Page 27 of Be With Me

Chapter 9

Tyler

Iwoke up in jerks, like something had a hold of my ankle and was trying to yank me back down into the abyss. Struggling to free myself, I would rip it free and manage to swim up a few feet, only to be jerked down again.

In the end, I won the battle, waking up the rest of the way all at once in a wicked rush, my heart pounding and my legs and arms shaking with fatigue like I’d just escaped death itself. I blinked hard, and my vision gradually cleared.

I was on a plush red couch wearing a white blanket that covered everything but my feet. Sweat stuck my shirt to my spine and trickled down my temples into my hair, and when I shoved off the blanket and swung my legs around to sit up I could see why. I was wearing sweatpants along with a T-shirt instead of sleeping in my boxer briefs like I normally did. Also, there was a black and white cat curled up on my stomach. Or, at least, it had been. He toppled to my lap when I sat up, then jumped down to the floor. Giving me a glare for tossing him off his bed in such a reckless manner, he sauntered off to the kitchen to find his breakfast dish.

My heart stuttered in my chest, then picked up again, beating out a furious rhythm. I didn’t remember putting these clothes on. I didn’t remember even owning these clothes.

Leaning forward, I stuck my head between my knees and focused on the here and now, my breaths even and deep until I could form a coherent thought again. I was in a large apartment with an open concept floor plan. Colorful tapestries covered the walls, and other than the red couch, the rest of the furniture was a mishmash of styles and colors, including the four completely different kitchen chairs surrounding the small round table separating the kitchen and the living room, where I had apparently been napping.

If the cat hadn’t been enough to tip me off, the bohemian décor would’ve told me where I was. I was in Willow’s apartment. I was safe. And I didn’t stink like alcohol.

Relief washed over me. It was hard to admit even to myself, but I’d really been thinking I was some kind of closet alcoholic. So secret, I didn’t even know it myself until I woke up from the latest binge.

The cat came back over to me and rubbed against my legs, loud purrs rumbling from his little body. Obviously, I’d been forgiven for waking him so abruptly. “Good morning to you, too, Sir Elton,” I told him as I rubbed his cheeks. I didn’t blame him for being grouchy. I was grouchy, too, when I had to wake up before I was ready.

My sister was a huge fan of Sir Elton John. Always had been, as far back as I could remember. When we were kids, she’d had a turtle named Rocket Man, and a doll she’d called Levon. Levon was a girl, but that didn’t seem to faze Willow.

I think the real Elton would have approved, in any case.

Her cat, which she’d adopted from a shelter, had been chosen out of all the others because he was “a distinguished gentlemen who could pull off a tuxedo but was still a playful fellow who enjoyed wearing costumes” just like her favorite entertainer. Of course, no other name would do for him.

Sir Elton flicked his white-tipped tail, gave me one last degrading look, and disappeared around the side of the cabinets. A second later I heard his tags clinking on his food dish as he ate.

“Oh! You’re up!”

Willow came out of her room, the only bedroom in the place. She was the picture of conservative office wear in tan slacks, a white blouse, and low, black heels. Her face was fresh looking and her hair was tamed into loose waves that fell just past her shoulders. But her expression was tense as she walked slowly into the room. “Tyler?”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Willow?”

She just stared at me, like she expected me to jump up and start trashing the place or something.

My head hurt and my chest was beginning to ache. I wasn’t in the mood for her games. “What the fuck? Why are you being so weird?”

Her thin shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. “Sorry.” She checked the watch on her wrist. “You want some coffee?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s 7:25,” she called over her shoulder as she went to the kitchen.

“Why am I here?” I managed to keep my tone pretty neutral, but I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “I don’t remember coming over.” I tried to laugh it off. “Maybe I need more sleep.”

She didn’t answer me. I heard the coffee machine brewing, and then the door to the fridge open and close. A few seconds later, she came back in with two mugs. She handed one to me, then sat down in the chair nearest me.

“I don’t remember coming here,” I repeated, and there was no humor in my voice this time. I wrapped both hands around the cup and let the warmth seep into me, trying to fight the chill that had settled into my bones. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. “Willow, what am I doing here?”

Her voice was just as quiet as mine. “You’ve been sleeping here, Ty.”

“Why aren’t I sleeping at my own place?” My place. Shit. I set the mug down on the end table beside me. “I have to go check on Snickers.”

Willow grabbed my arm with surprising strength before I could stand up. “He’s fine. I hired that dog sitter you like. The one you use when you go out of town. And don’t worry,” she continued when I gave her a surprised look. “I’ll pay for him.”

I sat back down. Hard. This time, I couldn’t take my eyes from my sister’s face. I tried to ask what I wanted to ask, but nothing came out. I stopped, swallowed, closed my eyes, opened them, and tried again. “How long have I been here?”

She gave me that big sister look. The one she always gives me when she wants to fix the bad stuff and can’t.

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