"Then why do you keep showing up?"
The question hung between us. I didn't have an answer—didn't have words for the pull I felt, theweight in my chest when I saw him struggling, the instinct that kept putting me in his orbit.
So I said the only thing that was true: "Because you shouldn't have to face this alone."
Tyler stared at me. Something shifted in his expression—the anger fading, replaced by something more vulnerable, more uncertain.
"Tank..." He stood, took a step toward me, stopped. "There's something I should tell you."
The air between us changed. Thickened. I could feel it—the weight of whatever he was carrying, pressing against the walls he'd built.
"Okay. Tell me."
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His hands curled into fists at his sides, then slowly released.
"I can't." The words came out barely above a whisper. "Not yet. I'm not—" He shook his head, turned away. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."
"Tyler."
"Please." He moved toward the window, putting distance between us. "Just... not tonight. I can't do this tonight."
I should have pushed. Should have demanded answers. That was what a smart man would have done.
Instead: "Okay."
Tyler turned, surprise flickering across his face. "Okay?"
"When you're ready to talk, I'll be here. Until then..." I moved toward the door, stopped at the threshold. "Get some sleep. You look like death."
"Tank."
I waited.
"Thank you." His voice was rough. "For not pushing. For just—" He stopped, swallowed. "Thank you."
I nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind me.
The night had gone full dark by the time I finished my security rounds.
I'd walked the perimeter twice, checking sight lines and blind spots, verifying camera angles, testing the new gate protocols with the prospects on duty. Cross wouldn't find it as easy to stroll into our territory next time. Small comfort, but something.
The clubhouse was quiet now, most people either asleep or keeping to their rooms. A light burned in Hawk's office—he was still awake, still planning, still carrying the weight of command the way he always had. Axel and Kai's room was dark.
Tyler's light was off.
I stood in the hallway for longer than I should have, staring at his door, thinking about the look on his face when Cross had walked past without acknowledging him. The devastation he'd tried to hide. The thing he'd almost told me and then swallowed back down.
He was carrying something. Something heavy, something dangerous, something he thought he had to bear alone.
Maybe Tyler needed to learn the same lesson I'd learned—that brotherhood meant letting people carry your weight, whether you thought you deserved it or not.
But that wasn't something I could force. He'd tell me when he was ready, or he wouldn't. All I could do was be there when he decided.
I went back to my room, stripped off my clothes, and lay in the dark staring at the ceiling.
Sleep came eventually. But it wasn't restful, and when I woke before dawn, the first thing I thought about was whether Tyler had slept at all.
I was in the garage before sunrise, coffee in hand, waiting.
