Page 88 of The Lodge

“But you’re still writing it—hisside of the story. Just his.”

A statement of fact, not question.

“It’s his memoir. It’s myjob,” I counter. “You could tell your story if you wanted to.”

Tyler’s eyes meet mine, steely and hard. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

He holds my gaze, like he’s actually considering it: what it would be like to come out of hiding now, after all these years. How his side of the story would bethestory of the year—how the attention and scrutiny would almost certainly be even more intense than before, at the apex of his fame.

“You don’t have to be the one to write it for him, though, right?” he says, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“And explainwhyI suddenly feel like I can’t write it… how, exactly?”

“Tell them you’re having a hard time writing the book since Seb keeps ghosting you, maybe? I don’t know.” His thick brows knit together. “I’m just saying, you could walk away if you wanted to.”

“Easy for you to say—I don’t have any childhood friends waiting to pay my rent for the next year if I break my contract.”

As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Easy?” Tyler says, incredulous. “Nothing about the past decade has been easy.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say.

Outside, the wind howls.

“It wasn’t easy to be blindsided into joining the band,” he says evenly. “It wasn’t easy being made into a villain just so Jason could line his own pockets at my expense. And it sure as hell wasn’t easy to realize my only shot at ever being happy was to leave it all behind and start over.”

He shakes his head, looks away.

“I’ve tried so hard to leave all of that in the past, but this—putting it all in a book—it justimmortalizesit. Who I was then, who Seb thought I was.”

I reach out, take his hand.

He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t look at me, either.

“Tyler,” I say gently, wait for him to meet my eyes.

Finally, he does. The frost of bitterness has melted away, but not the exhaustion.

“I know that isn’t who you are. And I know it hasn’t been easy—that none of this has been easy for you. I didn’t mean it how it came out. I just meant that I literally won’t have money for rent or food if I back out of my contract, especially since I’m on thin ice with my landlord as it is. Not to mention I don’t want to burn bridges with the publisher.” I sigh. “It’s… just… complicated.”

Tyler slumps onto a barstool at his kitchen counter, puts his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you’re in a tough spot. And I know you’re conflicted about it, I shouldn’t have implied otherwise. But… I… I just—”

“Hate it?” I supply.

“Yeah.”

I sit on the barstool next to his, wrap my arm around him. He doesn’t fight me.

“I hate it, too,” I say.

I feel the rise and fall of his thick, muscular shoulders as reality continues to sink in.

“If it helps,” I go on, “I had a video call with Sebastian to get clarity on some stuff he said, and it turned out he’d justwordedthings badly. I don’t think he’s a good communicator, like, at all. But I think it’s important you know I’ve been doing my best to make sure the book is fair to everyone mentioned in it. That conversation was before I even knew you… were you.”

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