Blissful Hook by Hannah Cowan

Chapter 31

There's something different about Tyler. Ever since he got back in town it's like the past few months never happened. He's cold again, barely sparing the time of day to even speak two sentences to me, and doesn't stay over for longer than a couple hours at a time. It's scaring me. Actually, I think it's far beyond that now. I'm terrified and confused—two emotions that mix as well together as tanning oil and pale skin under the scorching sun. I've been here, done this whole too cold to show emotion bullshit with Tyler before, for way too damn long. I don't plan on doing it again. I don't even know if I can do it again.

Not now.

Not ever.

"Wanna watch a movie?" I drag my tired eyes over to the stone-faced man beside me, a familiar burn bringing tears to them when he ignores me again. Something must have happened when I was gone, something severe enough to bring back the vacant look in his eyes and the icy touch to his skin. I've tried asking—only to be answered with an eye roll or a wave of his hand. I'm frustrated, anxious, angry. We've come too far to let something come between us. He's crawled too far under my skin. His name is too deeply engraved into my heart—my soul.

"Okay. We don't have to watch a movie. What about we get some dinner instead?" My voice is full of fake cheer and I force a smile and blink away the wetness that's threatening to drip down my cheeks.

"I'm good," he grumbles, not tearing his attention away from one of the home improvement shows that I know for a fact he hates.

"Are you sure? It's past dinner, and we didn't e-"

"I said I'm good, Gracie. Leave it alone. I just want to sit here." He narrows his eyes at me. "Quietly."

Alright then, asshole. I give my head a quick nod and stand up off the couch. I square my shoulders and tilt my chin, attempting to pull forward every molecule of confidence and self-worth that lives inside me regardless of the overwhelming ache in my chest. "You can enjoy your quiet night then. Alone." I speak the words harshly, equally as cold as his were. My footsteps are heavy and loud as I throw as much pressure down as possible with each step I take. Yes, I might be stomping away. And no, I don't care if it makes me look childish because he is being a giant man-baby right now.

He sighs, loud and sharp, and I can hear him cursing under his breath from the kitchen. "Don't go."

I turn back around to face him and see a brief flash of worry in his eyes before it's quickly masked once again by the same damn vacant stare that is sure to haunt me in my dreams tonight. Throwing my hands on my hips, I raise my brow. "And why not? It's obvious that you want nothing to do with me, so why am I even here? Why bother even asking me to come over tonight? I could have gone out with my friends instead of being ignored by you all damn night."

"I missed you. I don't know. I didn't think it would be such an inconvenience for you to come see me," he scoffs as if I'm the one that should be under attack. He's shifting the blame to me to try and hide whatever's been eating at him the past couple of days. But he should really know that I wouldn't fall for it by now.

"You must have a really fucked up way of showing that you miss someone if you think that ignoring me and treating me like a fly that won't stop buzzing in your ear is the way to go. What is up with you lately? What happened?"

Tyler avoids eye contact and keeps his attention on the wall behind me, a striking tension building in his shoulders, causing him to hunch forward. I want to run back and knead at the tight muscles, but I would only end up smacking myself in the face if I did.

"You know you can tell me anything, Ty. We're not supposed to keep secrets from each other," I plead, my tone softer now. Moving back towards him, I let out a soft, defeated sigh. All I want is to help him carry half of what haunts him. Half of what keeps dragging him back into his mind, shackling him to his past whenever he finally gets to a better place. A happy place. But I can't do it unless he lets me. And right now, it's clear that he has no intention of letting me help.

"The last thing you need right now is any more of my drama, Gray," he groans and rubs his hands down his jaw, scratching at the stubble that he's been too preoccupied to shave. He's always had some sort of facial hair, but as he's grown older and more mature it's taken on a whole new look. Now every time I see him, instead of just wanting to jump on him and smother his cheeks with kisses, I want him to return the favour somewhere else. Somewhere that a few years ago would have landed the both of us in a whole universe of trouble.

"That's not your call to make. It's mine." I sit down beside him, grabbing his left hand in mine and slowly pulling it away from his face. I notice the slight shake in his hand but decide not to say anything. When he gives me an inch, I know better than to take a mile.

"I want to make your world better, Ty. You've gone through enough already without me adding anything else to it." I lean my head on his shoulder and let my eyes flutter shut. "You've already made my world as bright as it can possibly be. There isn't anything that you and I could go through now that could possibly dull its glow. And that's a promise."

"Fuck, I love you," he murmurs, hit tone as sharp and definite as ever. His arm moves around my shoulder and he pulls me close, tucking me into his side and holding me so tightly that I couldn't move if I tried.

I grin and lift my chin so I can meet his hooded gaze. "If I say I love you back, will you finally tell me what's going on in that big handsome head of yours?"

"Maybe." He shrugs and the corners of his mouth twitch.

"I love you," I sing, hoping to God that the emotion I feel building in my rooted stare is as apparent to him right now as it is to me. He presses a gentle kiss on my cheek. I feel his laughter echo in my chest. It bounces around and claims my body as his.

I have to admit, this was far easier than I thought it would be. I guess a few months ago, I probably would have had to fight tooth and nail, maybe even had to have really walked out of his front door before he would finally tell me what was wrong. But that was then and this is now. We really have come so much farther than I could have ever imagined a few months ago. Come to think of it, I can only imagine what a younger version of myself would have done if she were here right now, what she would have thought.

"Something happened with my mom. Well, to my mom, I guess," he mumbles, suddenly very still. "She called me when I was on my way home from the airport."

My stomach dips. "What happened?"

The hand that's wrapped around me tenses up as he registers my question. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I want to help. Please let me help."

He sucks in a long breath of air before answering me, his words sharp as a whip. "I found her drugged-up, beaten body on her bathroom floor the day I got back to town." I watch, chilled to the bone as his lips peel back and his jaw ticks so harshly my fingers itch to reach out and touch it, hoping to calm him. "It was Allen." He spits his step-father's name with a thick venom that has my skin crawling. I swallow nothing but air but feel as though it could choke me with how thick with rage it is. Goosebumps rise on my arms and spread quickly as the temperature suddenly dips and feels a few dozen degrees cooler than a couple of minutes ago.

"He's always loved throwing his fists around at people smaller than him. It wasn't uncommon for him to do it at home when I was growing up. It didn't matter why he was pissed off that day or who picked a fight with him. The only way a guy like Allen knows how to deal with any problem in his life is to hurt something or someone. I grew to expect it. Fuck, I was too young when Mom first brought his drunk ass home to know any better. I never had a dad. I didn't know that how Allen behaved wasn't normal. It wasn’t until I got a few years older that I start to realize that the other dads at school didn't drag their kids by the ear when they picked them up at school or offer them a smoke before they could ride a fucking bike."

My eyes burn as I try to hold back my tears. This isn't my time to cry. I don't have the right to pull Tyler's attention away from himself and towards me because I can't keep it together for him. He deserves to have somebody listen to him for once. To have someone want to hear him. No matter how badly I want to let my building sob rip up my throat and cry for the childhood he lost and for all the pain he has inside, I can't. Instead, I reach for the hand clenched on my thigh, spread it open, and grip it so tight that mine goes numb and continue to listen.

"River didn't used to be the way he is now. There was a time when he would shove me behind him and take a hit that was meant for me. I remember a twelve-year-old River cooking soggy pasta and making me watered-down hot chocolate before bed on the nights that Mom never came home. Allen would be passed out on the couch after finishing a two-six of vodka most nights, so at least we had that going for us. River would tell me to wait for him in the small room we shared before making sure the kitchen was clean and meeting me there. Our bunk bed took up most of the room and was barely holding on. It got to the point where every time he had to go to the top bunk, he would have to move from my bed to the dresser before hopping up onto his mattress because the ladder was broken. We knew better than to ask anyone to fix it, so we never did. It was easier during the nights when he was with me. I knew that I wasn't alone. But when he turned sixteen, it was like Allen flipped the lights off in his head."

Again, I don't say anything when Tyler stops and sucks in uneven, scattered breaths that ring the alarm bells in the back of my head. I bite my tongue until the taste of metal attacks my taste buds and squeeze his hand harder, nearly passing out with relief when he squeezes back.

"I couldn't tell you the day or even the month that I lost my brother. But I know it was Allen. It was the little clear baggy of coke Allen pulled from his pocket after we got home from school and the used, traded-off pussy that I found River fucking in our living room while Allen and four of his pin-pupiled buddies sat back and watched. It was like a bomb went off, mutilating every single human emotion and feeling that lived inside of River, turning him into a puppet that only Allen held the strings to," Tyler's voice cracks and when the first tear falls from behind his closed eyelids, I let his pain slaughter me from the inside out.

"Ty," I whisper, broken. I’m ready to throw myself into his lap and wrap myself around him like a protective coating but he sucks the air from my lungs, startling me. He turns towards me and pushes his face into my neck, letting his sobs become muffled in my skin. His chest shakes as his cries intensify, building to a peak that has his arms squeezing around me so tight that my chest has trouble expanding. I know that I should probably tell him he's holding me too tightly, but I can't find it in me to do so. Who knows how long it's been since he's had someone to hold, someone to open up to and confide in. If he ever has at all. I'm not about to shatter that. As long as I can manage to breathe, I won't complain. I know that he would do the same for me without so much as blinking from the discomfort. So, I press my palms to his shaking chest and rest them there. I allow my fingertips to rub calming circles against him and lean my cheek against his fluffed hair.

Tyler doesn't deserve this. Hell, nobody does. My insides burn with a fit of stormy hatred towards the people who call themselves his family. I can't imagine the agony that has to be living inside him, following him through his entire life. All of his success, his happiness, it will all be overshadowed by his history. His past taints his present and future, but I will do everything that I can to help him get past this. To help him heal.

What feels like a few minutes later, his cries start to slow. I feel him tense under my fingertips for a brief second before he relaxes again and pulls his head out of my neck. He keeps it down though, out of view.

"Now the only person left in that fucking house is our mom. She's the only one left that Allen beats on, using her as a personal fucking punching bag. And the worst part is that most of the time she's too drunk to realize that anything has even happened. She won't let me take her away from him—someplace safe. She's too fucked up to realize that he doesn't care about her any more than he cares about a prostitute on the fucking street corner. When I got her call and went to find her. . ." he trails off, running a thumb along his jaw as it tightens, "she refused to let me bring her to the damn Hospital—too afraid of what would happen if the cops were called. I don't know what I would have done if Brooks hadn't come when I called. He's taken care of enough wounds in his lifetime that patching her up was just a typical night for him."

He uses the back of his hand to roughly swipe across his face before looking up. A broken gaze stares back at me with an intensity that makes me gulp.

"Where is she now? Is she okay?"

"She's at Braden's. Brooks can take care of her better than I can right now. I don't even know what to say to her. She didn't look like herself, Gray. She looks like a zombie." His eyes are squeezed shut like he's trapped in a cage of emotional disarray.

She's at Brook’s? Better safe than sorry, I suppose. The only danger she's in there is having to listen to Braden's sex jokes all the time. The Lowry’s will take good care of her. I'm just glad to know that there are other people in Tyler's life that he trusts enough to help him. He's going to need as much support as possible to get through this.

"Hey." I reach up and grab his jaw, holding him in place as our eyes stay locked, unwavering. "You saved her. She's okay now. She's safe. We can help her." I know my words probably don't do much. Not with everything that he must be feeling. But Tyler isn't the type of guy to let these things go, especially not with everything Allen has done to him and his family. And I think that's what terrifies me the most. I don't know what he's going to do. I can only hope he won't try to do it alone.