Tyed(59)

Or, at the very least, I intend to try.





Chapter Sixteen


I decide to send the new phone that Ty got for me back to The Grind. I don't dare set foot in there, though. Not after how I had left things with Dawson, AKA the adoring coach, and Jesse, AKA the wingman. Both probably consider me public enemy number one now that I dumped their boy.

As for Ty, I would definitely never risk bumping into him.

No. I send the phone to The Grind via Izzy, who doesn't seem to share my disdain for the XWL. She returns home horny as hell and muttering about Shane. She’s already replaced my old phone with a new one—her graduation gift. I purposely get a new number so I won’t be tempted to text Ty when I get lonely, sad and teary-eyed at night.

I earned my degree, but I skip the commencement ceremony. I never really dug the whole college thing anyway. In hindsight, I may have been better off studying somewhere else, far away from home, but considering my lack of success in high school, there was no way my parents would have funded an out of state tuition fee.

Especially to major in communications studies.

Needless to say, my parents were very disappointed with my decision to keep the festivities to a minimum, even more so when they suggested we celebrate my graduation at a restaurant and invited me to a steakhouse.

Me. Their daughter. Who refused to eat meat since she was around nine.

I declined politely, Mom was angry, Izzy reminded her of my food preferences, Mom apologized, and now we're all good. And by “good” I mean the usual not-talking-about-it state or repressed anger and silent tension typical in my family.

But hey, I graduated.

I freaking graduated, and no one can take that away from me. They thought I wouldn't, but I proved them wrong. Hah. Take that, Mr. and Mrs. Skeptical.

Mikey and Bree throw me a little Sunday-afternoon graduation party at Ned's. It's nothing, really. Just a few beers and ice cream sandwiches with the staff. It's not even my shift, so I find myself sitting on one of the stools next to Bree, holding a root beer in one hand and an ice cream sandwich in another, grinning when Mikey goes on and on about how they're all so proud of me.

After his speech, Bree studies my face. "How are you holding up, honey?"

I'm not, I want to tell her, but instead take a big gulp of root beer, buying time.

"Yeah, not bad,” I finally say. “Not bad at all." Jesus, even I don't buy this.

Bree cocks her head, a funny look plastered on her face. "Hey, are you and Ty back together?"

I snort loudly. "Not in this lifetime."

Bree purses her lips. She's awfully quiet when she excuses herself from the barstool next to me, grabbing her drink and joining one of our colleagues, Amy. She doesn’t even like Amy.

I turn my head in the direction that made Bree change her mind about sitting next to me, and now it's my turn to purse my lips.

Oh, no he didn't.

Only he totally did.

Heart takes a nosedive and my shoulders tense.

"What are you doing here?" I say quietly, my voice almost a whisper. The unbearable emptiness I've been walking around with for the past week turns into an excruciating pain that slams into me with anger. I may feel hollow without him, but seeing him now only makes things worse.

"Can we please just talk? I'm running out of ideas about where and how to find you." His voice, that I missed so dearly, is pulling every emotional string in my body.

"Good." I try to keep my expression neutral. "That's the general idea."

But even after saying this, I know that I can't let him leave without hearing him out.

"It won't take long," Ty reassures.

I stride warily toward him, my quivering lower lip completely betraying whatever mask of cool I've been desperately trying to put on. Ty looks great, but not what I expected. Slightly thinner, not his bulky, usual self, and his eyes are tired. Usually, after a long-awaited fight, fighters go on binge-fests and rock a few days of relaxation, but Ty looks even worse than he did when he cut weight and trained like hell. He's beat.

"Let's take it outside." He nods at the door, and I follow him silently. He leans against the back wall outside, one foot and his back pressed against the bricks, his hands deep in his pockets. I fold my arms and wait for him to start.

"Well?" I ask, expecting him to apologize. But he doesn't, he just stares at me blankly.

"Well...what? I wanted to see you, see how you're doing, say congrats about you graduating. Have you gone to that job interview yet?"

Is he kidding me?

"Are you not going to apologize?"

"For what?" He wrinkles his forehead. I'm floored. Is this a joke?

"You were a male prostitute," I accuse.

"Before I knew of your existence, before we've even met. I've never even looked at a girl since our first date."

"You hid your past away from me. You had no right."

"I had every f*cking right. It's my past, not my present, not my future. Besides, I remember pretty clearly I did promise to share my past with you at some point, when I was ready, not when your little BFF decided to throw another bash-fest for me."

"You put me at risk when you slept with me." I raise my voice, losing control over my emotions. My hands are shaking, but it doesn't stop me from waving them at Ty frantically. "I could've caught something. This is serious."