Page 42 of Turning Tides
“I’m on my way.”
I heard Cyrus cover the phone, and there was some mumbling in the background that I couldn’t make out. He must be talking to Marshall. “Archer?”
“Here.”
“Ten minutes.”
Cyrus pulled up behind the bar eight minutes later and I climbed into the passenger seat of his car.
“You look like shit. I can’t believe that little fuckwad called you. What the hell did he want?”
“Money.” I buckled my seatbelt and melted into the seat. I was suddenly exhausted and not at all in the mood to be around people, but I knew I’d be better off if I hung out with Cyrus for a while and let him do his mother hen routine. He’d always looked after me like that. Our parents weren’t the best. They tried, but it was like they didn’t know what to do with a kid once they had it. Let alone two kids. Cyrus had been planned, but I was an accident. Something that wasn’t lost on me.
Growing up, I’d tried to be as invisible as possible. I buried myself in my art and took up as little space as I could manage. Cyrus did his best to make sure I knew I was loved, but it wasn’t his job to raise me—even though he basically did. It was Cyrus who gave me my first sex talk. He taught me to ride a bike. He cleaned the road rash on my knees when I fell off my skateboard.
In a lot of ways, he was more of a parent to me than our parents. Which was probably why it was hard for him to switch from dad mode into brother mode. We’d never had a chance to be brothers.
“Why does dick-face think you’d give him money? What could he possibly need it for?”
A cold shiver tore through me when I recalled the fear in his voice. “He got in deep with a loan shark. Something about horses.”
“Jesus fuck. A loan shark? Do they even exist outside of like mafia movies and shit?”
I shrugged. “Apparently he lost his shirt and then borrowed money trying to dig himself out of his hole. It’s why he cleaned me out and disappeared. He says they’re going to kill him.” I cut my gaze over to Cyrus and watched the way he white-knuckled the steering wheel.
“Better them than me.” Cyrus looked at me. “I know he’s your friend, and that means a lot to you, but there were a million ways he could have handled his shit, and he chose the way that fucked you over. I’m not inclined to be very sympathetic.”
“Clayton was my friend. And I feel bad for him, but he’s not my responsibility.” I turned away and leaned my head against the window. Saying that out loud made me feel like a monster. Like I was a bad person for not wanting to get involved in someone’s tough situation, even though there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
We were fast approaching Cyrus’s house. In a weird way, it felt like going home. The bar also felt like home, as did the little space above it that I’d been allowed to turn into my own space. But Cyrus’s house felt like home in a different way. In a nostalgic kind of way. Like visiting your parents and enjoying the cozy feeling of being taken care of again, but also liking that it wasn’t permanent.
A familiar truck sat parked in Cyrus’s driveway.
“Shane’s over?”
Cyrus cut his gaze to mine, then glanced away to pull into the driveway. “I thought we could have that movie night we talked about. Marshall is making snacks for everyone and I’m going to take a night off and order dinner. We’re going to watch a bunch of those ancient 80s movies you love so much and we’re going to forget about Clayton and his bullshit. He’s not your responsibility.”
Cyrus parked the car and killed the engine.
“Cy?”
He looked at me and I saw nothing but love and understanding in his expression. No matter what, he’d be there to catch me if I fell. I knew as bad as I had it, or thought I did, Clayton had it worse. He’d never had anyone there to catch him.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Cyrus’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and he reached over and ruffled my hair. Something he knew I didn’t like, but tolerated because it was him. Today, though, I didn’t mind it. It was achingly normal and made me believe everything was right in the world.
“Get your ass in the house. Marshall is making all your favorite snacks.”
Cyrus got out of the car before me and I followed along behind, quietly reaching for my phone to unblock the number Clayton had called from. My finger hovered over the button, but I didn’t do it. Not yet. I’d unblock him tomorrow. I didn’t want him to call tonight while I was with Cyrus. Maybe it was stupid. There wasn’t anything I could do to help him, but it felt wrong to cut him off like that.
I tucked my phone away and stepped into the house, and was yanked into a hug by Marshall, who wasted no time hauling me into the kitchen and telling me all about the treats he was fixing. His words were going right over my head, in spite of how hard I was trying to pay attention, because Shane was there and I couldn’t kiss him and burrow against him the way I wanted to. I couldn’t reach for the comfort I knew his arms would give me.
Tonight was going to be torture.
Chapter 21
