ONE

Nicole Palmer

 

 

 

 

I’D LOVED TYSON Payne since the day he became a part of my family. His father, a friend of my dad’s from high school, had dropped dead from an overdose, leaving his twelve-year-old son with no one to care for him. My father was contacted as next of kin for some reason, and he and my mother gladly took Tyson in.

He came to our home with his head down, beaten and defeated by life. Dirt smudged his olive-toned skin, and his clothes were tattered and too small for his growing frame. His hair was dark as night and hung long over his face. He was scary, but when he looked up and his midnight eyes connected with mine, I saw so much more.

I saw what Tyson really was.

He was beautiful. The way a jagged icicle ready to fall and pierce your heart could be beautiful. He was tragic, with heartbreaking memories that hid behind his gaze and taunted my curious nature. To know everything about Tyson was my ultimate goal, but getting past his steel exterior proved to be fruitless.

And that was our life.

From the time he arrived when I was eleven, we grew up together; he took his place in our family without allowing himself to actually become a part of the family. He’d never said so, but he always thought of himself as the outsider. He took that role to heart—the outcast—brimming along the edges of our lives while living under the same roof and abiding by the same rules.

He never allowed my parents to do much of anything for him yet pushed to do everything he could for them. As if him being there wasn’t enough. Like he needed to prove he was worthy of my parents and their love.

He was the shadow of our family, always walking a few steps behind and darkening the halls of our modest home.

Coarse and quiet.

Hard and soft.

He was everything to me, and the more our minds and bodies matured, the more diverse he became—transforming from a scrawny boy into a large, beautiful man before my eyes.

A bad boy.

That was what the girls at Bennett High School called him, and I could see where they got the name since he was in the principal’s office at least twice a week for fighting. I’d been told a lot of his fighting had to do with me and defending my honor, but I was sure his issues with being touched also contributed.

It was strange.

At home, he was respectful and obedient—always kind and quiet—always willing to do whatever he needed to do to please my parents, but at school, he was wild and untamed—untouchable—uncontrollable and mean. He walked the hallways broody and angry—unwilling to take any drama from anyone—and people responded by giving him respect. 

By the time we were sixteen, the girls adored him and his dark, exotic looks, and the guys wanted to be him. He kept his hair longer, his black eyes hidden just beneath his overgrown strands, and had a cocky secure grin the ladies loved. I hated to admit it to myself then, but I loved everything about him too.

Usually, I was immune to such things, but he called to me without even speaking. It was the danger that squatted beneath his olive skin and the mystery of his mind. His thoughts were his own, yet he never spoke them freely. It lent to an elusive quality about him. He was my enigma and the only thing I’d ever wanted for myself. 

For seven years, I’d tried to get him to open up to me. I’d tried to know him in a way that I was sure no one else had ever known him, but he would leap away every time I got close to seeing his light, leaving me breathless at every turn and lost in the darkness he left behind. 

One thing I was sure of was that things had happened to Tyson … bad things. I’d once overheard my parents talking about some of the stories the police had told them when they dropped him at our home. The words scars and burns were mentioned.

“How could someone do something like that to such a sweet boy,” my mother had asked with tears in her voice.

“I don’t know, honey, but we’ll make it better. We’ll give him a better life,” my father had responded.

I’d sat on the bottom step just outside the living room when I was supposed to be asleep, and I’d silently cried for Tyson and all the secrets he held. I wanted to hug him—hold him to me and make it all better—but I knew it was an impossibility since Tyson refused to let people touch him.

My family learned about and adapted to his repulsion of being touched from the very beginning. My mother had once tried to hug him, and he freaked out. The older he got, the more he allowed touching, but only from my mom, and usually, it was as simple as a hand on his forearm that went along with a smile.

There was no doubt about it; Tyson had a dark past … one that made him black on the inside. He was a contrast to my family. The shadow to our light. A smudge to our clean exterior. An exotic statue of a boy sitting at our dinner table with his dark hair and black eyes. He clashed with our blue and blond genetics.

Even though he pulled away, only letting bits and pieces of himself free over the years, he always had his eyes on me. I could feel them penetrate my clothing and leave my young skin hot and flushed. Teaching me the ways of desire without even a single touch. But I never caught him staring. Whenever I’d look up at him, his eyes would be elsewhere, and his strange hold over me would be broken.

His dark eyes were a thing of dreams. They were so dark, in fact, that you could barely distinguish the iris from the pupil. His ebony hair remained untamed and unruly, falling across his perfect brow, tempting me to smooth it away. Begging me to lose my fingers in its silky strands.

But his mouth captured my attention the most. It was wide with a full set of plump lips that lived in a perpetual frown. I’d gone to bed many nights thinking what those lips against mine would feel like. And the first time I’d touched my young, untried body, I envisioned his mouth.

Tyson Payne.

I was in love with him, and I knew he had to be aware of my emotions. We’d essentially grown up together; he joined my household at the median of my hormonal growth and ushered me to the peak of womanhood. But even though he was there, acting the part of my mother and father’s extra son, he was nothing like a brother to me.

I didn’t need another brotherly figure, and I certainly didn’t want the boy I longed for to take on that role. If he did, then my feelings would be wrong. My yearning for his body and mind would be frowned upon, and I’d live with a never-ending sickness in my stomach. 

No.

I wanted so much more from Tyson.

So much more.

And I got more, in the form of a protector. Once we arrived in high school and boys started taking an interest in me, Tyson stepped forward and took control of the situation. And after a few run-ins, no one even looked at me wrong, much less said anything. Everyone was afraid of Tyson and the threat in his eyes and stocky shoulders.

Everyone but me.

I could never be afraid because somehow, I always knew he would never hurt me. At least not physically. I was untouchable to him, and he made it clear to everyone who knew me that I was off-limits.

It thrilled me in a way, even if I barely dated growing up. Knowing that Tyson cared enough to protect me was enough to get me through for many years.

Until it wasn’t enough anymore.

I always wanted more.

“You’re not going,” Tyson muttered from my doorway, his thick arms crossed over his chest.

He hadn’t always been so large and muscular, but over the years, he’d made the gym his home. Tattoos hadn’t always littered his arms, but most of his friends were men long out of high school who worked at a local tattoo shop called The Blind Tiger. 

I wasn’t surprised that he’d gravitate toward that crowd of people. Tyson loved art, and he’d always been fascinated with tattoos. His drawings and paintings littered the walls of his room.

Portraits of people I’d never seen and dirty landscapes. Jagged tattoo designs and words in unique fonts. There was even an occasional beautiful picture of something from nature. It was a mix of everything, all hand drawn or painted by him.

With the approval of my father, he picked up a tattoo gun at eighteen, and he hadn’t put it down since. It seemed like every time I saw him, he had new ink on his body. I secretly longed to see the ink that wasn’t visible, since I knew tattoos also decorated his chest and back.

I chuckled to myself before turning to face him. “I hate to tell you this, but I’m going, Ty. I’m almost packed and ready,” I said, motioning to my open suitcase.

Clothes spilled from the sides as I folded another shirt and shoved it on top.

The thought of leaving him was killing me, but Juilliard was the next step in my life. I’d known since my freshman year of high school that I’d end up in New York. My parents wanted me to follow in their footsteps and attend The College of Charleston, but I wanted to dance. Being accepted into Juilliard was a thing of dreams, and I couldn’t pass that up. Especially considering they only accepted twelve girls.

I hadn’t thought about how hard it was going to be to walk away from everything I knew—to walk away from Tyson—and leave him alone in Charleston with hordes of women climbing all over him. 

Tyson had graduated the year before, but he hadn’t gone to college, even though my parents offered to pay for everything. My dad pushed for a prestigious art school in Atlanta, but Tyson gratefully refused. Instead, he’d gone to work before he even graduated high school, filling his days after school with motor oil and exhaust working on cars at a local garage. 

A few of the guys he worked with at the garage also worked at a local tattoo parlor called The Blind Tiger, and once they got to know him, he became their apprentice of sorts. He learned his way around a tattoo gun while sweeping up their shop at night after slinging tires and changing out spark plugs after school. He’d come home exhausted, shower, and then crash. I rarely saw him once he started working, and I hated it.

The money was good at the garage, and it wasn’t long before he moved out of our house and into an apartment down the road from our neighborhood. Still, my parents had instilled enough respect in him over his six years living with us that he knew Sunday dinners were mandatory. And every time we sat down for our family dinner, he was across the table from me, touching me with his eyes and leaving me breathless.

Once he moved out, I spent the whole week anticipating that one meal. His leaving our home was hard on me, and somehow, Sunday became a day of relief. Seeing him made everything better, but going to school in New York meant no more family dinners.

No more innocent glances across the table over meatloaf and mashed potatoes. No more brushing by him in the kitchen while we cleaned the dinner dishes and catching the faint scent of his cologne mixed with motor oil. It sickened me to know how much I was going to miss a boy who didn’t seem all that concerned with seeing me much. 

“It’s not safe, Nicole. Not for a girl like you.”

Tossing my favorite shorts into the piling suitcase, I turned with my hands on my hips.

“A girl like me? What exactly makes me so different from every other girl who leaves home and goes to college?” Anger rushed over my cheeks, heating them.

I usually didn’t mind his overprotective ways, but he was suddenly making me feel like a child—like I wasn’t just a year younger than he was. He was treating me as if I wasn’t old enough to live on my own—like I wasn’t strong enough to be on my own the way he was.

I didn’t want him looking at me like young Nikki, the little girl he grew up with. I wanted him to put me on his level because without him seeing me as the woman I was blooming into, I knew I’d never get the more I so desperately longed for from Tyson.

He sighed in aggravation and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re taking it the wrong way.”

“Am I? Then would you like to elaborate? Explain to me why it’s safe for every other eighteen-year-old to go off to college, but it’s not safe for me. Do you think I’m stupid, Tyson? Do you think I don’t know how to take care of myself?”

“Jesus,” he growled, running his long fingers through his hair the way he did when he was aggravated. “That’s not what I meant, Nicole. I just don’t understand why you had to pick a school so far away when there are plenty of good ones right here in Charleston.”

“Julliard’s my dream, Ty. You know that. You’ve always known that.”

But you’re my dream, too.

The words whispered through my mind.

He nodded. “I know you love dancing, and you’re amazing at it. It’s just ...” He stopped, his fingers going through his thick hair once more. My body was warming with his words. It wasn’t often Tyson complimented anyone, much less me.

Then he spoke again, begging with his words.

“Don’t go,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him.

The room grew thick and warm. Whenever Tyson showed even the smallest amount of emotion toward me, something happened inside. Something light and happy. Something that longed for all the things I’d spent the last seven years of my life dreaming of.

Tyson cared for me. He’d never admit it, but I could feel it. It lurked just beneath his moody outer layer, but it was there. It was the same yearning I’d felt over the years.

Moving across the room toward him, I saw his body stiffen as I approached. His response to my potential touch hurt my feelings, but I tried my hardest to understand his reasons. Even if I didn’t know the details of his past, I knew it must have been pretty serious.

My arm brushed against his when I closed the door to my room with a click. There were things I needed to say, and the last thing I wanted was for my family to hear.

Tyson didn’t move, but a scarlet flush filled his dark cheeks. His black eyes glittered down at me with a ferocity that I’d never had directed my way before. Only the boys at school who attempted to date me or were hurtful to me in any way had received the expression he was showering me with right now.

“What’s the real reason you want me to stay, Tyson?” I asked, knowing he’d never give me the answer I desired.

His shoulders squared, and his muscles bunched beneath his shirt. “What do you mean? I told you, it’s not safe for you to be there alone.”

I shook my head and strands of my blond hair fell from my messy bun. “I’ll be perfectly safe there, and you know it. Dad would never send me somewhere unsafe. Plus, the school has all kinds of safety measures put into place for students. With my schedule, I won’t have any time to get into trouble anyway.”

He swallowed, his thick throat working up and down and making my mouth water to taste the dark skin above his collar.

“There are plenty of schools here,” he repeated his argument.

“I understand that, but I want Juilliard. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get accepted?” I moved closer, as if I were approaching a rabid pit bull. Then I went for it. I let my fingers brush his forearm, prompting him to pull his arm away. “I can’t let this opportunity pass, but I’ll come back to you, Tyson. I promise.”

He practically leaped away from me, his fingers once again getting lost in his dark strands.

“This has nothing to do with me.” He chuckled sarcastically as if my words were far off from their target. “I’m just saying I’d hate to see you run off to a big city and get yourself killed. It would destroy your mom and dad.”

I felt tears rush to my eyes with his hardhearted words. He cared about me, but he’d always met my feelings with resistance. I wasn’t sure what made me think it would be any different now. Maybe because I was leaving for New York. Maybe because in a way, this was our goodbye, and I knew it would be months before I had to face him again.

All I wanted was for him to admit just once that he cared about me. Just once, I wanted him to treat me as something more than Mr. and Mrs. Palmer’s daughter—a fragile being he felt the need to protect. Just once, I wanted him to treat me the way he treated other girls.

Tyson never had a girlfriend, but he did have girls. Everyone around school knew his reputation, and I hated when I heard him whispered about through the halls. I’d only seen him with a girl one time, and it was by accident at a party.

Still, seeing him pin some chick’s arms to the wall above her head while he plunged his tongue down her throat was enough for me. My heart had been broken since, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew girls wanted him. They wanted his dark looks and tall, muscular frame. They wanted him for sex, and he gave them exactly what they wanted.

It sickened me to think of him with other girls. I wondered if he let them touch him or if he pinned all their arms above their heads. It left a dark shadow on my soul every time the memory of that night at the party entered my mind, but thankfully, I’d never ran into something so heartbreaking again. Even if I knew it was happening every time he went out with his boys for the night.

It didn’t matter, though. Let him keep pretending nothing was between us. Let him act the part of the unattached playboy for a little longer. Soon, I’d be on a plane to New York, and I could grieve his loss then, knowing it would be a while before I saw him again.

Going to school and leaving it all behind was something I had to do. I couldn’t stay in Charleston and follow Tyson around like a lovesick puppy. I needed to spread my wings. Expand my mind. I needed to get away from everything that was holding me back from life and let loose. And I needed to do it without Tyson watching my every move. Without Tyson blocking every guy who looked my way.

He didn’t want to admit his feelings for me. He wanted to pretend he didn’t want me while making sure no one else could have me. That wasn’t going to be the case once I was in the Big Apple. I was going to flirt and date. I was going to live the life I’d missed while I spent my time dwelling over Tyson.

It was going to be great.

“I assure you I won’t get myself killed. Plus, Amber’s going to New York, too. We’ll stick together.”

Amber Goodwin had been my best friend since sixth grade. She was also the only person in the world who knew how deep my love for Tyson ran. Over the years, we would have sleepovers where we’d spill our hearts about the loves of our lives. Hers was different every few months, but mine was always Tyson.

We were total opposites. Where I was blond with blue eyes, Amber was a brunette with brown eyes. She was taller than I was and had an amazing extension in dance class, but while she loved dancing, her passion was science. She was the smartest person I knew, next to my dad, and I’d always known she was going to go amazing places in her life.

Growing up, we did everything together. From Barbies to boys—failed makeup attempts to new fads—we were inseparable, and the thought of ending up in two different states for college wasn’t something we ever discussed.

We’d received our acceptance letters on the same day—mine to Julliard and hers to Columbia University. After years of taking ballet together, we were moving into the world together. I wouldn’t want to share such an amazing adventure with any other person.

It worked out since Columbia and Julliard were only twenty minutes apart. We wouldn’t be alone in a big city since we’d have each other.

“Oh my God, Nicole. She’s worse off than you are,” he scoffed. “You can still change schools. There’s time. You’re staying here. Here, in this house, where I know you’ll be safe. Here, where I can—”

He bit off his words.

“Where you can what, Tyson? Where you can hound me and every guy who even looks my way? Where you can watch me like a hawk but never lay a finger on me?”

My heart was drilling into my ribs, slamming into the bone so hard it hurt.

“I have needs, too, Tyson. I’m so sick of feeling alone all the time.”

He huffed and shook his head. “You’ve never been alone.”

I noticed he didn’t mention my needs. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

We’d never spoken so freely before. Mostly because I’d always been kind of shy and quiet, but also because I had a deep fear of pushing Tyson away.

Well, I didn’t need to worry about that so much now because I was the one walking away. I was the one leaving, and even though he was never going to admit it, he hated it.

“I’ll tell you what,” I started. “I’ll stay. I’ll transfer schools and start next semester at some local university but only on one condition.”

His head popped up, his black eyes glittering with distrust. “What condition?”

I swallowed my nerves, the emotions choking me so hard I felt like I was going to gag. “Tell me how you feel about me. Tell me you want me and I’ll stay.”

His dark eyes widened, and his sharp inhale cut through the stillness around us. Everything went silent, and the sound of the clock on my wall at our side blasted through the room like it was in speaker.

I held my breath as I waited for him to say the words I’d always longed to hear, but instead, his lips crept up in a smug grin, and he started to laugh.

“This is stupid,” he said, leaning his back against the door and crossing his arms. “You know I care about you. You’re like a little sister.”

The air rushed from my lungs as if I’d been punched in the ribs. His words burned in my chest, leaving my heart feeling hollow and my stomach feeling nauseated. He’d never referred to me as his sister. Actually, it was kind of disgusting, considering how things had been between us over the years.

The secret glances.

The underlying emotions we dared not speak of.

His words were an insult to the feelings I’d spent the last seven years developing, and I wasn’t going to let him leave my room until he acknowledged his real feelings for me. Until he took back the words that had hurt me so badly.

I moved closer, and he watched me beneath long, black lashes.

I held my hand out to touch his arm, and his body went tense.

“Nicole,” he warned.

“Shhh. Let me,” I said, inching my hand even closer. “You know me, Tyson. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

His eyes connected with mine, his tense jaw making the muscles pop in his cheeks.

And then I was touching him, and he wasn’t stopping me. My fingers looked pale against his dark skin when I pressed my hand to his arm. His hard muscle jerked beneath my touch, and I heard his deep inhale.

“I’m nothing like your sister. Take it back,” I said, letting my fingers work themselves cautiously up his inked sleeve.

Courage I’d never had before raged through me. I was leaving for a while. I wouldn’t have to see his face for a bit.

What was there to lose?

“Nicole,” he growled in warning.

“Yes, Tyson?” My words were slathered in innocence.

I didn’t stop.

The pads of my fingertips roamed up his arm until my hand was resting against his chest. His breathing accelerated, his chest moving up and down with his breaths. He was so hot against my palm. Hot and hard, and I wanted to remove the fabric between his skin and mine and feel all of him.

“Don’t,” he barked, moving me to the side and stepping away from the door where he leaned.

But I wasn’t finished trying. I still had thirty minutes before I left for the airport. I still had time to change things with Tyson before I left and went months without seeing his brooding, beautiful face.

I followed him, my fingers tangling in the soft fabric of his T-shirt.

“Take it back, Tyson. Admit that I’m nothing like a sister to you. Admit that you think about me the way I think about you. That you touch yourself while you think about me the same way I touch myself and think about you.”

I felt the blush on my cheeks, but I kept pressing and pulling on his shirt, afraid that once he slipped from my room, he’d never come near me again. I’d gone too far. I’d touched him and said things I could never take back.

“I’m in love with you, Tyson. I have been since the very first moment I saw you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers going to his silky black strands once more.

“Did you hear me?” I asked desperately. “I said I…”

His large hand went over my mouth briefly before he tugged it away and rubbed his palms together. He peered down at me with an expression I’d never seen pass over his face before. He looked desperate and afraid, like he was genuinely scared of me.

I’d never seen Tyson terrified of anything.

Never.

“I never thought I’d say these things to you, but here I am.” I held my arms up. I moved closer, molding myself to his large frame in a brave move I never thought I’d use. He pulled away, pressing himself into the wall as if I had poison slathered all over my skin. 

His breath pushed from his body hard and loud as his midnight eyes moved over my face with insecurity and a host of other emotions that had no authority on such a dark and demanding creature.

“What if this were our last time together, Tyson? What if I got on that plane and never came back to you? Wouldn’t you want me to know how you really feel? Wouldn’t you want me—”

His mouth crashed against mine with desperation. Whether it was desperation for a kiss he’d longed for as long as I had or to shut me up, I wasn’t sure. But what I did know was my body melted into him the way I always knew it would, and I lost myself in his kiss.