Page 81 of Nothing To Lose
He’s been clinging to me like I’m already gone. And maybe I am. Maybe a part of me started slipping the second I laid my hands on Guy and didn’t stop. I still don’t remember all of it. Just flashes. Rage. Tyler’s face in my mind. The way he looked, broken and battered on the ground. The way he still cries out in his sleep sometimes. All the tears he cried.
I vaguely remember the sound of bones cracking. The moment they pulled me off, and I looked down at the mess I’d made of him. And the worst part? I didn’t feel regret. I felt relief.
Tyler and I have been close since that night I brought him home from the hospital. Since the first time he curled up on my couch like a wounded thing and let me take care of him. Our connection is strong and burns hot. But now it feels like he’s trying to shove decades’ worth of love into days. Every kiss has a desperation to it. Every touch lingers too long, like he’s memorizing me with his skin. The sex is… God, it’s incredible, but it’s too much. Too intense. Too fragile.
This morning, he made love to me like he was never going to see me again.
We both cried.
He didn’t say much afterward. Just held me close, and I let him. Because every time he touches me, I think it might be the last time.
When he left, I didn’t ask where he was going. I already knew.
I busy myself with the notebooks again. Inventory. Equipment. Resale values. Trying to clean up the mess I made before they put me away.
I won’t leave him the apartment. The lease is up in the spring. Mac and Anders promised they’d take care of him. I believe them.
But I hate that it’s come to this.
He deserves more than this. More than me. He deserves a future.
If that means letting him go, I’ll do it. I’ll make the call. Be the villain if I have to.
My phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Tyler.
Kitten: I’m sorry. I just need space. Give me time to figure things out, please. I love you.
I stare at it.
It hurts, but I get it. I think he means an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time to get his head on straight. To breathe.
So I let him have it.
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
Too early for Tyler. But I stupidly hope it’s him. Maybe he left his keys behind or is trying to trick me into getting some fresh air.
I open the door.
Talon Valdin stands on the other side, looking like he walked off the cover of a political magazine.
“Tyler’s not here,” I say immediately.
“I know,” he replies. “I’m not here to see him.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I came to talk to you. May I come in?”
“No.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Very well. Then I’ll be brief. Tyler isn’t coming home.”
My chest tightens. “What does that mean?”
“He’s chosen to attend Stanford. He left this morning. His decision.”
