She spun back toward the stairs and was about to head to the entrance when she heard her name.
"Aelin?”
Her heart stalled, but when she turned, she saw a startlingly handsome man in hockey gear that was decidedly not Ryan.
She straightened. “You were at the bar the other night. And one of Bailey’s coaches.”
He smiled and put out an ungloved hand. “Tyler.”
She shook it, then dropped her arm, waffling between whether this could be about Ryan or Bailey.
"Hey, I was hoping to catch you. Ryan told me you were dropping Amaya off for camp.”
Ryan, then.
Tyler moved to the side to let a group of players pass. “My teammate Brett and I used to live in a townhouse off Centre Street. I ended up buying it, the whole building actually, as an investment property.”
Aelin nodded, not sure where this was going.
"Anyway, there are only four units, but I’m having a hard time keeping a manager that does a good job. It's a pretty good gig, though.”
Aelin frowned. “I don’t—are you saying you want me to work for you? Or rent your townhouse?”
Tyler blew out a breath. “Both. It would be free rent. You’d be responsible for showing units when renters change over. You’d be the point of contact for repairs or maintenance issues, but obviously, we have contractors on hand to do the work. You would have a separate email address, office hours once a week. Pretty flexible.”
Aelin blinked. “You said . . . free rent?”
Tyler cleared his throat. "I know you’re looking for a new place, and I thought you might be interested. The townhouse I lived in is open, and it has a nice little yard, two bedrooms, and an office. Updated appliances. There’s a community centre with a gym and a pool, and?—"
“Yes!” She pursed her lips. “I mean, I’d love to see it first, and I’m sure you’ll want to see my resume, but . . . yes. I’m extremely interested.”
Tyler smiled. “Perfect. Could you meet me there tomorrow after camp?”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Aelin wokeup early and immediately started packing the kitchen. Since she had a place to stay that was available immediately, there was no point in waiting and keeping her house clean during showings. She wasn’t going to fight Clark on this, which meant the sooner she got out, the better.
The more she thought about it, the more liberating it felt to remove herself from the house they had lived in together. It washishouse originally, not hers. She hadn’t realized how many reminders of him were everywhere she looked.
Aelin stood at the island and looked around her. She’d moved here. She’d built a life here. But she’d never been at the centre of it. It had never been hers. Once they’d moved past the love-bombing stage of their relationship, she’d orbited him, trying to be the smallest, most inconspicuous moon to his gas giant.
Since the lake, every day felt like a losing battle. The tightness in her chest returned. Her insomnia at night. Everything she’d experienced immediately after realizing Clark had cheated the second time had rushed in full force when she saw that stealth app on her phone.
She found herself sitting and staring into space more timesthan she could count. She went back through every note she’d taken in therapy, every journal entry, every recommendation from her therapist. Knowing something and forcing your body to comply were two different things. Every night she lay in bed, close to tears, willing her body to believe that she was safe. But it wasn’t true. Her body wouldn’t believe it because, deep down, she knew that no matter how much she tried, Clark would always have the ability to swoop in and knock her feet out from under her.
She wasn’t safe. Her body knew it. And even though her brain understood the rational difference between running from a tiger and worrying about Clark, her body didn’t. She was in a constant state of fight or flight, and knowing she couldn’t trust her reactions only made her anxiety worse. It was a depressing, unstoppable, vicious cycle.
Her joints ached. She felt nauseous after every meal. Every time she looked in the mirror, she was pale and gaunt. So when her body went numb and she could barely feel her heart beating, she didn’t even complain.
She was simply grateful for the respite.
Aelin opened the kitchen cupboards and began stacking plates and cups in boxes, wrapping each piece in tissue paper. It was methodical—comforting, even. By the time Amaya arrived for breakfast, she was nearly finished.
When she dropped Amaya off at the rink later that day, Tyler found her again. Ryan was using him as a messenger, and Aelin knew that somewhere, far above where she was currently drowning, she might enjoy that Ryan was thinking about her. That he was trying to help and protect her.
But she couldn’t access gratitude. She couldn’t access want or desire or need. Their moments in the cabin felt like a lifetime away, like she had been playing a part in some summer play. She wondered if he felt the same thing. If he had come back and visited his wife and realized that they’d been fooling themselves.
