Page 31 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

“A little,” I admitted. “Sometimes a lot, especially at night. But this far along in the healing I doubt it will ever truly fade away. Especially when it rains. But for now, I’ve got pain meds that help. But I try not to.”

“Good. Because those are not good.” He shook his head, entering the number.

The door beeped, and the handle turned easily for him.

“I’m taking them for a medical reason.”

“They’re usually not a problem until it’s too late.” Tyler snorted. “Compared to Vermont, LA is like a different planet.”

“I see. Rural America is having a much harder time with drug treatment than the urban areas like this city.”

“Did you read that in The New York Times?” He shook his head heading down the hall.

“More like watching those around me fall into miserable conditions at school. The art world is not a pretty place.”

“Don’t expect LA to be any different.”

“I don’t.” I scratched my cast out of habit. Nothing stopped the itch inside, but it gave me something to do. “But at least it’s a fresh start.”

Tyler glanced back at me in the hall. “That I can understand. Who doesn’t dream of starting over?”

My mouth dropped open. Why on earth would he say that? He was killing it with his career. I half expected there to be a line of women waiting for him around the block from his home.

But I closed my mouth, deeply curious to take in the first impressions of Tyler’s place.

I expected him to live in a modern home with giant ceilings, but his choice surprised me. His house was a 1920s’ Craftsman with five bedrooms, eight bathrooms and a half acre of mature trees. He was very proud of it, I couldn’t blame him. He’d earned it.

The house was also the space of someone who valued their privacy which wasn’t surprising given how popular Tyler was.

“Sorry about all the security, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He gave me a small smile, and my heart rate sped up.

I had no problem with extensive security.

“It’s not like in the magazines.” I wanted to clap my hand over my mouth. I sounded like a stalker. Which I was but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s never in any media. If I have to, I meet an interviewer in someone else’s home. usually West’s.” He paused. “Do you have any allergies to pets?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” He stepped in front of me and opened the last door. A bear-sized blur flew toward us growling.

“This is Hercules.” Tyler laughed.

His joy was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a chilly day. I was familiar with angsty Tyler from his music, but a happy Tyler was truly glorious.

I peeked around Tyler to get a better look at man and beast.

Hercules had his paws on Tyler’s shoulders. The dog was massive, clearly a mix of several breeds and missing the top of one ear. He really did look like a bear, but his eyes were of an old soul.

“Meet Piper,” Tyler said.

The dog cocked his head, and dropped down to all fours with a thud. He sniffed my offered hand and my cast too.

I had never owned a dog but not from lack of pleading. My parents were not dog people. Finding a pet friendly apartment was high on my list.

I dropped down to him. “Who’s the good boy?” I scratched behind his ears. “What kind of breed is he?”

“Mostly he’s a Newfie, but I can’t say what else. He’s a rescue. If he ever had any papers, he probably ate them.”

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