* * * *
“Tyler! What the hell is this crap?”
Tyler winced and withdrew his hands from the keyboard. He heard Erin banging things around in the kitchen, pans hitting the counter with unusual force, cabinet doors slamming. “What is what, dear?”
He started to stand when she appeared in his office doorway. She’d just returned from her training session and was still dressed in her workout clothes, her hair damp with sweat.
“This!” In her hands she held the still-warm baking pan.
“It’s a peach cobbler.”
Erin’s “ick” face told Tyler all he needed to know. “What have I told you?” She shoved the pan at him and forced him to take it. “I’m training for the freaking Gasparilla Marathon, okay? What about that don’t you understand?”
He looked at the still untouched cobbler. He’d pulled it from the oven about an hour ago. “I’m sorry, love. I thought you might enjoy it. I used fresh fruit and didn’t use as much sugar as the recipe called for. I also used whole wheat flour.”
She turned, the conversation apparently already over in her mind. “I’m not eating it. Take it to work and share it in the faculty lounge. I swear, sometimes I think you don’t have a brain, or you’re deliberately trying to sabotage me.” She left, slamming their bedroom door shut seconds later.
“Sorry, love,” Tyler muttered to himself. He looked at the pan in his hand. She’d complained about his baking, claiming empty calories would damage her training. He couldn’t make any of the richer desserts he enjoyed, obviously. He’d thought this would be perfect, that after four months of marriage he’d finally found a way to make her happy about something.
With a sigh he carried it back into the kitchen, covered it with foil, and tucked it into the microwave where she wouldn’t immediately see it. A half hour later, he was in his office when he heard the front door open and close.
“Erin?”
He looked. Gone.
He tried her cell. “Were you planning on saying good-bye?”
“I’m late for class, Tyler. Sheesh. I’ll see you tonight.”
“About what ti—”
She hung up on him.
Around midnight he started awake at the sound of the front door softly opening and closing. She quietly crept into the bathroom, closed the door, and started the shower. He thought he caught a familiar whiff of men’s cologne, but it disappeared before he was certain. He didn’t want to let his mind drift in that direction anyway.
It couldn’t be.
He rolled over, facing away from her side of the bed, and pretended to be asleep when she slipped under the covers.
The next morning when he awoke at seven, she’d already left, her sneakers missing from the closet. She would be out running until eight, after he’d already left for work.
He tried not to calculate how many hours he’d seen her that week. They could be tallied on both hands with fingers to spare.
Tyler poured himself a cup of coffee—at least she’d had the decency to brew a pot—and climbed into the shower. When he got out, he noticed her clothes from the night before, still crumpled in a pile in the bathroom corner. He picked them up to put them in the hamper and again caught a familiar whiff of cologne.
He fought and lost against the urge to sniff her shirt. There was no doubt in his mind.
That left him with only two options—confrontation or denial.
He stared at the clothes for a long moment before dumping them in the hamper.
Chapter Three
Tommy’s hand shook as he ended the call. His friend and roommate, Kenny, stared at him. “What’s wrong?”
Tommy shook his head, not wanting to say it, knowing that wouldn’t change the truth.
“Dad.”
“What?” Kenny took the phone from him and set it on the table. “Fuck, man, you look horrible.”
“My dad was killed in a car accident this afternoon. Fucking drunk crossed the center line, in a big box truck, hit him head on.” He felt numb.
“Oh, shit. Man. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve got to pack. I need to drive home.”
“How’s your mom?”
He shook his head. “Karen said they had to sedate her.”
“I’ll talk to your professors for you, and your boss. You just be careful.”
He numbly nodded. He packed, remembering his black suit was—how ironic—still up in Savannah. Within an hour he’d packed and headed north away from Tampa.
He stumbled through the process, his sisters looking to him automatically as the “man” of the family to handle things. Somehow, he took charge.
At the graveside service, he glanced at the people in attendance, some he hadn’t seen in a couple of years at least, since high school.
He caught sight of Martin Jayce and felt his heart skip a beat.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Here he was at his father’s funeral, and he had a thought like that?
Martin was there with a woman. When he draped his left arm around her shoulders, Tommy caught sight of the wedding band on his old friend’s left hand.
His face burned. He tried not to listen to the service, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel.
He somehow made it through the next couple of days. He considered staying in Savannah, moving home, but his mother wouldn’t hear of it. Peggy Kinsey felt stronger now that the initial shock had worn off. “You go back to school, Tommy. You’ve missed enough.”
“Daddy would want me to take care of you.”
“He’d skin your hide for dropping out of school and you know it.” Her smile looked sad and forced. “Promise me, baby, you aren’t gonna let us down.”
He caught sight of his brother-in-law Clay through the windows, playing with the twins in the backyard. Tommy suspected he might never have kids of his own. His father hated Em’s choice in Clay at first but eventually grew to tolerate, if not like the man.
He thought about Martin Jayce.
I think I’ve already let Daddy down, he thought.
* * * *
Tommy enjoyed his classes. He liked working for the architectural engineering firm part-time even more. He missed his dad, but throwing himself into his studies and work gave him a focus and a goal.
He made friends with a girl in one of his classes. Maggie was pretty and his age. While they quickly developed an almost sibling-like relationship, he didn’t feel anything remotely romantic for her. He helped her with her engineering classes, and she helped him pass philosophy. They studied together all the time, when work didn’t get in the way.
Then she met a new guy who suddenly took up a lot more of her time. She could only spend time studying with Tommy when the guy was at work.
“Come on, Maggie. The guy’s name is Primo, for chrissake.”
“He’s Italian. It’s a family name.”
She grew more distant emotionally, her mood somber. Then one day after class she took off her sweater before leaving the classroom, and he saw the dark bruise on her arm.
“What the hell is this?”
She blushed and pulled her arm away from him. “It’s nothing. It’s okay.”
As the class emptied, Tommy made her sit. “Tell me.”
“It was just an accident. It’s fine. He grabbed me a little harder than he meant to.”
“Did he hit you?”
She quickly shook her head. “No! Nothing like that.” She reddened deeper. “I made him mad. It was my fault. He apologized. He felt bad about it.”
“Maggie—”
“Please, Tommy. It’s okay.”
He didn’t think it was okay. He kept an eagle eye on her over the next few weeks. More odd bruises appeared on her arms, but he didn’t question her. He didn’t want to drive her further away, didn’t want to isolate her. Wanted to be a safe haven if she needed him.
She didn’t show for class one Tuesday. He tried to call her later, and her phone went to voicemail. When she didn?
??t return his calls, he left work early the next day and stopped by her apartment.
Slow to answer the door, she didn’t want to let him in at first. Even with her hair down he still saw the bruises on her cheek and neck.
“Okay, Maggie, this is enough, girl. Come home with me. Let me—”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It was an accident. He apologized. Really, Tommy, I’m okay.” She caught sight of the clock, and her eyes widened. “Oh no! You have to go. I didn’t realize how late it was.” She started pushing him toward the door, but he stood his ground.
“Maggie, don’t do this.”
“Please, you have to go! Now! He’s supposed to come by after work. If he catches you here—”
“If he catches me here, what? He’ll have to try to beat on me like he’s beating on you?”
She started crying. “He loves me. I know he does. Please, you have to go!”
He turned at the door and gently cupped her chin in his hands. “Maggie, you’re my friend. You’re like a sister to me. Just remember, no matter what, you call me. You talk to me. You always have a safe place.”
She nodded, crying, as he kissed her forehead before leaving.
She came to class next day, but her long hair hung in limp strands, and a large, soft, floppy hat shoved tightly down shadowed her face. She didn’t look at anyone, kept her head down, and sat in the back of the classroom.
After class he tried to catch up with her, but she left so fast he couldn’t. He caught sight of her outside, climbing into a car with a surly-looking asshole who glared at Tommy as he approached.
The guy got out of the car. “You got a problem with me?”
“I got a problem with a guy who takes a whack at women, yeah.”
Maggie got out and stepped between them, desperate. “Primo, please, it’s okay. Tommy’s my friend.”
He jabbed his hand at Tommy. “Stay the fuck away from my girl.”
“She’s my friend, dude. I’m no threat to you. I’m just worried about her.”
“You don’t need to worry about her. You just worry about your own Cracker ass and stay the fuck away.”
Tommy looked at Maggie. “Honey, please—”
“Tommy, it’s okay, really.” She coaxed Primo back to the car. “I’ll see you in class.”
He tried not to worry about her, but two weeks later she looked like shit and wouldn’t talk to him outside of the safety of the classroom. Before class one day, he stopped by Wal-Mart, picked up a cheap prepaid phone and activated it. Before she could scurry from class he blocked her and slipped it into her hand.
“The next time he hits you,” he growled, “either you call me or I will call the cops after I kill the fucker. Do you understand me?”
She nodded and left, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes.
Later that evening, his cell phone rang a little after midnight. Maggie’s hysterical voice ripped him from sleep. “Tommy? Oh my God, he’s drunk, and Beth and Sue aren’t home. Please, come get me!”
“Where are you?” She rattled off an address, a convenience store a few blocks from her apartment complex. She raced out the door and jumped into his truck when he pulled into the parking lot. Her left eye had nearly swollen shut, and he spotted blood crusted on her lip.
“We’re calling the cops. I’ll be damned if I’ll let you lie to them about him, babe.”
Crying, she fell into his arms and nodded.
He dialed 911 from his cell. They waited for a deputy to respond. An hour later, three deputies converged on her apartment while she sat with Tommy in the safety of his truck. After they hauled Primo out in handcuffs, Tommy stepped out of his truck and stared at the man.
“I’m gonna get you, you fucking bitch!” Primo screamed before they shoved him into the back of a cruiser.
Three hours later, after a visit to the ER to make sure Maggie’s injuries weren’t too serious, Tommy tucked her into bed with him and protectively held her. He didn’t feel anything romantic for her even without the crappy circumstances. It would have been like making love to one of his sisters.
He tried to sleep.
* * * *
Three days later, Maggie felt reasonably safe returning to her apartment. But when Primo made bail and started threatening her unless she dropped the charges, Tommy took control and moved her in with him and Kenny.
She didn’t fight him.
Tommy left her at his place one evening two weeks after the attack, using the excuse that he and Kenny were helping a friend move. He knew from talking to Maggie’s roommates that Primo came by every night looking for her, usually drunk. Tommy and Kenny picked up a pizza and drove to Maggie’s apartment, where they waited while the roommates went to see a movie, paid for by Tommy.
Right on time, the asshole showed up, drunk and mean and looking for a fight.
The men gave him one.
Maggie didn’t awaken when the men returned home a little after two in the morning. After beating the asshole unconscious, they dumped him, naked, at the Hillsborough River State Park.
He could find his own fucking way home.
* * * *
A month later, after Primo was jailed without bond for grand theft charges, Maggie felt safe enough to return to her apartment. Tommy missed her, but knew despite Kenny’s teasing that she would never be anything more in his heart than a dear friend. Slowly she returned mostly to her old self, although she wore an air of sadness she’d never had before.
They grabbed lunch after class one day. She was going through the campus paper while he reviewed his notes for his afternoon class.
“Oh! Have you read his book?” She shoved the paper across the table at him and pointed at an article’s headline.
“Damning Thoughts” Means Dreams of Success for Professor Paulson.
“No. Any good?”
“Oh, man, they have it over at the campus bookstore. It’s a bestseller! He’s great!” She looked at the black-and-white picture accompanying the article and sighed. “I saw him once, between classes. He’s British, you know. You’d love his book. He’s got a short story anthology coming out, too. The article says he’s got contracts for two sequels to Damning Thoughts.”
“Cool. Local celebrity.”
That night was their weekly dinner and DVD together. Since dumping Primo, Maggie swore she would never let another man interfere with her relationship with Tommy. She showed up at his apartment with dinner fixings, a Netflix selection, and a small paper bag bearing the campus bookstore’s logo. “Here.”
“What’s this?” He removed the book. Damning Thoughts by Tyler Paulson. “Oh, sweetie, you didn’t have to do this.” The hardcover book had to be a strain on her budget.
She kissed his cheek and started making dinner. “It’s the least I can do for the guy who saved my life.”
Later, after she left, he couldn’t sleep. He’d drunk too much iced tea throughout the day and felt wide awake. He spotted the book on his bedside table.
Why not?
Four hours later, he’d read nearly half the book. It was amazing. Maggie hadn’t exaggerated. He forced himself to put the book down, but not before staring at the back jacket cover. Paulson’s intense blue eyes stared back at him from the author photo. Sandy brown hair and a sweet smile.
Nice.
He clipped that line of thought and tried to go to sleep.
Chapter Four
Wednesday morning, Tyler felt a headache threatening. Tension, no doubt. Headache now, fight with Erin later. They came like clockwork, it seemed. Nothing he did was right or good enough, no matter how hard he tried. She would pounce as soon as he arrived home.
If she was even home.
He would sit and take it until she finished verbally scourging him for whatever he’d done this time.
And he would sit and take it. He would never lash out at her. He loved her, despite the recent trend in their relationship. Saying nothing was better than saying something he couldn’t take
back later.
He had to teach an evening class that night. His routine was to stay on campus, lock himself in his office and write or go to the library for research. He never went home before the evening class because it was too much trouble fighting rush hour traffic to get back on time, too stressful. Especially if Erin was in a foul mood and picked yet another fight with him.
After lunch he decided to torture himself a little more and walked down the hall to Erin’s office. She’d already left for the day.
Strange.
Across the hall, he found Robert’s office also locked, a posted note apologizing for his absence.
A nasty feeling shifted in Tyler’s gut. His instincts rarely proved wrong, even though he prayed they were in this instance.
His mind thought back to the past few weeks. Robert had left early the past several Wednesdays, without explanation.
As had Erin.
The hint of a man’s familiar cologne on Erin’s shirt.
Without word to anyone, Tyler left, hurrying home to their apartment.
Robert’s car sat parked next to Erin’s.
Tyler took a deep breath and quietly let himself in. Mozart played on the stereo, just loud enough they couldn’t hear him enter the apartment. On numb feet he walked to the open bedroom door.
Erin lay beneath Robert as he pounded his cock into her while she begged for more.
Stunned shock set in. After a moment, he cleared his throat. The lovers startled.
Erin had the decency to yank the sheet over herself. She started to stammer something at him, but Tyler didn’t want to hear.
He turned to go when Robert spoke. “Tyler, I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” He didn’t slam the front door behind him, still too numb for any kind of thought. He drove back to campus and sat in his locked and darkened office, waiting for his class to start.
He turned off his cell. He didn’t know what, if anything, she would say.
He didn’t know what to say to her.
Hadn’t he expected this anyway? He couldn’t make her happy. Nothing he did was right. He loved her far more than she loved him. That much was blatantly obvious to him, even at the beginning. He’d chased her for her affection from the start, grateful for whatever scraps she tossed in his direction.