Page 9 of Butterfly

“There’s another thing I’d like to talk to you about, and since you can’t walk or stand for a long time, I’m going to talk here and now.” Tyler takes my left wrist and inches it towards him, gauging my reaction.

He pauses when I gasp. A quick rise of anxiety burns the back of my throat. I try to tug my arm out of his grip, but he doesn’t let me go. His strong fingers hold my arm in place, gently but firmly.

“Please wait,” Tyler says. “Let me talk.”

Alex straightens and shifts towards me. The movement is subtle, but big enough for me to notice. True to his surname, I guess he’s ready to intervene. But Tyler isn’t going to hurt me. Not physically. He glances at Alex and seems on the point of telling him something before he shakes his head.

“Let’s not tell each other lies. You know I don’t like them, and we’ve always been honest with each other.”

No, not really. Not me at least.

Tyler exhales. “After what happened in Tua, things might get tough for you. Once you see things, you can’t unsee them. I know that. You know that. And that kid died. That must’ve shocked you.” He tracesthescar with his big, rough thumb, not in a soothing way. He’s making a point. “I’ve been friends with enough soldiers to know dark thoughts seize you by the throat when you least expect it. Usually, when you’re down.”

“Tyler.” Shivers run through me, and my teeth are almost chattering. “You don’t have to…” I don’t know how to end the sentence.

He strokes my scar again, worry lines wrinkling the skin around his eyes. “Sienna, I don’t want to receive that call.”

“Why don’t you let her go?” Alex’s question sounds polite, but the annoyance is brewing right underneath its surface, like the muscles swelling under his T-shirt.

Tyler must’ve spotted that too because he fires him a hard, warrior glare that—sorry, Alex—no movie star could ever imitate. Knowing him, he’s annoyed Alex thinks he’s hurting me. “That’s the point. I don’t want to let her go. I want her to call me, and you’re my witness I demanded that of her.” He turns towards me, his expression softening. “If those dark thoughts take you…again, I want you to call me. No matter what time it is. No matter what day it is. You call me, and we’ll talk until the dark thoughts are gone.”

I swallow past the humiliation in my throat. “Yes,” I whisper, hoping he stops talking.

He edges closer to the point that I can see the determination in his eyes. “You don’t mean it. You’re saying ‘yes’ only because you hope I’ll shut up. We agreed not to lie to each other.”

Gee, he knows me so well.

“Using that tone isn’t going to help her.” Alex puts a hand on Tyler’s arm, his fingers contracting. He’s as big and brawny as Tyler, but Tyler knows how to fight for real. Alex is an actor.

“You don’t know Sienna as I do,” Tyler says, arching his brow.

“No, I don’t. But she’s shivering and paling.” Alex’s wish to protect me is cute. Can’t deny it.

It’s true though. I’m shivering, but not because Tyler is frightening me. I don’t want to think, talk, remember, hear, or be reminded of what I did to myself. I take the darkness and stuff it in a sealed mind box in a remote corner of my brain. That’s how I deal with it. Not healthy perhaps, but hey, it works for me. That’s the only way I can function.

“I’m simply worried about her,” Tyler says with the patient tone of one who’s talking with a person who doesn’t understand English.

Bet ‘Alex being his witness’ thing isn’t going as he planned.

“Then you should just tell her so?” Alex doesn’t take his gaze off him.

A moment of uncomfortable silence stretches, punctuated by the fast tempo of a tendon in Tyler’s neck and the throb of a vein in Alex’s hand. I can smell the testosterone. It’s like that time I found myself between two male German shepherds fighting each other.

“Yeah, I’m not subtle,” Tyler admits, defusing the tension.

Alex withdraws his hand. “Neither am I.”

Tyler releases my wrist. I rub the suddenly stinging scar as Alex and Tyler exchange one of those curt nods men do when they…I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Letting out a long breath, Tyler puts his hand on the armrest of my seat. Then he angles towards me. “You have the face of an angel, the heart of an angel, and the voice of an angel. You don’t have to become one.” With a pat to the top of my head, he strides off.

I’m wheezing by the time he leaves.

“Are you all right?” Alex asks, the tension gone. Only kindness laces his words.

“Yes, thank you.” I can’t bring myself to talk to him or meet his gaze. Cowardly, I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes.

He lingers. I can tell because his warmth caresses me. A swish of fabric comes as he moves away.

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