He pulls on his pants and I grab some shorts and a T-shirt from my room. When I come back out, Tyler hands me a cup of coffee and grabs his cup of tea. I smile as we settle on the sofa, facing each other, my legs hooked over his. He tugs the coffee table closer so we can reach from this position. Then he wraps his arms around me and links his fingers behind my back.
“Okay. Just…talk,” he says.
“Um. Okay.” I settle my fingers against the top of his stomach. The lump in my throat is the only thing stopping bile coming up—I know it. “Well, I went to my parents’ house yesterday. I needed to get out of the city to think. Of course, my batshit crazy nana was there, so I got more of an ass-kicking than I did thinking. But anyway, she made me realize that you have to face your fears if you’re ever going to get over them. So. Here I am. Fear-facing.”
Tyler’s thumbs stroke my back gently, and I take a deep breath and continue.
“So. Past.” I look down at where my fingers are resting on his abs. “Yeah.” One-word sentences really aren’t doing much. Shit. I need to start making sense.
“We have time,” he says softly.
I shake my head. “You do. I don’t. I have a lack of lady-balls right now.”
He laughs quietly.
“Okay. I’m just gonna blurt it out in one great big breath so it probably won’t make much sense.”
“I’ll try and keep up.”
“You do that.” I swallow once more, wondering if, by the time this is through, I’ll have swallowed my own throat or not. “There was this guy in my senior year of high school and we’d been flirting for a bit. We got closer and closer, and by the time Christmas was coming around we were pretty much a couple. Anyway, we were crazy in lust and we were together like all the time and I mean like all the time and I thought I was stupid in love with him because I was young and dumb but I wasn’t I was totally obsessed. He was my first real boyfriend so I’d never felt anything like it, and I didn’t know it wasn’t normal to be addicted to someone that way. We split before college and I felt like everything was tumbling around me. I was in this f**k-off funk that nothing and nobody could bring me out of. The only light was if I happened to see him or speak to him. I started listening to voicemails he’d left on my phone when I missed one of his calls just to get through the day. His voice was like my drug—one fix and I’d be okay. But I wasn’t. I never was. I missed him too much and when I really realized we were over I went crazy. Not freak-out crazy. Grab-a-bottle-of-pills-and-down-them crazy.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart is pumping adrenaline through my body at a lightning speed. But I can’t stop now.
“I was taken to the hospital, had my stomach pumped. Then they threw me into therapy. After a couple months my therapist realized I had an addiction to love—or what I thought was love. As we went further in she realized my real addiction was to the person. She described it as I get addicted to the thought of love when the opportunity presents itself. Then because of that I get obsessed and eventually addicted to the person behind it all. I get addicted until that person becomes an extension of me. I get obsessive and paranoid and insecure. That’s why I always said I could destroy us both.”
Slowly, Ty brings his hands up and runs his fingers through my hair. He tilts my head back, forcing me to look at him. “You won’t destroy us. I won’t let you. If you break something, I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t pick up my pieces, okay? If we’re going to do this, then I have to deal with it. You can help, but you can’t fix everything all of the time.”
“I promise. Not all the time. But, sometimes, you have to let me. Because that’s how it works.”
“I don’t understand why you’re focusing on the destroying part rather than the suicide attempt part.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I guess because I don’t plan on leaving you, so you’ll have no reason to do that.”
“You don’t know that. What if, in a few months, you decide you can’t deal with my obsessing? What if you can’t deal with my hounding every time we’re apart? What if we have to spend a weekend apart because of work stuff? That’ll drive me to the brink of insanity. The fact that your work stuff will be hanging out with hot models will push me over.”
“I’ll take you with me if I can. Every time. If that will make you feel better, that’s what I’ll do.”
I cover my face with my hands. “That sounded like I don’t trust you. Shit. I do trust you. I do—but I’m not always rational, okay? So if I go a little crazy on you sometimes, just remember I do trust you and humor my bullshit.”
“I humor your bullshit all the time.” He leans in and kisses me. “You just don’t realize because you’re too busy humoring mine.”
That cracks a smile. “Truth.” I run my finger down the center of his stomach. “Do you think you can handle that? My crazy?”
“Babe, just like I knew I could go twenty-four hours without having sex with you, I know I can handle you.” He grins. “And I owe you a bend-over-the-bed f**k. Or rather, you owe me.”
“Well, we kind of have a lot of relationship time for a bend-over-the-bed f**k. Or a table. Or a sofa. Or any other surface you can think of.”
His eyes spark with delight. “I’ll get thinking.” He leans in and nuzzles his nose against mine. “I suppose you want to know about me now, right?”
“Yep. Favorite food, favorite car, favorite football player…”
His lips twitch to one side. “Favorite food is Twinkies, believe it or not. Favorite car is an Audi R8—I miss mine. And my favorite football player is Richard Sherman.”
“You’re a Seahawks fan?”
“Both me and Aaron. Drives our parents nuts.” He grins. “They support the Giants. But anyway. Before you ask, my favorite film is any of the Bond films. My favorite band is Coldplay. My favorite song by them is their newest—Sky Full of Stars.”
“Why?”
“Why is it my favorite song?”
“Yep.”
“Because it reminds me of you.”
I open my mouth then close it again as a flush rises in my cheeks. Tyler watches me with great amusement and goes on.
“My favorite beer is Budweiser, my favorite non-alcoholic drink is fresh orange juice, and my favorite thing to do on a hot day is drink beer.”