“I know I have to tell him,” I blurt, turning back to find Tyler watching me, impassive. “But I want him to understand why I’m doing it. I want him to see that I’m good enough to make a career at this. Last year, I was so focused on getting into Vanier. It was this singular thing I could picture. I told myself everything would be easy once I was surrounded by people who got what it meant to want this life, to be on the stage. But now that I’m here, it’s not easy. Maybe it never will be again. Do you ever feel thatway?”
My voice is just audible over the chatter and clinking cutlery and plates. I sink my shoulders back against thebooth.
I feel more vulnerable than when he found my Polaroids, than when I stood in front of him naked, because this it the truth—the thing that haunts me, that I don’t have an answer to. It’s not my past, it’s myfuture.
“More than you know.” Tyler shifts forward in his seat. His shoulders are tight under his button-down. “When I left Dallas for New York, I had a contract with a label. Was supposed to start in the studio a week in. But my third day here, I got a call from Philly. My dad wrecked his car driving drunk and was in a coma in thehospital.”
My body goes cold, but he continues before I can process. “I went back to Philly. Stared at his face for two days, couldn’t decide whether I wanted to save him or pull the plug—because the prick listed me to make those decisions, after all we’ve been through. In the end, I told them to do everything they could. For a week, they did. He diedanyway.”
My gut twists tighter, until all my organs are one giant knot of sadness and rage—sadness for Tyler and what he must have felt, rage for knowing he went through italone.
“I took care of arrangements. Got a loan to cover the funeral.” He grimaces, shoving a hand through his dark hair. “I figured I’d pay the medical bills off with money from my contract. But by the time I got back to New York, I’d been gone two weeks. Zeke was calling, I wasn’t answering, and when I showed up at his door, he waspissed.”
“He must’ve understood when you told him,” Imurmur.
“I didn’t tell him. It was my problem, my shame, my decision.” His voice fills with grief, and every part of me wants to reach across the table and hold him even though I know Ican’t.
“There was only one person I wanted to see.” He shifts back in his seat, exhaling hard, and those beautiful eyes deepen with an emotion that has my heart kicking in my chest. “It was the middle of July. I’d been keeping my distance from you, telling myself you’d be better off and to give you space. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to know you were okay, that something I cared about was right in the world. When I got to Dallas, I saw you outside the library with some guy”—the disbelief in his voice has me aching all over again—“looking like you didn’t have a care in theworld.”
I swallow, trying to process even a tenth of what he’s giving me and failing. My fingers trace the placemat in front of me, across the bottom, up the sides. “He worked with me,” I offer atlast.
“He made you smile. And that was what I wanted for you. I didn’t want to intrude, to make you suffer more than you already had. So, Ileft.”
My throat closes up. Of all the reasons I’d considered why Tyler hadn’t called, that wasn’t one ofthem.
I’d been feeling like shit that entire summer, was devastated to feel alone—truly alone—for the first time in a longtime.
But now I understand how hard this was for him,too.
Tyler’s hands fold in front of him on the table, but they’retense.
“Zeke terminated my contract. Told me to figure my shit out. I had a contact at Vanier and was able to get in last minute. So, I figured I’d take classes until Zeke changed hismind.
“The thing is, when I was here, I wasn’t really here. My music had lost something. That’s the problem when you start depending on other people. Like my dad blamed me for interfering with his music byexisting.”
I trace the top line of the placemat with my finger, and when I get to the center, a few inches of cheap countertop is all that keeps our hands frombrushing.
I swallow the urge to bridge that distance when hecontinues.
“There’s a difference between caring for people and ignoring your responsibilities,” I say. “Working with people, relying on them… it’s a beautiful thing.” I cut a look over my shoulder toward the door. “Like you and Beck. He’s so loyal to you, and I can see you’ve earnedit.”
His heavy gaze meets mine, and the lump in my throat expands until I can’tbreathe.
“I need you to know something. That day you saw me in Dallas,” I go on, “I might’ve been smiling, but it hurt. Every smile for months was like swallowing glass. I understand why you left, but if you think for a second it didn’t tear me up, you were wrong. I wish you’d saidgoodbye.”
Tyler tugs on his hair, eyes squeezing shut. “Nah. See, if I’d said goodbye, I wouldn’t havegone.”
This time, I can’t stop myself from reaching for his hand. His skin is warm under mine, and his chocolate gaze findsme.
I’m living for the feel of his skin onmine.
“When I saw you walk past that rehearsal room at Vanier last spring,” he says roughly, “I thought I was hallucinating.” Tyler’s hand tightens on mine, his lips twitching with self-mocking. “I thought I wished you here. And you can hate me all you want, but I’m glad youcame.”
His words slam into me. “What about the girl you werewith?”
“She was a friend. We were more for a little while, but…” Tyler shakes his head. “She wasn’t you. No one’s ever beenyou.”
I’m drowning in emotions, and I can’t pick one out from the rest or figure out what this means goingforward.