Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2) #Severed Heart: Chapter 22 - Read Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2) Severed Heart: Chapter 22 Online - All Page

Severed Heart: Chapter 22

TYLER KNOCKS BEFORE bursting through the storm door, and I jump back in surprise as he stalks toward me—a light dancing in his eyes as he issues his order. “Get dressed, General.”

“I am dressed,” I utter, tightening my robe, not budging an inch.

“Then change, and before you ask, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”

I eye the pint on the counter, and his own eyes follow. “Bring it. Just stick it in your purse.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like not knowing where I go.”

“Trust me on this. You’ll like it. A lot. Wear something simple. Jeans and a T-shirt is fine, but bring a sweater in case it gets cold.”

“Why would I be cold?” I stall as he stares over at me. It’s then I notice he is dressed well, and his hair is neatly combed.

“No more questions, and I know you don’t have to work tonight”—his demanding tone rips my eyes from his styled hair—“so stop trying to come up with excuses.”

“We can finish our battle,” I propose, nodding toward our table of soldiers in play.

“Not tonight,” he insists, his expression resigned.

“Fine,” I sigh, “but if—”

“If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” he finishes, “I promise.”

Forty-five minutes later, Tyler and I glance around the parking lot as hordes of people exit their cars to enter the Asheville shopping mall. I turn to him where he sits in my driver’s seat.

“This is terrible surprise, Soldier. You still don’t know your opponent well. I am not enthusiastic to shop. Take me home.”

He laughs as he pulls out his wallet before lifting two papers from it and thrusting them toward me. “Still want to go home?”

I push his wrist away, and his expression pinches in remorse now that he’s aware of my issue with reading and writing.

“Shit, sorry”—he lifts his voice—“these right here are tickets to Revenge of the Sith,” he boasts, “Star Wars—”

“EPISODE THREE! TYLER!” I clap excitedly as he cracks his door open with a dimple-filled smile.

“Still want to go home?”

I shake my head.

“Then come on, little Yoda,” he urges, getting out and rounding the car to meet me at my door before lifting his elbow. I stare down at it as he extends his offered arm further toward me. “It could get hairy in there,” he warns.

“How could a movie be hairy?” I wrinkle my nose.

“No, the theater, hairy means busy.”

“That is just a stupid expression,” I say. “Why not just say busy? I suspect you use the worst possible metaphors just to confuse and tease me.”

“I absolutely fucking do,” he admits with a chuckle as I take his offered arm.

“Not as nice of a boy as you make yourself to be,” I harrumph.

“Oh, I can be very naughty,” he teases, “and it will be busy in there because it’s opening weekend. I don’t want to lose track of you, General Half-Pint, so don’t let go.”

“Okay.” Beaming, I tighten my hand around his bicep, unable to stop smiling even after the attendant takes our tickets and tears them, handing me the stubs.

Just after, Tyler gently ushers me to the concession counter as an anxious, sweat-covered teenager steps up, eyeing the growing line behind us with apprehension before posing his question to me.

“What will you have?”

“I don’t care,” I mutter, glancing around the crowded theater complex.

“What she meant to say is,” Tyler speaks up on my behalf, amused by my brash as he scans the brightly lit menu hovering behind the attendant. “We’ll take a large popcorn with extra butter, layered, and two large Cokes, please,” he adds before turning to me, eyes dancing with mirth as he gently shakes his head. “You are something else.”

“What else could I be?” I shrug.

“Exactly,” he laughs as I roll my eyes at his constant poking, which I am thankful for over any pity. Minutes later, after gathering our pile of snacks from the counter, Tyler guides me down the hall toward our designated theater. I whip my head back and forth to take it all in while tightly gripping the huge, ridiculously expensive Cokes in my hands, being careful not to spill them—which he doesn’t miss—biting his smile away.

“What? They are so expensive.”

“Always are,” he retorts, guiding me into the dimly lit theater. Glancing around the hushed room, I follow him down the aisle between a sea of large red seats, many of them occupied.

“Do you have a preference?” Tyler asks me over his shoulder.

“For what?”

“Where do you want to sit? You an up close to the action kinda gal or”—he waggles his brows—“more into the action at the back of the house?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? The kissing tramp doesn’t know?” he pokes.

“I have never been to a movie,” I whisper my admission.

“You’re shittin’ me,” he utters without an ounce of humor in his tone as he runs gentle eyes over my face.

“Non, not shittin’ you. Which is also a terrible expression, but this is my first time, so merci beaucoup, Tyler.”

“My pleasure,” he whispers sweetly. “Follow me,” he says, cradling the popcorn in one arm, his other hand gripping several boxes of candy as he scans the aisles.

“Why such big drinks?” I ask as he leads us down a row in the middle.

“You won’t be asking after a couple handfuls of popcorn,” he says, politely navigating us past a few of those already sitting in our aisle.

As we take our seats, I inhale a mouthwatering whiff of cologne and freeze when I realize it’s wafting from the boy next to me.

He’s wearing cologne?

As he adjusts himself in his seat, and after I put the drinks into the holders—very convenient—it strikes me then just how nicely he’s dressed. As he settles in and grabs a mouthful of popcorn from the tub now in my lap, I catch a glint of his watch. This one shiny silver, not the typical plastic sports watch he wears.

My excitement dims with that realization as I sink into the large seat, so very comfortable, and glance around the theater, noticing many couples surround us. A few rows down, a group of teenagers toss popcorn back and forth while talking loudly. Unease starts to sneak in as I turn to question Tyler. “No one else wanted to come? Not Dom or Sean?”

“They’re at the garage installing a part on Sean’s Nova. And they aren’t really into Star Wars like we are.” He shrugs. “They’ll probably wait for the DVD to come out.”

With his easy delivery of this, I try to relax. It’s when a couple a row down begins to kiss that I realize why he mentioned the kissing tramp, and I avert my eyes as more unease settles over me. Of course, I know that it is tradition for couples to kiss at the movies, but we are not a couple. Tyler doesn’t want to kiss me. He is my fishin’ buddy. I’m his mentor. Nothing more. Sensing the tension in me, the polished-up boy in the seat next to me speaks up. “Hey.” He gently nudges my arm on the rest. “You okay? Do you want to go?”

The lights dim just as I open my mouth to speak, and the large screen bursts to life, deafening sound surrounding us. Startled, I spill some of the bucket of popcorn. Tyler chuckles as I flick some of the kernels from my jeans, my cheeks heating for looking so simple.

“I am the imbecile tonight.” I roll my eyes at him.

“No, Delphine, you’re not. You could never be that,” he whispers so sincerely that I look over at him. “I’m glad I get to share this first time with you.”

I give him a smile I know is kind. A smile I feel. “Me too.”

I am safe. Tyler is safe.

I remind myself of this as my nerves start to fray because, in truth, I do feel safe with Tyler and relay this as best as possible as I turn to him. “This was a wonderful surprise and treat, private. Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he says, leaning over for more popcorn, his inviting scent invading my senses, pulling me in slightly. Trying to push any ill feelings the sensation causes to the side, I blindly reach for my purse on the floor to retrieve my bottle.

Just a sip.

“Delphine,” Tyler whispers when I take two sips instead. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can leave. I won’t be upset.”

“No, no, I want to watch,” I insist, keeping my eyes on the screen. As the movie starts, I take one more sip and another. But even after I get lost in the movie, the unease refuses to leave me fully. By the time the movie ends, I have few sips left.

* * *

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tyler says several minutes into our drive home.

“Why is that awful?” I ask, pulling my eyes from the passing traffic.

“Another expression,” he grins, a devilish sparkle in his eyes as the air vents blow his cologne through the cabin of the car, and it again surrounds me. “You haven’t said much since we left the theater.”

“I am just thinking about the movie.”

“And?” he asks, exiting the highway to enter Triple Falls.

“So many parallels to our true world. Man’s greed and struggle for power. For one side to reign, as another fights for independence, for freedom of such strict rule. The same story for so many wars, and still we never learn.”

“Agreed.”

“It was tragic,” I say. “Anakin’s descent . . . loss of himself to his darkness, to become Darth Vader. You know it will happen, but you are sad when it does. It’s painful to know what remains behind his mask, his future cross to bear.”

“It’s grim, but that’s the story.”

“Sadly, yes, the true nature of the struggle within everyone.” I turn to him as the streetlights run over his profile. “Everyone wears a mask,” I point out with a sigh.

“Think so?”

“You know this, Tyler. Don’t play ignorance.”

“I’m not. What’s my mask?” he asks.

“You know that too.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Your mask is reliable, Tyler, with the sad, soulful eyes who thinks opinions he does not dare speak. Tyler, who cares for his mother, loyal to his friends.” I unscrew my bottle and sip the last of my pint. “Tyler, who caters to his best friend’s drunk aunt.”

“Whoa,” he says, pulling to a stoplight before giving me a hard stare. “You’re no charity case. I hang with you because I fucking want to.”

“See”—I point toward him, dropping my empty bottle in my purse—“you’re using your mask right now because you’re afraid to offend me, but I often see what you refuse to say. But what happens when Tyler, who is not so okay all the time, gets irrationally angry and releases those words? Reveals his true thoughts in those moments and dark parts of himself. What will happen?”

He presses the gas, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know, but I sure as shit don’t want to go around being some out-of-control, frothing-at-the-mouth, unhinged asshole who acts on his anger only to fuck up my relationships and possibly my life.”

“Hmm, like me?”

His head whips toward me. “No, that’s not what I’m saying . . . Jesus, I’m not insulting you. Why are you trying to start an argument?”

“I’m not, but that is what you think. If you are brash like me, you know it will not bode well for you. I’m a good example of what not to do.”

“Stop twisting it.”

“There is no twisting this truth, Tyler. I know what my mouth does to people. I make them uncomfortable. I say things that do real damage that I cannot take back. You stop yourself. I chose not to in my past. Now, I try not to be so brash. Cause less damage.”

“Is that why you isolate so much? Is this what you think about in your long baths?”

I slowly nod as he glances over, knowing my opponent has studied me far more closely than I thought, as the unease spikes again.

“I sabotage myself and make many unforgivable mistakes. My cross to bear as the maskless woman.”

“So, stop doing it,” he says as if the task is simple.

“Do not be so naïve. It’s against my true nature.”

“I know you can. You’re trying every day.”

“You have a fool’s faith,” I warn. “Too much faith in me.”

“You do, too. I’m no fucking angel. I do drop my mask,” he asserts. Maybe not in a way that damns me, yet, but I do,” he confesses. “And it’s far from innocent.”

“Show me,” I challenge.

“What?”

“Show me,” I prompt. “Speak to me as Tyler without his mask.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Because you refuse to,” I counter.

“It’s different . . . it’s a different atmosphere, a different circumstance on the occasions I do.” He pauses. “Honestly, I don’t think of it as a mask.”

“It is as is for everyone.”

“It’s not like I’m hiding a whole other personality. It’s just anger,” he explains, “emotion overload.”

“Of this, you are sure?”

“No,” he spouts in aggravation. “I don’t fucking know.” His jaw hardens a fraction. “This is a weird conversation.”

“It is uncomfortable conversation because you fear maskless Tyler. Welcome to the dark side of the force, Luke,” I joke. “Do you have bad thoughts when you go dark?”

“They’re blackouts, so I don’t know.”

“Then you need to tap into them and find out.”

“How in the hell can I do that?” He balks. “It’s absence of consciousness. I can’t just flip a switch to get to that headspace.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . that’s not possible. This isn’t fucking Star Wars, there is no force to tap into,” he scoffs.

“It is possible. If you can breathe your way out, why can you not breathe your way in? May not be nonsense like Jedi force, but our minds are very powerful.”

“I’m aware.” He bites his lip as he considers my words. “So, you mean, like, blink to black?”

“Exactly.” I nod.

“Seems unrealistic,” he dismisses.

“Tyler, do you believe that people who carry out orders to kill feel happy mental space before every mission?”

“No, but—”

“Sociopaths and bloodthirst killers maybe, but made weapons, like a sniper, do much psychological training to do their job and after to remain humane.”

“How in the hell am I going to do that? You know of a sniper school around here?”

“I told you I can help you with this. We can start anytime. I’m waiting on you, but you are resisting this. Purposely stalling.”

“Because this whole conversation is fucking . . .” He glances over at me and grins to help to lighten the tension. “Let me get this straight. You’re trying to lure me to the dark side of the force?”

“No, this conversation is nonsense to you because you are making it nonsense. I’m pointing out truth. You need to look inside and see what is there. Maybe you do not believe me or hear me because you think me weak for not defending myself to Dominic.”

He gapes at me. “Where is this coming from? I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. I can feel your annoyance when I do not defend myself to him, but your mask won’t let you say it.”

“It’s not my business, but yeah, it bothers me to see you hurt.”

“Don’t let it, and do not let it interfere with your relationship with Dominic. In taking a look inside, I know my lack of mask allowed me to behave horrible toward two scared little boys, and I failed them because I’m not a maternal woman.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. The maternal part, anyway.”

“There is when you have to raise two grieving young boys. It was a problem I could not solve in the haze, and I hurt them for it.”

“You had been through something. You had just lost your sister.”

I shake my head. “Try again.”

“Fine.” His posture grows taut. “Because you’re an asshole?”

I nod. “Frothing at mouth asshole.”

“But you care, you love.” He pleads for me. “You said so yourself. You loved Celine.”

“I care, I have loved, but I have a cruel nature that I not only embrace often but used to do damage I cannot rectify.” I sigh. “My baths are to cleanse myself so God will better hear my prayers and help with my regret.”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness and all that shit?”

“Not shit,” I defend. “I don’t tell you what to believe, so do not condemn mine.”

“Got it,” he sighs out. “Sorry.” At the next light, he stays silent for a long moment. “That’s such a bleak fucking existence, Delphine. You could just apologize.”

“You cannot apologize for that sort of thing. Those apologies do not get accepted, Tyler. Dom’s anger is my fault. Look at me,” I implore, and he does, his expression a mask of refusal even as I tell him otherwise.

“I am a villain, not victim, not a damsel in stress. I made selfish choices and spoke horrible things, many of them were purposeful. Believe my truth and not what you want to see in me.”

“I don’t share your opinion.”

“That is funny because a villain is the only thing I am sure I am anymore, but in mentoring you, I see the chance to maybe redeem myself.”

“So, that’s what this friendship is for you,” he says, running a finger along the bottom of the wheel at the stoplight as the air grows thick with his anger. “I’m your shot at redemption with Dom and Tobias. Got it. All right.” Fury lights his expression before he gives me another hard stare.

“I’m not drunk,” I declare. “But think it anyway, so you can say to yourself, ‘she didn’t mean any of her brash last night. It was the vodka talking for her.’ So you can forgive me and forget this conversation, and we can be like normal tomorrow. Masks on.”

“You are being an asshole,” he declares bitterly as he stomps on the gas, his face lit by the green light as we pass. “How about that?”

“Oh, mean, tough guy,” I laugh and shake my head. “That is being defensive, Tyler, not dropping your mask.”

“What got you so pissed at me tonight? I thought we were having a good time.”

“I’m not mad at you, Tyler. I’m reflecting on my past decisions, my cross, and maybe I’m the asshole to you for it. I’m sorry to upset you with my brash truth.”

“Only because you flat out admitted you’re using me because you can’t get to Dom.”

“Maybe it was part of the truth at the beginning, but it’s not truth anymore. You have become my very good friend, but you should not be spending your free time with me. You should be spending time with your friends, Dom and Sean, with people of your age.”

His face pinches in anger. “I do. I do every single day, and you know that.”

“But you end most of them with me.”

“What’s fucking wrong with that?” he retorts with edge in his voice.

“Why did you hide us from your family when we fish?” I ask, speaking quickly, as not to allow whatever excuse he may come up with to pass his lips. “Because you know they would not approve of friendship with a woman of my age.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” he utters in weak argument.

“We know that, but we also know outsiders won’t understand.”

I turn to see the hurt etched on his face and quickly dart my eyes away.

“You know I speak the truth, and yes, we do have a very good friendship. You are a beautiful boy,” I tell him, “who should also be distracted by the ladies like cousin Barrett.”

“Trust me, I’m fucking covered there.” His short laugh is menacing as his stare hardens further. “Unlike you, I am not just a kissing tramp and do fuck the girls.” His chest pumps with a silent laugh as he shakes his head ironically. “Jesus, I just wanted to take you to the fucking movies.”

“Tyler—”

He whips his head toward me, pinning me silent with a withering stare. “Mask off, huh?” he chides, his eyes sweeping me in condescension.

“You want to know what I’ve learned these last few years about so-called fucking adults?” he delivers with a voice full of venom. “That adults are just a bunch of petrified kids, running around, fucking up their lives. Acting like toddlers while making bigger mistakes than any kid my age could and numbing themselves fucking stupid after, all the while claiming undeserved moral high ground. While in truth, a majority of them are masking who they really are and what they want from the rest of the world. So, excuse me if I take my confidence, arrogance, and lingering youth over being the next in line to live the adult lie any day.”

His bite stings me briefly mute, but I manage my reply. “Maybe this is the truth, but I am not your answer.”

“No, maybe you’re not,” he relays bitterly, “but you’re only a dozen years older than me. So, you can drop the bullshit pretense you think fits our unconventional friendship.” He spits the word as if it annoys him. “You’re no one of authority over me who has to act any certain way in my company. Not that you’ve ever bothered too much before.”

During the rest of the ride back to my house, I keep my eyes focused forward, only catching glimpses of his hands tightening on the steering wheel, along with the increasing rigidity in his shoulders. His affections—for whatever they may be—are misplaced, and I can’t allow him to get any closer. Can’t allow that look I sometimes catch whispers of in his eyes to deepen any further. Knowing that if I entertain any of it for a single second, it could be detrimental to our friendship. One I had hoped so much to keep but feel slipping through my hands with his offense. When he parks in my driveway and angrily opens the passenger door for my exit, I catch his wary gaze and will him to understand.

I am poison, beautiful boy. I am poison.

“Tyler, please understand I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry, I lashed out,” he says, cupping the back of his head. No lingering warmth to be found when he lifts my keys to take. “I guess I misunderstood our friendship. Thanks for setting me straight. Night, Delphine.”

The look of dejection he leaves me with follows me as I speed to my freezer to open a new pint.

* * *

I’m sorry, General. I didn’t mean it. I was a frothing-at-the-mouth asshole.

General, it’s been a week. It’s hard to apologize when you won’t let me.

General Half-Pint: Is fine I workin g

It’s not fine. I’m sorry. Want to go fishing tomorrow so I can make it up to you?

General Half-Pint: Non I bsy wrk many shifs solder keep run miles

No issue there. I’m up to six a day.

Hey General. I graduated today!

General Half-Pint: very hap py for this privaet for accompihsl this

Up for a game tonight to help celebrate?

General Half-Pint: Non I wo rk you shuold celbrate with Dom and Seen