“I need you,” he whispers, his voice trailing off as he falls asleep once more.
***
Tyler’s building is old and dirty, the paint peeling in places and cracks going down the side. He isn’t any more lucid when Rafe comes around the side and pulls him out of the car. I scramble out as Asher reaches us and wraps a strong arm around his brother as if he’s been doing this all this life.
Surreal.
Audrey and Tessa are standing next to my car, hands shoved in the pockets of their jackets.
Tessa waves at me. “We’ll wait down here. Don’t want to crowd him.”
That makes sense, I guess. I follow Rafe and Asher as they drag Tyler into a stinky, dark lobby and stop at the foot of the stairs.
“Is this normal?” I ask Rafe. “That he’s so out of it?”
“Happens,” he grunts as he and Asher secure their hold around Tyler and start up the steep steps. “Confusion and disorientation is common. But I think he hasn’t been sleeping much, and he’s lost weight, so his body’s shutting down. He’s been running on fumes. Attacks suck all your energy.”
“How do you know all this?”
Rafe doesn’t answer, and I hurry after them. We reach the third landing and stop in front of a door with a dark stain in its center and the number 3A.
Rafe pats Tyler’s pockets and huffs. “Got his jacket? Check for his keys.”
I fish into the pockets of the heavy leather jacket. “Got them.” I unlock the door and enter Tyler’s apartment.
Christ. I turn in a circle, checking out the bare, stained walls, the narrow bed, the few books on a shelf, the empty kitchen shelves. No curtains hang on the windows. Tyler’s apartment gives new meaning to cold and lifeless. Not a home at all, just a transit place.
My stomach clenches at the thought of him leaving again. I turn as Rafe helps Tyler to the bed. Asher stands at the apartment door, arms folded over his chest, his pale eyes distant as if lost in thought.
Rafe lifts Tyler’s booted feet up and drops them on the mattress. Tyler rolls over, groaning, and throws an arm over his face, muscles bulging under the soft fabric of his shirt. His black hair drapes over the white pillowcase like spun silk.
“I’m staying,” I say, a bit shocked when the words leave my mouth.
Rafe lifts a tawny brow and shrugs. “I think he’s gonna be fine.”
“I’m staying,” I say again, firmly this time.
Rafe exchanges a quick look with Asher. No need to be a genius to guess they’re wondering if I lost my mind.
Have I? I’m probably about to put my heart through the shredder once again, but I can’t help it.
Asher tilts his spiky head at me. “Cool. We’ll talk another time. Come on, Rafe.”
Not looking forward to that discussion, now any more than before. Still, the change in Asher’s attitude toward his brother tells me he may yet forgive me, too.
I wait until they leave, closing the door behind them, before I go and lock it. Then I walk back to the bed, rubbing my arms. It’s freaking cold in here. I don’t see a single heater, and Tyler’s lying on top of the covers, still in his shirt, jeans and boots.
This is more complicated than I thought. Shocker, I know.
Sitting on the bed, I unzip his biker boots and pull them off his feet. They thump to the bare floor as I consider what to do next. Tyler hasn’t moved, and I don’t even know if he wants me to stay.
Well, I’ve come this far, so…
I stare at him lying there, his soft lips drawing my gaze. Rafe’s right: his cheekbones are sharper than before, his angular features even more pronounced. He’s been unwell.
I tug at the covers until I manage to free them and pull them over him. Still in my jacket, I unzip and pull my own tall boots off and lie down next to him, burrowing under the covers. He murmurs something, shifts and curls his arm around me, drawing me close. Heat radiates off his body.
“Erin…” His voice is low and rough and makes me shiver. “I remember this.”
This feeling, this entanglement of limbs and breathing each other’s air, this nearness that is so unbearably sweet.
“It’s not a memory,” I whisper as I snuggle closer and sleep claims me. “This is now.”
Part III
Four years earlier
Tyler
I’m late for the movies. I don’t even know if Erin has gone in without me, or left. In her place, I’d have gone home. It’s cold and gray as I limp across the street to the movie theater.
This is turning into a pattern. Me, being late because of Dad’s vicious moods. Erin, waiting for me, or leaving, and generally being upset because I let her down.
I keep letting her down. And I can’t stop. I try and try to dodge Dad, but he’s drinking a lot more now, and when he corners me, there’s no way out. He’s a professional fighter who trained and worked with the best of them. There’s no chance in hell I can stand against him and win.