Page 34 of Restored By You

“And you were right,” I admit, my hands in my lap as I try to find the words. “My dad…he did pass me off, a lot. All the time, actually. I had so many nannies; the hiring agency had to cross state lines just to find fresh resumes.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” My laugh leans a bit more self-deprecating than I’d like. “My point is, I get it. And I don’t blame you for being upset and feeling like you’ve been abandoned.” Tyler’s poor face twists in agony and I reach out to take his hand. “It’s okay, Ty. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

He shakes his head, his brown hair flopping over his forehead. “You can’t promise that,” he chokes out. “The second my mom gets back, I’ll be shipped off to that boarding school your dad was talking about. He told my mom he sent you there, too, said it was the best decision he ever made.”

My throat tightens. “He said that?” I know the school he’s talking about, and no, it was anything but a good decision. The staff was strict, the teachers were mean, and my high school years were riddled with performance anxiety and never feeling like my best was enough.

“I heard them talking about it a few days before they left. I don’t want to go there, Shea. I’ve heard stories about that place. It’s a prison,” he confesses, eyes glossy as he shrugs. “And my dad won’t answer my texts or calls. He just…bailed.”

This is the first I’ve heard anything about his biological father. I know better than to ask my father for the personal details, and I don’t know Michelle well enough yet to either. And, well, this is the most I’ve heard Tyler speak in the few weeks I’ve known him.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” I give his hand a gentle squeeze when he tries to pull away, not letting him shut down on me. “My mom, she…she died when I was little. And I know it’s different, but I can tell you I certainly felt a lot of what you’re feeling now. Lost, alone, not knowing where you fit into this world.”

He nods faintly. “Yeah.”

“But I’m here,” I affirm. “And I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let them send you to that school, Ty. I mean it. I’ll do everything I can, I swear to you.”

Tyler’s arms fly out as he wraps them around me, hugging me long and hard as he continues to sniffle and cry softly. I hold him to me, rubbing his back and reassuring him a few times that everything really will be okay—and I mean every word of it.

When we finally separate, he does a sort of nod to himself. “You know, you are pretty cool for a stepsister.”

I beam at him. Gasping and dramatically holding a hand to my chest. “Cool? Me? No way!”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time, he’s smiling wide.

“I’ll tell you what, tomorrow, er, later today, let’s have a day together. Just you and me. We’ll go explore more of the town, maybe check out that mall in Billings Callie mentioned, I heard they have a Starbucks,” I sing-song.

“I dunno. Cup O’ Joe was really good, not gonna lie.”

I laugh at that, loving how this small-town seems to be growing on the both of us. “Yeah, they are pretty good, huh.”

He eyes me strangely for a second, then asks, “Were you and Rhett kissing in the elevator?”

My face heats and my mouth opens and closes like a fish for a brief, horrified I-don’t-know-how-to-answer-that moment. “Uh, well…”

“It’s cool,” he tells me with a shrug. “The guy is pretty dope, honestly.”

I smile as my chest warms at Tyler’s approval. I didn’t realize it was something I even wanted. “Yeah, he is.”

Tyler picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion, quiet for a moment. “He came, though, which was cool. My dad wouldn’t have done something like that.”

Oh, my heart. I just nod. “Yeah,” I say softly. “He did.”

Tyler clears his throat, deciding he’s met his feelings quota for the evening. “Anyway.” He scrubs the last of his face dry and settles into the sofa. “You should keep him. For the house stuff, or whatever.”

I bite back a smile. “Oh, yeah?”

He side-eyes me. “Yeah. The kissing is kinda gross, but I’ll allow it.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, tired and real. “Good to know.”

He yawns, jaw cracking wide as he reaches for the remote. “Can we watch something? I’m not tired.”

You’re exhausted, I think, and so am I. It’s nearing four in the morning and I promised him a day out in approximately six hours. “Sure,” I say, and drop onto the couch beside him.

He puts on a racecar movie, and within ten minutes, his head is heavy against my shoulder, breathing slow and even, fast asleep.