Page 56 of Reckless

Something wasn’t right.

“Hannah, dear,” Sylvia said with a tone so sly, I wanted to walk away from the conversation she was about to start. She was a person to hold a grudge for the way I contradicted her earlier when she was insulting Tyler. “Where is that doctor of yours? I hope everything is good between you two.”

“He’s busy with his residency.”

“Will we see him at the wedding at least?”

“Mom,” Clem warned.

“What? I’m sure Lauren and Harry would like to see him sooner rather than later and what better occasion than a wedding?” Sylvia smiled and focused on me. “You know, men often times feel inspired by those events and muster the courage to propose.”

Probably not when the girlfriend sucked on the tongue of her former crush.

“Let’s concentrate on the wedding that is actually happening,” I said with a smile. “We finally have a venue. Everything should be easier now.”

I stirred the conversation in that direction and Sylvia backed off.

A couple of hours later, I was at the door with my parents. Tyler hadn’t approached me. He hadn’t even looked at me. Not once.

I found excuses for him.

Fear that I might cause a scene.

Realization it wasn’t the right time, nor the right place to talk about what happened.

Willingness to figure out his own emotions before confronting me about my own.

But I knew all those things weren’t true. He didn’t care about the scene I could make. He didn’t care about the place nor the time at all. He didn’t care about my feelings or if I even had any.

And that was the essence of it. The reason he avoided me. It always had been.

He simply didn’t care.

So when he appeared at their front door, looking straight into my eyes, my heart flipped inside my chest.

“I’m flying back to Boston tomorrow,” he said with a blank expression on his face.

“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say. His lips curled up into a smile and he came closer to me. He planted a kiss on my cheek.

“See ya,” he murmured into my ear and vanished inside the house.

Chapter Eighteen

Hannah

TylerflewbacktoBoston the next day, just like he said he would. I stayed in California three more days. Three days and I still felt the pressure of Tyler’s fingers on my waist, the hardness of his body against mine. The taste of him on my tongue.

Nick was busy as always and didn’t have much time for phone calls. I told him he should come to my apartment on Sunday for a serious talk. I kept it vague, but he probably sensed something was wrong, because his phone calls and texts became even more sparse. It was a good thing. I definitely had no desire to explain what happened over the phone. It was the cowardly way out.

Sunday finally came. An unexpected sadness overwhelmed me while Dad and I waited at the airport. I enjoyed being back home. Close to Clem and my mother.

“Is it good?” My father pointed at the paperback currently squeezed between my arm and my ribcage.

“I haven’t started it yet.”

“Oh.”

That was his third attempt to start a conversation with me. It was a torture for the both of us. I didn’t know why he insisted on waiting with me. I would talk with him under normal circumstances, but I felt guilty about what I did with Tyler, sad about leaving California and at the same time eager to go back home and come clean with Nick.

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