The doors slid shut and Tyson disappeared.
I was left alone in the elevator, trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened in the past few hours of my life, and how I could feel it changing so drastically with every second I spent in the small, enclosed space.
I headed to my room on legs that felt heavy and weighted, walking as if I was pushing myself through a heavy fog. It was how I had felt ever since I got knocked over on the plane. Drugged, foggy, and like I was living a dream.
—
Thirty minutes flew by when you were on the verge of having a heart attack alone in your hotel room. It was a beautiful room, with cream furnishings and rich mahogany wood. The Apollonio Hotel spared no expense, and was one of the most luxurious hotels in Detroit. My small one–bedroom suite was elegant, and had just enough space for me until I could find a place of my own.
It was the one concession my father allowed when I agreed to move back to Detroit. I refused to move back home, to be under guard twenty-four hours a day, and treated like a teenager instead of an adult.
Being the daughter of the Detroit crime family’s boss, I could understand why he’d want to keep me guarded, but I refused to allow him to put a man on me at all times like he’d originally wanted. After many arguments, he’d reluctantly acquiesced.
I was not blind to the fact that he was the king and ruler of various illegal activities, but until I was a teenager, I had been pretty ignorant of most of the work my father and his partners did.
I was only raised with everything I wanted…everything except my freedom.
Now that I had spent ten years living with full freedom, I still planned to live that same way, regardless of how much my father hated the idea.
If I was honest with myself, part of that freedom involved Tyson. I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t follow his football career at Central U after I was shipped away, in a very black-ops action movie sort of way, complete with bulletproof-windowed black SUVs in the middle of the night. I even watched Central U play on television whenever I could, and cried for Tyson when I saw his career-ending injury during his senior year. I knew how much football meant to him, how much he wanted to join the NFL. I had read reports saying he was one of the top five drafts picks. Everything ended in one missed tackle that left him unguarded and then sacked right before his team could win their last game of the year.
It was shortly after that my aunt refused to allow me to search for any mention of him online. After four years of wallowing, four years of missing him, wondering if he missed me, wondering if he really only dated me because his father wanted him close to my family…it was time to finally give him up.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to banish the memories of us, in the quiet of night, once the sun had set, my thoughts always drifted back to Tyson Blackwell.
The only man I had ever loved.
The only man I had ever wanted.
Now that I was home, and he was here, I had my own set of questions for him. He might have wanted to know why I disappeared, why I lied to him on our last night together…but I needed to know if everything before that night was a lie.
While I was washing my face and reapplying makeup, I remembered the look of shock on his face on the plane. The abhorrent look he gave me when I asked him if he’d tricked me like I’d always been told. Something about that night, the way I felt about him, wasn’t adding up in my head.
Brushing out my hair, I closed my eyes and sighed.
I had been a naïve teenager, a girl who always felt out of place in school because everyone knew who I was…who my family was and what my father did. If they didn’t, they certainly had their assumptions, and those were enough to force everyone to give me a wide berth. Everyone but Tyson, who somehow wormed his way into my life, and then my heart, when he asked me to be his date for homecoming.
Those memories that I had never been able to erase still hurt in a place deep inside of me, but if I was truly going to move on from Tyson once and for all, I needed the answers to my questions, just as I assumed he wanted one to his.
It was that fortifying thought that made me set down my brush and turn off the bathroom light. I changed my clothes, slipped into a pair of basic black ballet flats, and grabbed my purse before heading out the door and back down to the hotel’s lobby.
“You’re early.”
I jumped at the voice that came from behind me, and my hand flew to my chest. I gasped and turned around. “You scared me.”
Gone was the suit and professional look. In its place were casual jeans and a simple black T-shirt. The sleeves around Tyson’s biceps looked like they were fighting to stay stitched at the seams. When he crossed his arms over his chest and gave my body a languid perusal, I fought not to squirm in front of him.
“Sorry.” One side of his lips twitched.
I frowned. “You’re not sorry.”
“Nope.” He grinned.
“How’d you change?”
“Got my stuff out of coat check. I had to get out of the suit. You ready to eat?”
About as ready as I was to jump off the top of the hotel’s thirty-five-story building.
I gulped, nerves threatening to spill over. “Yup.”
Tyson lifted an arm and nodded toward the dining room. I took a step forward, flinching as Tyson’s hand landed on my lower back.
“Have I told you yet that it’s really good to see you?”
I shook my head and kept my eyes facing forward. His touch on my skin was incendiary—burning like dynamite and almost ready to explode.
“It is,” he said. “And you’re just as beautiful as I remember.”
I stumbled over my feet but quickly righted myself and cursed.
“Affected?” he asked, laughing softly.
“Just clumsy,” I muttered, feeling a heat spread to my cheeks.
“Don’t remember that about you.”
“People change, Tyson.”
His hand flinched off my back, and then his fingers dug into the fabric of my pale pink top. Even now, with just his fingertips pressing against me, I could feel the strength of him radiating through my clothing and into my skin.
I hadn’t changed. I had always been naturally clumsy. I just used to try to hide it better when I was with him. I used to try to hide my natural self from everyone. My mom’s constant reprimands to act like a Galecki were drilled into my mind, and they often left me feeling like I could never be myself. Tyson was the only one who got glimpses of it, but even then I never fully shed the Galecki skin until I grew comfortable on Eleanor’s farm.
Something about chasing around loose chickens that had escaped from their coop forced you to drop all pretenses of perfection. I couldn’t exactly look calm and collected when sprawled out in mud with chickens pecking at my upturned ass, while a pile of eggs lay splattered beneath me.
I stayed silent while a hostess led us to a booth at the back of the restaurant. It was more private, quieter, and slightly darker than the rest of the booths. There was an illusion of complete privacy, and I instantly didn’t like it.
Being so close to Tyson was shaking my already wobbly nerves.
I slid into the booth until I was hidden away in the darkened corner and jumped when his knee brushed against mine. I avoided eye contact with him while the waitress came and took our drink orders.
Once my Moscow Mule was set in front of me, I immediately ordered a chef salad. My stomach was tight and I didn’t think I’d be able to eat much. I was unsettled by this whole day, helping Eleanor on the farm before I took off, rushing through the airport, the plane ride, and everything that was Tyson.
The vodka helped me, slightly. Mostly it shot straight to my brain, leaving me even fuzzier than before, but at least my pulse had slowed a bit.
“What were you doing in Denver?” I asked Tyson after the silence became unbearable. I didn’t know if he was waiting for me to speak, or trying to put his own questions into words.
His thumb trailed down his dark brown beer bottle, picking up small drops of condensation. I wanted to be those water drops. My lips parted as I watched him bring his thumb to his mouth and slowly lick them off.
I swallowed thickly. It was hot in this restaurant. The air-conditioning must have been broken or something. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck, and I squirmed in my chair, becoming even more uncomfortable.
“Meeting with a client,” he finally said. One perfect eyebrow arched up. “And you?”
I licked my lips and took a sip of my own cool drink. I was stalling and I didn’t miss the disappointment that flashed in his eyes when I didn’t immediately answer.
“I lived there,” I whispered, staring at my plate. I didn’t want to get into this, and as I took a bite of my salad, I began to feel everything pressing down on me. The past, the day…I didn’t want to answer the questions I knew he had because it meant having to face my own.
Either way, it meant I would finally have confirmation that Tyson had lied to me, or I would have to face the new doubt that had just surfaced: wondering if my dad had lied to me.
“Hey,” Tyson said, nudging my knee with his under the table. When I pulled my eyes up to his, his smile softened.
Seeing him relaxed made something melt inside of me.
It might have been my heart, melting into a pile of mushy goo.
“How about we forget the past for tonight? Forget the questions we both have and just enjoy each other?”