I felt her moving away from the table and, suddenly uncomfortable, I tried to pull my hand away from his. It wasn’t anything he’d done that made me uncomfortable. It was me, I didn’t like being a petty person, and I didn’t enjoy feeling insecure.
His grip on my hand tightened, refusing to let me go.
“Oh no,” he said in a soft voice with an edge to it. “You don’t get to run away from me, and you don’t get to hide. We’re past that point, you and I. You wouldn’t like it if I tried to hide from you or pulled away constantly.”
He had a point, and it was weird because I actually liked that he straight out called me on my BS, but… wasn’t that a bit hypocritical coming from him at the moment? Just my two cents.
I sighed and focused on what was important, for now.
I gently shook my hand in his. “You’re right, no more running away. I did promise. It’s just that sometimes I’m not exactly comfortable with myself, and I have a problem with projecting it on to others. It’s my problem, not yours. And I am trying to work on it. Your Uncle usually calls me out for it and I-”
Snapped my mouth shut. I’d almost told him I loved Quinton for it. No way did I want to go around blurting that outrageous nonsense out. I mean, it was the truth, I did love Quinton, but I wasn’t ready to admit it out lo
ud when I cringed every time I thought about it in my head.
Tyson squinted his eyes at me as he studied my face. “You, what? What were you going to say, Ariel?”
Back to being Ariel, not that we’d left off from it this time.
Nope.
We were so not going down that bumpy backwoods dirt road. No thank you. Not to mention Quinton would hate it if I told someone else that I loved him before telling him. I didn’t think it was a competition for him, but he did always seem to want to be first with everything. I didn’t think it mattered, but guys saw things differently. Something about having a penis seemed to do strange things to them.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I told him. It was a bluff because I knew he wasn’t ready to talk about what was bothering him.
He scowled at me and let go of my hand. Funny, when it was me pulling away I was running, and he called me out on it, but I was nice enough to let his hand go and not try to hold on to him when he wanted to be let go.
“Ariel,” he said my name in a pained voice. “You don’t want to know my shit, trust me.”
I did trust him, but he was wrong. I always wanted to know everything about everything. I’d thought he knew that.
The waitress came back with a tray held high in one hand that was loaded down with a clear water pitcher, two plastic tumblers, coffee cups on saucers and a bunch of cream and sugar packets. Her other hand was wrapped around the black handle of a coffee carafe. She placed both on the table like she’d been doing it a while and it came easy to her.
I took the time to look her over, which I hadn’t gotten the chance to do the first time she’d come around, all I’d seen was Tyson. She was pretty, in the traditional, girl next door type of way. She had light brown hair that hung down around her shoulders in soft waves. Her eyes were the color of honey, and she had peaches and cream skin, the perfect complexion. She was on the short side and very, very pretty. Why, oh why, couldn’t she at least have a little acne on that sweet face of hers? Some people had all the luck.
My hand twitched involuntarily, I wanted to reach up and trace fingertips over the smooth, almost white scar on my face. If Julian hadn’t used his healing magic on me, there would be a wicked angry, jagged, curved, red scar on my face. Julian had an impressive skill set, and I’d barely breached the surface of knowledge where Julian’s skills were concerned.
“Coffee,” she muttered. “Water. And menus.”
She plucked two menus that had been smooshed between her body and her arm out, and slapped them down on the table. She really was not happy with my presence, and I wondered if maybe she knew him. He didn’t seem to know her.
Hmm…
“Thanks,” I said sweetly, because what else could I do? I wasn’t into making a scene, besides, she’d only looked so far, and that wasn’t overstepping or worth a drink splashed in her face.
She glared at me and said in a snotty voice, “Just so you know, I don’t like you, and if I could refuse you service without losing my job, then I would.”
Whoa…
I blinked slowly, in shock. I hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth.
“Excuse me?” I asked, too shocked to come up with anything else to say. I couldn’t understand why she would have such a strong dislike of me upon just meeting me, it couldn’t only be because she wanted Ty.
She sneered down at me. “You heard me, Ariel.”
I did not like the ugly way she’d said my name. Hell, I didn’t even like that she knew my name. How did she know me? I had never seen her before in my entire life.
Becca the hostess strolled up to our table. “Is there a problem here?” she purred.
I noticed she didn’t look concerned. Instead, she looked excited, almost eager. If I hadn’t liked her before, that look alone would have done it for me.
“We’d like a new waitress, if you don’t mind.” Tyson growled in a low, angry voice. “This one sucks at her job.”
I thought she’d been good at her job until she’d opened her mouth and said that last bit.
“Sorry,” the hostess said, not sounding like she was sorry at all. “We don’t have a problem with you, Tyson, you’re welcome here any time. But, this bitch,” she lifted her hand and waved vaguely in my direction, “needs to leave. We grew up with Chucky; most of us in town are good friends with him. I don’t know what’s happening with him, no one does, because he won’t talk to anyone, but I do know it’s bad news and it’s all because of her. There’s something not right about her.”
She was, of course, right – in part. But then it hadn’t been me who’d done something to him. And, what had Adrian said earlier? That Chucky had planned on doing something awful to me? So, really Quinton messing with his mind had actually done me a favor. I had wronged Chucky in no way, I couldn’t control what other people did, just like I couldn’t control what Chucky had thought or did, I couldn’t control Quinton. And I didn’t want to be able to.
“Fuck this,” Tyson snapped as he began to slide out of the booth. “Neither of you knows what the fuck you’re talking about. If your friend wasn’t a fucking psycho, he wouldn’t be in the position he’s found himself in. He attacked Ariel with a knife, and he stabbed our friend. They both had to be hospitalized, for Christ’s sake. How in the hell you can stand there and defend someone like that is beyond me, but I know it makes you an asshole, and certainly not someone I want to know anymore about, not even so much as your stupid fucking name.”
“I know she’s a freak,” the waitress spat out as she jabbed her finger angrily in my direction, completely missing Tyson’s point, that whatever happened to Chucky was justly deserved. “And her mother is a dirty, gold digging whore. Must be what she sees in you. Green.”
The hostess gasped, shocked, I think. She hadn’t expected her buddy to take it so far. Neither had I.
I didn’t care what she said about my dead fake mother, or that she’d called me a freak. Maybe I even was one. But mean words out of the mouths of people like this chick no longer held any weight with me. She called me names like freak because she wasn’t entirely happy with herself. If she was happy with herself, I was convinced she wouldn’t be looking for reasons to tear other people down. Have I mentioned how much I think girls suck? Yeah? Well, I hadn’t even been lying.
Tyson rose to his feet and held his hand out to me. I slide to the end of the booth and reached for his outstretched hand as I stood. He held on tight as he pulled me in close to his side. I didn’t protest him pulling me around, a united front was what we needed at the moment, what I needed.
“You’re a slut, too.” The waitress spat out angrily. To my utter surprise, she was glaring at Tyson when she said it, her words meant for him.
My eyes widened in shock and my mouth dropped open. Tyson was a slut? This was news to me. I knew both Dash and Damien had been with a whole lot of women, but as far as I knew, Tyson hadn’t been.
What was going on? Was this jealousy speaking? Probably.
“You were just in here the other day with a redhead.” She accused.
I squeezed Tyson’s hand painfully, probably bruising him and myself. I didn’t care about bruising. My stomach rolled and the urge to vomit was suddenly strong.
Damn it all to hell.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to chase the tears that wanted out back where they belonged. It was easier than it would have been a month ago. That thought almost frightened me, I was changing, becoming a different version of myself, and I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
I thought I knew what redhead the girl had spoke of.
“Her face had something wrong with it,” the waitress murmured. “One second it looked like she had burns on her face, and the next it was smooth, perfect. It’s weird, I had forgotten all about it until now.”
And just like that, the girl had confirmed it for me, my worst nightmare. The other day, Tyson had visited this place and he’d come with The Dreaded Annabell.
The light dawned, and I turned to look at him through wide, hurt-filled eyes. That’s where he had been coming from, that was the she he’d been with.
“What’s going on?” I choked out in a tight voice.
His dark, burning gaze landed on me, his eyes wide and wild. Oh, this was not good.
“Do you trust me?” he asked in an angry voice, a voice I knew had absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with the situation. I didn’t take it personally.
I nodded my head without hesitation. Part of me wanted to say no just to be difficult, but I didn’t want to be a liar, not when the situation didn’t call for it.
“Thank you for that. I will explain everything when we are out of here.”
Why would he bring her somewhere he and Quinton went out to eat, some place he had good memories, some place he brought me? That certainly didn’t sit well with me.
Ignoring the staff, Tyson tugged on my arm, intent on dragging me away from the table. I went willingly enough, wanting to get the heck out of there.
The waitress surprised us both when she reached out, grabbed ahold of Tyson’s arm, the one not connected to my hand, and visibly sunk her fingernails into his skin.
The light above us flickered briefly.
I was going to kill her.
“Get your hand off of him,” I shouted at her. “Right now.”
I watched in horror as she sunk her nails in deeper and red bloomed to life around her fingertips. She’d done that one because I’d said something, it was my fault Tyson was now bleeding. I didn’t like feeling like she’d hurt him worse because I’d said something to her, I didn’t like feeling guilty over the actions of others. It made me angry, and when I got angry I was learning that I did inexcusable things.
I put my free hand in her shoulder and shoved none too gently. She went back a step as her upper body jerked back with the force of my shove. Her nostrils flared angrily as her eyes took on a wild, feral look. She was beyond mad. Now I’d gone and done it. Why did people of the same sex always seem to end up looking at me through crazy eyes that shouted how much they wanted to punch me right in the face? Well, more like slap me in the face, this girl looked like a hair puller, and those were usually the slapper types.