Page 68 of Catching Feelings

If even playboy Ryan can do that…

Until a few days ago, I would have said in no uncertain terms that Tyler was the best guy I knew. And it takes no small amount of courage to invite me to talk the way he has. When his ex never trusted his side of the story, can I really let him believe I wouldn’t even hear him out?

I slam my journal shut. I’m not getting anything done until I settle things with him.

I step through the door of the Lakeside an hour before closing, the bell over the door jingling as I enter. Lindsey waves, face lighting up. “Sabrina, hey! Haven’t seen you in a minute!”

I can feel Tyler’s eyes on me from the counter, where he’s pouring coffee for a couple sitting at the end. “Oh crap!” His voice cuts through the diner as he sloshes coffee onto the counter. “Sorry, let me clean that up…”

I force myself to smile back at Lindsey, ignoring the guy hastily mopping up a spill while his eyes stay fixed on me. “It’s been a busy start to the year.”

“Mm-hmm.” Her smirk is knowing as she hands me a menu. “Want to sit at the counter?”

“Sure.” I shrug, doing my best to play it off all casual, but I know I’m not fooling anyone. I’m dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, but I put on extra lip gloss and wore my favorite perfume, and, oh God, I’m nervous. Guys don’t make me nervous! I force myself to take a deep breath as I slide onto an empty stool. Be cool, Sabrina. You’re Sabrina.

But Tyler heads my way immediately, and my stomach does a belly flop. Very much the opposite of cool.

“You came,” he says, dark eyes holding mine. They’re so earnest and relieved that all I can do is wish I’d come sooner.

“Yeah.” I swallow hard, trying to get my breathing under control. “Are you busy…?”

He starts to shake his head. But then someone calls “Tyler!” from the kitchen, and he grimaces.

“I guess I am,” he says with a wince, backing away. “I’ll be right back.” He points at me as if to say, Don’t go anywhere, and I fold my hands primly on the counter. Just like last time.

He breaks into a grin before turning the corner.

The place is nearly as empty as it was for our date, though nothing like the romantic, deserted diner he’d engineered for us last time. A few groups murmur in the booths by the windows, and the couple at the end of the counter finishes their decaf before heading to the register to pay.

There’s a gentle clink as Tyler sets a strawberry milkshake in front of me.

I stare at it for a moment, stupidly overcome with emotion. All the memories of our date come rushing back, and I have to blink hard. I really, really want things to be okay between us again. We’ve never been easy on paper, but we’ve always been easy in person. As much as I wanted to avoid conflict this year, Tyler has been worth every bit.

I sip on my shake, watching him finish busing his tables, until it’s just me and an older couple eating chili by the window. Tyler checks on them one more time, and then he hurries back to the counter.

“Sorry to make you wait.” He folds his forearms on the counter and bends forward, toward me. I fight to keep my eyes on his. Not drifting toward his lips. “But I should be good to talk for a while now.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath. It’s now or never, Sabrina. Maybe getting the whole truth out there can be good sometimes, even if it ends in a fight. There’s no way to know unless you try. “Will you please tell me the whole story, from your side?” I pause, watching the way his face relaxes at my words. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it sooner, but I want to hear it now.”

“It’s okay,” Tyler says in one relieved rush, biting his lip. He looks over his shoulder for a moment, as if centering himself, before he turns back to me. “I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I guess because it’s kind of messy. I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

I wince. “Well, yeah, I did say a thing or two about wanting a drama-free senior year.” I lean forward, fighting the urge to touch his arm. “But you’ve shown me who you are since the first day I met you. You’ve been so generous, and the kind of listener who helped me talk about all sorts of things I didn’t think I could share, and really brave, to start all over in a new town and give us so much without expecting anything back—” I clear my throat. “So. If we need to get through a little messy, maybe that’s not so bad. Maybe it’s how we get to all that good stuff.” Tyler’s eyes are wide, drinking in every detail of my face. I nod decisively. “What I’m trying to say is: I’m listening.”

Tyler braces his hands against the counter as if to steady himself. He blinks hard, then gives me a tiny nod back. “Okay. So last spring, there was this argument between John and Dylan, two guys on the Brownsville team. I’ve known Dylan all my life. He’s a vegetarian. Totally harmless.”

The pit in my belly tells me this isn’t heading anywhere good. “And John? Not so harmless?”

Tyler frowns. “No. Problem with the off-season is that guys have time to get into trouble. John went out with Dylan’s sister—which is already dangerous territory, you gotta be careful with that shit—but then when we were hanging out one night, he made a… comment about it.”

My stomach turns. “What kind of comment?”

Tyler shakes his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I can’t repeat it. But just know that whatever you’re imagining, it was worse.” His fingers flex on the counter, as if he’s white-knuckling his way through that moment all over again. “So, I don’t blame Dylan for getting physical. He shoved John—which didn’t even leave a mark, and any guy with sense would’ve realized, ‘Okay, I overstepped. Time to apologize and walk away.’ ”

I grimace. “I’m not gathering that John’s a guy with sense.”

Tyler’s face darkens, and all I can hear is the clinking of forks and the washing of dishes in the back as I hold my breath.

“Not so much. He took a swing at Dylan. Missed, but it sure didn’t help the situation. Dylan really went after him then—tried to tackle him—and that’s when I got involved.” He takes a deep breath and leans toward me. I can tell he’s forcing himself to tell me what happens next. Probably reliving the moments when he did the same before and no one believed him. “Sabrina, my whole job on the team is protecting my guys. It’s instinct to put myself between them and a hit from the other side. When John went for Dylan—and after everything he said about his sister—well, he suddenly looked a lot like the other team.” He frowns. “Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved. But I couldn’t help it.”