I walk across the hall to his room and slowly tap my knuckles against the door before pushing it open anyway. Jamie is sitting on the end of his bed, staring down at the splint on his wrist, rotating his arm. My chest tightens a little. I hate seeing my brothers get hurt.
“Hey,” I say gently as I walk into the room. I sit down on the bed next to him and give him a small smile as he looks up at me. I raise an eyebrow. “So I heard you’ve broken your wrist.”
“Yeah,” Jamie says, and he lets out a defeated sigh. “I tripped over some bricks in Dylan’s backyard and fell on it.” Jamie is usually boisterous and lively, but tonight, he is quiet. He stares down at his wrist for a few seconds, then slowly his gaze drifts back up to meet mine. “I don’t know how you did this.”
“Did what?”
“This,” he says, lifting up his arm. “The broken wrists. Everything. It hurts.”
“I got used to it,” I murmur. Honestly, I’m surprised Jamie is even talking about this. He doesn’t like to ever talk about Dad. I think he’s still traumatized from it all, from witnessing the father that he adored attacking me. Jamie has never really been the same since, and neither of us ever wants to talk about it even though I know we need to. It’s too hard on both of us. “I learned to…I learned to make myself numb,” I say through the silence.
I sense Jamie swallow as he stares at the floor. All I can hear is the static of his TV, nothing but white noise to me. “I can’t believe Dad was really like that.”
“I know.” Sometimes, I still can’t believe it either.
“But why you?” he asks, looking up. His blue eyes meet mine. We look nothing alike. “Why not me? What did you do wrong that Chase and I didn’t?”
“I don’t know, Jamie, but I’m glad it wasn’t you, and I’m glad it wasn’t Chase.” I stare at the splint on his wrist, and it brings back so many memories of when I was a kid. His wrist will be in a cast soon, decorated with his friends’ names scrawled in Sharpie. “He loved you guys,” I tell him, then glance down at my own hands. On the outside, I’m fine. But my wrist still aches sometimes. “I think he may have even loved me too.”
Jamie looks at me like I’m crazy. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It doesn’t, does it?” I almost smile, because he’s right. Itdoesn’tmake sense. Dad didn’t hurt me because he hated me—no, he hurt me because he was out of control. “Even I’m still trying to figure it out.”
Suddenly, my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket, and I know that it is most likely Declan calling, wondering whether or not I’m still down to meet up. I pull out my phone, ready to simply reject the call, but I freeze when I see Tiffani’s name lighting up my cracked screen instead.
My chest tightens as I look back at Jamie. He glances at my phone in my hand, then at me. I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t want me to answer it. He wants me to stay here with him, to talk about Dad. And I want to stay too, but I just… I just can’t. I can’t reject Tiffani’s call, not after I’ve been trying so hard to talk to her all day. She will never forgive me if I don’t give her my time now that she’s ready listen.
I swallow hard as I get to my feet, and it hurts seeing the way Jamie’s face falls. The call is still ringing and my time to answer is running out fast. “Jamie, I’m sorry,” I say, but my throat is so dry that my words sound choked. “I have to take this. I don’t have a choice right now. Can we talk another time?”
“Whatever, Tyler,” he mumbles, but he’s mad at me now too. Heflops onto his back and rolls over to face his bedroom wall, leaving me feeling guiltier than ever. But the call is still ringing; my phone is still vibrating in my hand…
I dart back across the hall to my own room, closing the door behind me and inhaling. I still haven’t exactly decided which explanation I am going to give her, but I’m skilled at lying on the spot. I accept the call and press my phone to my ear. “Tiffani,” I say.
“Tyler,” she says. Her voice is bitter and my name brings disgust with it. I can picture her in my head so clearly. I imagine her lips pressed firmly together in a bold line, one hand resting on her hip, her blue eyes sharpening. Luckily, I don’t have to face her.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” I tell her. My shoulders sink with relief. Finally, she is talking to me. I walk over to my bed and collapse down onto my back, staring up at my ceiling. “So you heard what happened last night?”
“Of course I heard,” Tiffani snaps back at me. She’s furious, and this is going to take a lot of convincing. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You know me, Tyler. I find outeverything.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, running my free hand through my hair. “It was an accidental mistake,” I start.It wasn’t. “It all just happened in the spur of the moment. I really was on my way to meet the guys, but when I drove by the pier, some sophomore from Inglewood wanted to check out my car,” I lie, and I open my eyes again and sit up, propping up my pillows and leaning back against them. I feel like such an asshole. “She got in my car and… I don’t know. Things just happened. I completely didn’t mean to. I swear, Tiffani. You know I’m just… I’m an idiot.”
“Tyler,” she sharply cuts in, and if I were in front of her right now, she’d be pressing her hand to my chest. “I don’t want the details. I justwant you to promise me that this will never, ever happen again. You don’t want me to lose my patience, do you?”
“I promise,” I blurt quickly, and I realize as soon as the words leave my mouth that I definitely shouldn’t have said them. There is no way I can promise her that it won’t happen again, especially not while Eden is in the picture. Now, if we ever get caught again, Tiffani definitely won’t give me another chance. She will completely ruin my life, which means that from this moment on, Eden and I have to be very, very careful.
•••
I’ve been with Tiffani all morning, forcing myself to be on my best behavior, fighting to keep her happy. That’s why, using all of the cash I have made so far and stealing some out of whatever small amount is left in my trust fund, I was downtown bright and early this morning buying a damn purse at 9:00 a.m. Tiffani is happy with it though, so the dent in my financial status is at least worth it.
She’s even got it with her now. We’ve been at her house for hours, talking everything through until we are both in mutual agreement about what exactly this relationship is—toxic and meaningless but important and necessary—and now I’m driving her to the promenade so that she can meet up with the girls. I’m meeting up with Dean and Jake here too, and we will all most likely end up gathering together at some point.
“Drop me off by Nordstrom,” Tiffani demands, though at least her voice is light, cheery, and most definitely fake. She has her sunglasses pushed down over her eyes and she is holding up her phone, taking pictures of herself as I drive, her glossy lips pouting back at her screen. I have both windows rolled down, so the breeze keeps blowing her blond hair around her face.
“Alright, Britney Spears,” I say, rolling my eyes. I have one hand onthe steering wheel, the other on her thigh. I know she likes that. “I think you’ve taken enough pictures. Which one would you like to set as your wallpaper?”
“Shut up, Tyler,” she says, relaxing her features and lowering her phone. She points up ahead. We are heading down Second Street, nearing the promenade, and for a Thursday afternoon, the streets are filled with people. Itishotter than usual today, I guess, and the heat always brings out the crowds. “Pull up over there.”
I do as she says and pull over by the sidewalk across the street from Nordstrom. As soon as we come to a stop, Tiffani releases her seatbelt and turns to face me, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. She smiles at me. “You know, I believe you. I don’t think you’ll make another mistake. I’d hate for that to happen,” she says, but I can hear the threat in her perfectly sweet voice. Her hands move while she speaks. “Now can we get back to acting normal?”
