Tyed(75)

“Guess you’ll just have to ask him for yourself.” I feign a sugary smile and press the accelerator to the floor. That’s enough bonding time for me with Mama Wilder.

I parallel park in front of Ty’s house and immediately regret it. Why am I parking if I don’t want to go inside? But I do want to go inside. I want to see him. I dragged his mom here so he’d have someone near him, so he wouldn’t be alone. But frankly, I’m the one who should be helping him.

I glance at his fence. It’s totally full of a new collection of souvenirs, courtesy of his female fans. Honest to God, if we ever get back together, the first thing I’m doing is tearing that fence down.

The Harley is off the porch and lying on its side in the yard. Judging by the high grass, the bike had been lying there for weeks. The curtains are drawn and everything is locked and dim, inside and out. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he took off and abandoned the place.

Mary studies his house from the car window. She scowls at the fence. “Some girls just make it goddamned hard not to hate ’em.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Men are worse.”

I bully her out of the car after a five-minute pep talk. Yes, he’ll want to see you, I assure her. No matter what happened between you two, blood is thicker than water. Honestly, I have no idea how Ty is going to react when he sees his mom. If I were him, I would be very suspicious of her. After all, she only agreed to see him after I bribed her with groceries and a manicure. But I so desperately don’t want him to be alone right now, I’m taking a chance on her.

Mary finally sighs and opens her door. “Fine, time for us to go in.”

“Us?” I raise an eyebrow. “This is where my journey ends. I’m not coming in with you.”

“Like hell you aren’t. I’m not going in there by myself. What if he throws me out? I'll need a ride home. Come inside with me and then leave.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I’m starting to see why women have such a hard time with their mothers-in-law.

“Fuck, you’re so stubborn!” I rub my forehead, thumping one hand on the steering wheel.

“Ty never went for the wallflower type, but you really are a ballbuster, aren’t you?” She smirks to herself. “I’m guessing by now you know that the Wilders are a stubborn bunch. Let's go.”

“Yeah, okay,” I finally say, killing the engine and reluctantly getting out of the car. The walk to his front door is agonizing. I’m happy and excited and sad and frustrated all at the same time. I’m the one who knocks on the door three times while Mary hides behind my back. No one answers, and there’s no sound coming from inside. I knock again, harder.

Nothing.

I ring the bell multiple times, and finally walk around to one of the side windows, rapping against the glass with the side of my fist. I peek inside to his living room. The lights are turned off, and the place looks like it’s been raided by the FBI, CIA and a pack of wolves.

“Ty!” I yell. “Open up. It’s me.”

I listen and hear a rustling noise and what sounds like an empty can rolling across the floor. I catch a glimpse of his tall figure floating toward the front door like a ghost, so I run back to the porch. Mary is standing wide-eyed, obviously expecting instructions.

“He’s coming,” I mouth. She turns to face the door, running her hand through her frizzy hair. I hear a chain clinking and jump in front of Mary so she won’t be the first face that he sees. He swings the door open and stands in front of me, shirtless.

And...well, he is definitely not the sex on legs I've gotten used to.

At his prime, Ty Wilder has out-hotted Brad Pitt and Charlie Hunnam. Combined. Yeah, he was that gorgeous. Now? Not so much. He’s gotten scary-thin, frail and looks about as lively as a corpse. His skin clings to his bones like an oversized shirt, his eyes vacant, glazed with apathy. I want to kill myself for doing this to him, and kill him for doing this to me.

“Seriously?” His eyes shoot to his mother. “What’s this, your little revenge on me?”

“Heard you were struggling—”

“So you thought, why not push him over the edge? Shit just got suicidal.”

I feel like he shoved a knife in my stomach and twisted it real slow. “I want someone to take care of you, and that’s what your mother wants to do. Tell him, Mary.” I turn to her.

She takes a step forward. “It’s true, son.” She coughs, trying to meet his eyes. He doesn’t acknowledge her existence.

Instead, he shifts his gaze back to me. “You want someone to take care of me? That seems like a first. Usually, you're the last to give a flying fuck. Now go away and take this fatty with you.” He angles backwards and is about to close the door.