“Yeah,” I said again, this time softer. “I’m good.”
“You seem…”
“What?”
He dipped his head. “You won’t look at me. It’s fine, but I hope we’re okay,” Tyler said too fast.
I scrubbed my face, desperate to find the right words. “I’m just…” Fuck! I needed to be honest—he deserved for me to be honest, but what if I fuck this up. “I feel scared.”
His brow creased, confusion flickering in his eyes as if I’d just told him two plus two equaled five and expected him to nod along. “‘Scared’? Of me? Have I done something? Should I?—”
“I’m not scared of you; I’m scared of screwing things up,” I admitted. “Of crossing a line, of making things worse for you when I just want to…” I stopped, shaking my head.
“Want to what?” he asked.
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “I want to take you for a coffee.” My voice faltered, and I rushed to add, “Out. I mean… or lunch one day. Would you want to do that with me?”
Tyler’s expressive blue eyes widened. His starelocked on mine, unblinking, and I couldn’t tell if I’d asked him something impossible or if he was just surprised.
“Coffee?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Alone. Outside of here?”
“Yeah, or… or not. I mean, if you’re not comfortable going out, that’s totally fine. I just thought we could find somewhere quiet… I mean, if you ever wanted to, you know…”
Tyler hesitated, and at last, his eyes—so strikingly blue—met mine. “On a date?”
Fuck. Now, I had to be just as brave back. “Yeah, a date.”
“I’d like that,” Tyler said, and I swore my breath caught.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a small smile, soft and uncertain. “Coffee sounds good.”
NINE
Tyler
Pax was in my dream,his familiar laughter echoing as we walked side by side down a shadowed path. The air was thick and tinged with the scent of smoke I couldn’t see. My best friend held a guitar toward me, his expression playful yet insistent. “Play something for us, Ty,” he urged, his voice warm with affection and memories I was so desperate to hold onto.
Before I could respond, Marcus appeared, stepping forward from shadows I hadn’t noticed were there. His smaller stature and intense observation contrasted with Pax’s tall, lanky frame and relaxed demeanor. Marcus thrust a steaming mug toward me, urgency in his dark eyes. “Drink coffee with me,” he said, his voice tight with worry.
Their voices began to overlap, blending into relentless cacophony. Pax pointed at something hidden in shadows, his expression growing desperate. “You should help that woman with her baby,” he pleaded, anxiety sharpening the edges of his words.
My heart pounded hard, dread pooling in my stomach, thick and nauseating. Though I couldn’t see what Pax was indicating, I knew with gut-wrenching certainty that this dreamscape would end the same as always—in fire, in death, in helpless grief.
But Marcus shouldn’t be here.
Why is Marcus here?
“Let me wake up,” I pleaded, dread consuming me. “I don’t want to see them die again. Please let me go?—”
Flames erupted around me, and fire licked at my skin, searing me. Through the smoke and heat, I saw Pax swallowed by the inferno, his form dissolving into ash, and Marcus pointed at what was left.
“I’m a doctor; I can help.”
