Tyler stares at the photo on the side of my bed as I pick out a work outfit from my limited selection. We are hanging with each other again, but there is no kissing—my rule, not his. He even took me on a bike ride at the Camp Richardson trail yesterday. This time we rented the easy-does-it comfy cruisers for the two-lane bike path, so I’d have my own ride. The trees smelled so nice, and the air was warm, and Tyler did tricks on his bike to entertain me. It was perfect.
“I think I want to buy a bike,” I say, holding up a sleeveless navy blouse. I’ve been adding to my work wardrobe little by little when I find something nice on sale. “You know, when I’ve paid everything off.”
He looks up. “Yeah?”
“The comfy kind we rode on yesterday.”
The sweetest grin spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes. “We can do that. We’ll pick out a good one for you. Nice wide seat.”
I shoot him a look over my shoulder. “You better not be suggesting I have a big ass.”
“Your ass is perfect. I am merely looking out for your comfort.”
“In that case, yes, a bike with a wide seat with springs. I want to feel like I’m riding a couch.”
He chuckles. “You got it.”
It’s weird, but I actually feel closer to Tyler than I ever have. There are no more secrets. He knows what I’ve gone through since he left, and I know his story.
“You were a baby,” Tyler says, as if to himself, a deep V forming between his brows as he studies the picture he grabbed.
It’s the framed photo I keep of me and Lewis in front of the Sallees’ house, my arms clinging to one of Lewis’s long legs. Lewis is a couple of years older than me, but he’s always towered above me, especially at that age. I’d not been fed well before I moved in with his family.
“I was three,” I say, grabbing beige skinny pants to go with the flowy navy blouse.
Tyler’s brow crinkles. “But you’re in a diaper.”
“I was a toddler,” I say defensively. “I wasn’t potty trained until I moved in with John and Becky.”
He looks up, his expression serious.
I hang my clothes on the hook attached to the closet door. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s embarrassing.”
Tyler carefully places the photo on the nightstand. “This was how old you were when you went to live with Lewis and his parents?”
“Yes.”
“Because of your mom?”
I hate it when people ask about that time in my life, but it’s important that Tyler knows this part of me. And out of everyone, I want Tyler to understand the connection I have to Lewis. Maybe it will also explain why I’m so protective of the Sallees. “Lewis and his dad found me.”
“What do you mean they found you?”
“I was alone?—”
He raises his hand. “Hold up. You were alone? At this age?” He points to the photo. “This little baby—toddler, whatever? Alone, alone?”
My mouth compresses. “You know I don’t have a great mom. My dad didn’t last a month after I was born. My mom got word he died of an overdose shortly after. Eventually, my mom stopped coming home some nights.”
“When you were three?”
I nod.
Tyler swings his legs off the bed, his forearms resting on his thighs as he stares at me. “What happened, Mira?”
I sit beside him. “One day, John and Lewis were next door helping out a neighbor. I used to sit in the window and watch people pass. John saw me and came over. He introduced himself and asked some questions. I must have told him my mom was gone or something. He asked if I wanted to go with him and Lewis to their house.”
I shrug. “That’s pretty much how I came to live with them. I don’t remember all the details. I’m told Lewis held out his hand and I went straight to him and clung to one of his legs, just like in that photo.” I feel my mouth curve into a smile. “I actually remember being a little kid and holding on to Lewis like that. He was so tall. Anyway, that picture was taken around the time I moved in with the Sallees.”
