I want what’s best for Jax. And what’s best for me. I want Tyler to stay here for me, not for Jax. Not because he feels he has to.
“Hey. Wipe that sad expression off your face.” Tessa leans over and squeezes my arm. “I want to see more photos of Jax. Got any?”
“Sure.” Successfully distracted, I reach into my purse for my cell, where I must keep like a thousand pics of Jax—when it rings.
Startled, I grab it and glance at the screen. I connect the call. “Rafe. What’s up?”
“Erin?” The tension in his voice makes me sit up straight. “Can you come over to Damage?”
I blink. “What, now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Crap. “What happened?” Various scenarios play out in my head. Maybe one of the tattoo artists hurt himself with the tattoo gun. There was an armed robbery. Or a fight. Or a—
“Tyler’s asking for you. Listen… it’s a bit urgent.”
I shoot to my feet. From the corner of my eye, I catch Tessa rising, too, her eyes wide. “Is he okay?”
The pause that follows makes my stomach roil. “He’ll be fine,” Rafe finally says. “Just come over, will you? Hurry.”
“On my way,” I say and start toward the door.
“Erin, what happened?” Tessa jogs to catch up with me. “What is it?”
“It’s Tyler.” I hurry toward the car, letting the cold air clear my head. “Something’s wrong.”
***
I fully expect ambulances and police cars when I arrive at Damage, but the street is practically empty. Only one car, a black Mustang, is parked outside the shop. Rafe’s car. Passersby hurry past, talking and laughing, wrapped in their long coats and parkas.
My heart bangs against my ribs, trying to break free. Fear leaves a sour taste at the back of my tongue.
“Come on.” Tessa opens her door and jumps out. “Erin?”
She’s already marching toward the shop, and I’m still frozen behind the wheel. Crap. I get out and rush after her, catching up before she reaches the door. I push it, the chimes ringing maddeningly overhead.
The scene before me makes no sense. People are sitting on the carpet in front of the reception desk. I recognize Asher, kneeling next to Audrey, and Rafe’s blond head is bowed over someone lying on the floor.
He leans back as I approach and I see the person lying down is Tyler, his face pale, a dark bruise on his jaw, his lip split. His hand is bandaged. And worst of all, his lips are almost blue.
Christ. My legs can’t hold me, so I drop to my knees. “Is he alive?”
“Yes,” Rafe says. “Can’t you hear it?”
As soon as he says it, I do. A horrible rattling sound comes from Tyler’s mouth, as if he can’t breathe. I reach for him without a second thought. His bandaged hand is pressed to his chest and I place mine over it. His eyes are closed, thick lashes like soot resting on his cheekbones.
I turn to Rafe, a knot in my throat. “Where are the paramedics? What’s going on?”
“He asked for you,” Rafe says quietly. “I hope your presence is what he needs. He’ll be fine.”
“Fine? He can’t breathe!”
“It’s a panic attack. Talk to him. Calm him down.”
I stroke silken strands of dark hair off Tyler’s soaked forehead. It’s cold and clammy. “But why is he having an attack? What happened?”
“He’s going through withdrawal.” He glances at my face and shakes his head. “No, it’s not hard drugs. It’s pills used to combat insomnia and anxiety. He said he threw all his pills away, so he could come back to you and Asher. I don’t know what the trigger was, but Ash pinned him to the floor and maybe that was it…”