Page 3 of Every Broken Promise
“You’re back?” he asked.
My eyes refused to meet his. Instead, I looked through my phone while I spoke.
“I need my car towed to eighteen fifty-sev?—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered.
“I’ll call EZ and pay online.”
“Astrid,” he growled.
“Thanks for your help, Mr. Kane. Please hurry,” I told him, putting my phone in my cardigan pocket. I turned around, intending to make a run for it.
I never ran.
I was a firm believer that there was no need to run when you had legs capable of walking—walking was safe and practical—but I wondered if this warranted as the perfect opportunity to start.
Damn fucking small town.
I barely got three steps in when I was being pulled back. Tyler’s hand went to my shoulder, spinning me so I could face him.
“What the fuck?” I hissed.
“Yeah, what the fuck, Astrid? It’s been four years,” he spat right back as ifhehad a right to get mad at me.
“If you don’t let go of me, I’m calling the cops,” I threatened.
It took four seconds, and then I felt his grip loosen from my arm.
“Astrid, look at me.” His voice was soft—almost pleading. “Beautiful.”
My throat constricted, and I felt rage begin to course through me. He did not go there.
Asshole.
Everyone searches for the meaning of their name, and back then, mine felt like such a joke.Divinely beautifulwas the meaning of mine—I found this out back when I always felt like an ugly duckling.
For the first time in four years and three months, give or take, my eyes locked on Tyler Kane’s.
There were a thousand and one things I could tell you about Tyler. I knew that he slept on the left side of his bed. He would never admit it, but a part of him had always left the right spot open for his momma. Mrs. Kane passed away when Ty was six, and the thing he remembered the most was her putting him to sleep—she was always on the right side of his bed, and ever since, he has stayed on the left side. He hated coffee with a passion. Give him a cold-as-hell Coke, and he was good to go. He was the youngest of three siblings, all of them tight even if they gave each other shit every chance they got. Growing up, he had always known he belonged in this town. He wanted to take over his father’s business and make it grow.
Now, looking in his green eyes, I was reminded of the stupid pain I thought I had forgotten.
Out of the thousand and one things I knew of Tyler Kane, there were a thousand more I would never know.
“Listen, Tile Maker—” He snorted, but I ignored it. “—I’ve been driving for hours, and I really want to get home and crash, so take my car home.”
“We’re not playing this game,” he murmured.
“See you never,” I told him as I stepped away, intending to make it home without ever having to cross paths with him again.
That was wishful thinking on my part, really, but a girl could dream.
“Okay, we are doing this,” he mumbled.
I didn’t turn around because we weren’t doing anything. I was already a few steps ahead, not letting myself think about how badly I had just handled the situation. I would just gaslight the shit out of myself because there was no other way to do things.
You go, queen—pop off.
