I’ve needed these last few days to get my head on straight, as Tyler would say, but I miss him so much. I think about him several times a day.
Fine, every hour.
I heard from Gen that Tyler just got offered a job at the community college in town, teaching biology in the fall. He’s been crashing with his friend Phil, who got dumped by his live-in girlfriend. Gen says Tyler seems to be doing fine.
True to his word, Tyler gave me space and hasn’t called or stopped by. He didn’t seem angry when I asked him to leave, so I have to assume he’s staying away for me.
I just hope he still wants to come back.
With my head finally above water these last couple of days since my mother’s passing, the thought of losing Tyler makes me incredibly sad. I know now that I’d survive the dreaded “alone,” but I want him in my life. If we ended up friends, I would take that, but I want so much more.
This wanting of Tyler is the one constant in my life. It doesn’t fade or ebb, it just is.
On my way home from work, I decide to change my clothes and visit. I could call him, but I want to make the extra effort. He was there for me when my mom died. He’s been there for me since the beginning when he found me in the woods, if I really think about it. He lived with me despite his misgivings. He got a freaking job at the casino to look out for me when he didn’t think it would be a safe environment. In so many ways, his actions have shown how much I mean to him.
I shove open the front door, anxious to change and visit him now that I’ve made the decision, and freeze on the threshold, my hand on the knob.
Tyler is standing in the middle of the living room, but instead of looking worried the way he did after my mom died, his gaze is steady and intent. “Do you mind? I still have a key. I let myself in.”
I glance back. Tyler’s car isn’t in the driveway, or on the street. “Where’s your truck?” I step inside and close the door.
“In the shop. I’m getting new tires. Phil dropped me off.” He absently tugs at his shirt as though it’s hot in here, when it’s actually cool.
He studies my movements as I set my purse on the counter and kick off my shoes. I’m curious about why he came, but instead I blurt, “I missed you.”
Tyler swallows and takes a step toward me.
“I was coming home to change and see you.” I clench my hands at my sides, nervous, though I’m not sure why. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care.
“I want to be with you, Tyler, but I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. I just don’t want you out of my life. I hope you don’t think I was pushing you away when I asked for a few days to myself.” My face scrunches as I think back. “It didn’t feel like that’s what I was doing, but it may have come across that way. I was so upset after my mom passed…and relieved, which made me feel like a terrible person. I needed time to figure myself out.”
Tyler takes another step closer until we’re only a foot apart. “There is no better person than you, Mira.”
I look up into his eyes. “How can you say that? I piss you off more than anyone.”
He gives me a cocky grin. “But I like it.”
“So—we’re okay?”
“If you think you can look past it when I’m a dumbass. I promise to make it up to you when I screw up.” His brows quirk suggestively.
I press my lips together, holding back the overwhelming happiness filling my heart, but Tyler is having none of it. He wraps his arms around me and touches my hair, my face. His lips are on mine and we’re kissing like it’s been years instead of a few days since we’ve seen each other.
And maybe it has been years since we let it all go, the doubts, the fears, and really opened up. I was pushing him away, or he was pushing me away; we’ve never been on the same page emotionally.
Until now.
Tyler’s mouth trails down my neck and I slip my hands under his T-shirt, heat burning beneath my skin. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at the same time to realize we are finally together.
Tyler pulls back, his hands slipping to my bottom. “If we’re not holding back anymore, then you should know, you’re my girlfriend.”
“Oh yeah?” I chuckle and he squeezes my ass, returning his lips to the skin at the base of my neck.
“Mm-hmm. Phil knows, ask him.”
“Were you going to let me know?”
“Eventually,” he mumbles against my skin. His hands slip beneath my slim skirt. “Have I told you how much I like you in these little tight skirts you wear to work?”
