Page 60 of Cross My Heart

He’s my one constant.

I finally pull up to the bar,Tyler’s, and park in the only spot available. He’s doing pretty well in this town, and I guess it doesn’t hurt that his bar is located at The Avenue. I watch as a drunk girl gets on a golf cart, and laugh when she falls right off, landing on her ass on the asphalt. People do that a lot here, ride around in their little golf carts like the entitled rich pricks they are. I was one of them once, but I’ve learned to be a little more appreciative nowadays.

Getting out of my truck, I make sure I lock it. But before I even make it inside, Tyler is already whistling at my blacked-out F-150. It’s a beauty—I switched all the chrome to matte black paint, and even the wheels are black. I spent a pretty penny on this truck since it’s the only thing I have going for me. There’s nothing else I own that I’m proud of. None of my accomplishments lie in material things.

Tyler’s strides are quick and sure, and before I can think to back up, he’s already wrapping me up in a tight hug. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, briefly pressing my nose into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t tense—but I do. I don’t want to be this way. Always wanting him, needing him, craving him.

I pull away.

“How are you?” he asks softly, looking at me from head to toe, probably worried about my injuries.

“I’m fine, Tyler,” I snap, and he swallows hard. Then in a softer tone, I say, “I’ve been healing pretty quickly. My incision is scabbed over, the stitches should come off any minute.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant emotionally.”

I ponder his question, thinking about all my friends—my comrades. Then I think about losing him too. “I’ve been better,” I reply honestly.

“Wanna go inside and have a drink?” he asks me, eyes pleading.

“Can’t.” I shrug. “I need to take my pills when I get back to your place. Haven’t taken them since this morning since I needed to drive.”

Tyler nods. “A soda won’t kill you.”

“Ty—”

“Please.”

I nod once. “Fine.”

We both turn towards the entrance, and he opens the door for me, ever the gentleman. There’s a burst of cold air that greets me, and I shiver from the sweat running down my spine. I’m fucking nervous, and I don’t even know why. Country music is playing, but not too loud to where you can’t hear each other. It’s the perfect volume, and as I look around, I realize Ty has this place all figured out. There are booths lining the walls, a corner with pool tables and darts, and a bar top with stools. The walls are brick and there’s football memorabilia on them. As I walk up to the bar, I notice there are pictures of our childhood behind it, and my throat constricts with emotion. Fucking hell, I did not sign up for this.

I’ve never asked him what prompted him to take over a bar, other than his dad buying it for him. When did he give up his dream of being a teacher? And why? He’s had plenty of time to get it done. Scarlett finished school a lifetime ago, and he had been working a dead-end job anyway. I want to pry, but I know I probably shouldn’t.

There’s barely any room in here from how busy it is, but he finds us two bar stools immediately as if he’s been saving them for us. And he may have been. We sit down next to each other, and he orders me a coke. He orders himself a shot of Jameson, our favorite. I take a sip of my coke as he downs the first round, and once his shot glass slams on the bar top, we look at each other. At least I really look at him.

Tyler is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, with his styled curly brown hair and tanned muscles. Big blue crystalline eyes that steal my breath away every time I look into them. He’s also taken up a liking to bodybuilding, and he’s bigger than when I saw him last.

“So what brings you here?” Ty asks me, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. “Scarlett is home.”

“I was just about to tell you I think I’m going to stay in a hotel,” I tell him softly as if the blow will be lessened by the tone in my voice. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay with y’all.”

Tyler visibly tenses, his jaw ticking. “And why the fuck not?”

“Besides the obvious fact that Scarlett hates my fucking guts?” I laugh. “How about the fact that you didn’t leave her, Tyler,” I growl.

He flinches, and suddenly I want to reach out and try to make him feel better. But I don’t. He needs to understand that he hurt me. That whatever was transpiring between us before deployment is over. “Noah—I?—”

“No excuses.”

“Why won’t you hear me out?” he asks with clear exasperation, and the urge to reach out is almost too strong to ignore. Almost. If only I wasn’t so angry. “I can explain.”

“Save it, Tyler,” I sigh. “What’s done is done.”

“But it’s not done.”

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