Page 84 of Under Pressure

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tyler

I makethe last turn to Brandon’s house, double-checking I have the correct address before I pull in the driveway and turn the engine off. I’ve only been here once before, about two years ago when he and his wife first bought the home and had a housewarming party.

I rub at my temples, the residual effects of my hangover still lingering.

I’d gotten drunk on purpose last night. Not only to drown out Ethan’s badgering, as I’d told Mia, but because I knew if I let myself lose control, I’d call her. I’d wanted to call her. Hear her voice, no matter what it was saying. Anything is better than this polite silence I’ve been enduring.

I understood perfectly well beforehand what I would end up telling her, I just needed an excuse to say it. Needed to release everything pent up inside.

Boxing isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m there at Marty’s every night, punching the bag, working with Ethan, even training with Lawrence, solely as a reason to be there so often.

But even after confessing all those things to her, I still couldn’t face her this morning. I left as soon as I woke, my body wrapped around hers, comfortable enough in sleep to accept from her what I can’t when I’m awake. Her warmth, her comfort. Her loving, giving nature.

I don’t know what I would have done if she’d accepted everything I said at face value last night. Thank God she’d been an adult about it all. If she hadn’t been thinking clearly, acted responsible about it all… what would have happened?

“Tyler,” Brandon exclaims happily as he answers the door of his house. “I actually get to see you this often? What’s going on?”

I take the joke in stride, biting back the sarcastic comment that initially arises. He’s got a fair point. I usually avoid weekend dinners at my parents’ house if I can help it, choosing to stop by on weeknights when he and Dylan are sure not to be there.

I just hate being reminded of how I ruined their childhoods, breaking up the family like that.

But they both seemed pleased to see me at Mom’s birthday party. Brandon even went so far as to follow up with a text actually inviting me over to his house for dinner, like he said he would. I’d assumed it’d been an empty promise.

And when I received it, all I could think of was Mia’s question during the car ride home from the party.Why would they go out of their way to include you?I used to assume it was out of obligation.

But maybe not. So I’d accepted.

“Hi, Tyler,” Brandon’s wife, Rochelle, greets me as I walk into the living room. She’s already settled on the couch, a blanket over her lap.

“You want a beer?” he asks me. “Or wine?”

“Oh, can you get me a glass—” Rochelle asks, then stops herself, pausing mid-sentence. “I mean, never mind.” She makes an absentminded gesture rubbing her hand over her stomach and I glance sharply at Brandon, who notices it too, his eyes shining.

“Is she— Are you?” I stutter, unable to actually form the question.

He nods, excitement bursting from him. “We found out earlier this week.”

Rochelle looks between us in dismay. “Oh, shit. Did I spoil the surprise?” Her eyes widen and she abruptly covers her mouth. “Oh, no, I’m not supposed to curse. Can the baby hear cursing yet?”

“Relax,” he says, sitting down next to her, putting an arm over her shoulders. “The baby’s like the size of a bean right now. It doesn’t understand what you’re saying. It probably doesn’t even have ears yet,” he laughs.

She puts her hands to her cheeks, slumping down in her seat. “I’m going to mess this baby up before it’s even born.”

Rochelle’s the most put-together person I’ve ever met. If she’s worried about messing up a child, there’s no hope for the rest of the population.

“You’ll be great,” Brandon assures her. “We’ll have Uncle Tyler here to help out too.” He winks at me.

I stumble toward the other side of the couch, my legs suddenly weak. Oh, God. I’m going to be an uncle? Rochelle pats my back, calmer now that someone else is freaking out.

Brandon laughs at me as I blow out a long breath, sticking my head in between my knees. “Ty, you’ve done great with Riley. You’ll kill at the uncle gig too.”

I glance over at him, pausing when I realize he’s right. But I’ve barely been a brother to him. Why would he want me to be an uncle to his child?

“Can you hand me the album off the bookcase?” she asks, which Brandon dutifully gets up to retrieve for her. “I want to show Tyler.”

“We should do one of those weird mashups of our faces to see what the baby will look like,” he says as he hands it to her.

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