Page 94 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
The distraction is almost welcome after staring at tissue inflammation pathways for so long. "What's going on?"
He holds up a finger to silence me, and I watch as his expression shifts to surprise. "Why do you have my number, and why are you calling me at 9 PM on a Thursday?"
Sylas rolls his eyes dramatically and mouths "frat boys" to me.
"I'm not in your frat," he says dryly, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the coffee table between us.
A booming voice fills the room. "It's about Tyler and Ethan. We need your expertise."
My heart stops at the mention of Tyler's name. Sylas's eyes flick to me as he asks, "Is Ethan okay?"
"He's fine," Tyler's voice responds, making my stomach drop. "This is Tyler.”
Shaking my head frantically at Sylas, I mouth "hang up," but he ignores me.
"Oh," Sylas's tone noticeably cooling as he watches my reaction. "What do you want?"
"Your advice," Tyler says, his voice making my chest ache with how much I've missed him. "Ethan's pulling away, and I don't know how to fix it."
My eyesclose and I'm unable to look at Sylas's questioning gaze.
"Maybe there's nothing to fix," Sylas suggests, raising an eyebrow at me. "Maybe he realized?—"
"It's not that," Gavin interrupts. "He wants to be with Tyler. He said so. But he's scared, and something else is going on that he won't talk about."
My head snaps up in alarm. How does Gavin know there's something else? Sylas looks as surprised as I feel.
"What makes you think I know what's going on?" Sylas asks, watching me carefully.
"Because you're his best friend," Tyler says. "And I'm worried about him. Not just because of us, but because he seems... off. Even when we text, it's like he's only half there."
Sinking deeper into the couch, guilt washes over me. Sylas gives me a look that clearly says, "he's right, you know."
"I'm on speaker," Sylas says suddenly. "Who else is there?"
"Just some fraternity brothers," Drew's voice replies. "We're trying to help Tyler figure this out."
"A frat-boy relationship council," Sylas says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though he winks at me. "Fascinating."
"Look," Tyler says, sounding impatient, "if you don't want to help, just say so."
"I didn't say that." Sylas sighs, never taking his eyes off me. "It's not my place to tell you what's going on with Ethan. That's for him to share if he wants to."
I mouth "thank you" at him, relieved.
"But something is going on," Tyler presses.
Sylas holds my gaze, silently asking permission. I shake my head, but he answers anyway. "Yes. But it's not what you think. It's not about your mother or Cher, though they didn't help."
Hands make excellent shields against mortification, so mine automatically move to cover my face.
"Then what is it? How can I help him if I don't know what's wrong?"
"That's the problem, isn't it?" Sylas suddenly sounds tired. "Ethan doesn't want you to 'help.' He wants to handle it himself."
"Handle what?"
"Ask him," Sylas says firmly, pointing at me. "And don't let him off the hook when he says it's nothing. Make him talk to you."
