Page 86 of Severed Heart
But for her. Always for her.
Just after Delphine breezed in all smiles, our eyes met and held right before hers dropped, granting me access to feast. The image of her now ingrained, and tap dancing along my psyche, while keeping my heart raw.
That fucking dress hugged her every curve.
Focusing back on the girl who deserves it, I consider making good on it. To kick the stronghold in my head and chest, but it’s that stronghold that tells me it’s not happening tonight or ever.
You’re in love with her.
In a desperate search for a silver lining, I catch the fresh gleam of my truck parked feet away. I’d picked up my denial date right after the tape was pulled off the immaculate paint job, deciding to debut my lime green antique pickup with a blacktop at our meetup. Lately, I’ve found a lot of satisfaction in working on cars, taking things apart, and figuring out their inner workings before making them whole again. The irony not lost on me that I wish it were as easy in life—for people. Though people aren’t fixable, their mistakes can be camouflaged.
It’s my newly discovered niche.
Another lining is that since our blowout this summer, Sean has stepped up in a major way, using his former schmoozing skills for his hookups to start networking. The board is getting closer to where I need it to be for my departure into the Corps. But even with the table set, it’s my fucking heart that keeps me continually running past my recruiter’s office. At this point, I’m only a signature away from being sent to march. For months, I’ve been holding out hope but unable to take a fucking step in any direction personally.
Just leave, Jennings. She won’t even notice.
That sting lingers as Amy sidles up to me, and I turn to her, unable to escape the grim ache leaching into me tonight. “Hey, you mind if we get out of here?”
“Sure.” She gives me an easy nod as I turn to signal Dom, who gives me a chin lift, the mischievous glint in his silver-gray eyes filled with the assumption I’m about to have a good night. I’m fucking not. The never-ending longing in my chest is telling me as much and only fueling my frustration.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m met with Amy’s frown as I palm the back of her head, giving her a slow kiss of apology. An attempt to find some spark.
“I didn’t think you were taking me home,” she says, slightly dazed as I pull away, my decision solidified.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “As cliché as it sounds, it’s not you and a thousand percent me. My mind isn’t here tonight, and you deserve better.”
“Tyler, I want to give you what you want. You know I’m into you,” she admits as the guilt settles in.
“I’m an asshole,” I admit. “I’m just not there right now. Head and heart. I’m sorry.”
“So, it’s over?” she asks in a shaky tone.
“I don’t want to lead you on,” I tell her. “Is that okay?”
“Guess it has to be,” she sighs. “You’re into someone else?”
I nod and give her sincerity. “I really am sorry. I feel like shit.”
“I believe you are,” she finally says after a long beat. “You were a surprise”—she winks—“a good one.” She presses her forehead to mine, eyes watering. “Thanks for not being like the others.”
She gets out of the truck, shooting me a smile through the passenger glass as I do the same. Neither one of us feeling it. Too restless to go home, I familiarize myself with the town I grew up in, knowing it might come in handy someday. Where most see roads now, I see Delphine’s mental mapping techniques. Where most meet people and greet others with a handshake, I find myself taking in their details, gestures, word choice, and movements. Delphine’s opened my mind to everything, including the feeling I can’t shake.
You’re in love with her, and that can’t be camouflaged.
That truth rings clear in my mind and heart, plaguing me as my cell phone rattles in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see Dom’s texted me a location. Confused but in need of distraction, I navigate to the address, which ends in an alleyway off Main, and catch movement. Headlights beaming on the darkened alley, I pull to a stop when I see two familiar heads pop above a patched quilt where they’re huddled next to a large dumpster.
Exiting my truck, I call out to them. “Charlie? Tweety? What in the hell are you two doing out here?”
“Dammit, Dom,” I hear Charlie grumble as I approach. “I knew he wouldn’t let it go. Don’t tell him,” she snaps. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“But it’s Big Bird,” Jane counters.
“I know who the hell it is.”
“You should, Charlie,” I interject, now standing directly in front of them, “because I licked your tonsils dry trying to learn how to French kiss.” A short pause ensues before they slowly pull the blanket down, Jane grinning as Charlie gives me the evil eye.
“That’s why I dumped you,” Charlie delivers with ease before she deadpans.
