It’s late when I pry my eyes open. Since we didn’t go to bed until the early hours of the morning, I’m not surprised to see it’s already eleven thirty.
Immediately I think of River and want to check on her since she wasn’t feeling well last night. I hate it when babies are sick.
I leave Tiller sleeping on his stomach, his arms tucked underneath his head, snoring, and make my way downstairs. I can hear voices in the distance that sound similar to Scarlet. It’s when I reach the bottom of the stairs and get a peek into the living room where River is standing at the coffee table, my heart drops to my feet.
“River, no!” I scream, hoping she drops what’s in her hand. A razor blade. In front of her, lines of cocaine.
River drops the blade on the table. It makes a clinging sound, and she instantly bursts into tears.
Rushing to her side, I stumble over people sleeping on the ground and lunge at her. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m so sorry! You’re okay. I just. . . you can’t play with that. It’s sharp.”
The door closes, and Scarlet finally appears, holding a gallon of milk. She looks to me, then River with panic. “What’s going on?”
“Where were you?” I shout, picking River up off the floor. I look at her face, hoping she doesn’t have any cuts or worse, cocaine on her. She had been tracing the white substance on the table, but surely she didn’t taste it, right?
Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid? My family already wants to take her away from me, and now this. Now they can because I’m a horrible person for allowing this to happen, just so I could be alone with Tiller.
“I was getting milk for the French toast,” Scarlet says, rushing to our side. “What’s wrong?”
“She was holding a razor blade and drawing faces in cocaine. Who are all these people here?”
Scarlet looks at the bodies on the floor, most passed out from last night’s party. “I don’t know. We. . . uh. . . I was just making breakfast. I only left her for a second to get milk out of the fridge in the garage.”
Holding River’s crying face to my chest, I rub her back. “I should have known. I should have never left her.”
“Don’t freak out.” Rubbing my shoulder, Scarlet tries to calm me down. “Everything’s fine.”
“How can everything be fine, Scarlet? She was just playing with cocaine. What if she ingested some?”
We both look at River as I set her on the counter. She doesn’t look high, but how’s that going to look if I call poison control and be like, “Yeah, so my kid might have ingested cocaine. Any suggestions?”
Jail. I’m looking at a life sentence in prison. I just know it.
Scarlet grabs my face between her hands. “Stop it. We’ll figure this out. Camden once accidentally sniffed cocaine and was totally fine. Then puked for two days straight. If we can deal with that, we can handle this.”
“What?” I panic, my heart beating a million miles an hour. “Holy shit. I have to get out of here. I can’t be here anymore.”
“I’ll watch her. Go upstairs and get your stuff and talk to Tiller.”
Hesitation roots me in place. I don’t want to leave her. I shouldn’t let her out of my sight, but I don’t want her present for what I’m going to need to say to Tiller.
I swallow over the bile rising up. “Please watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Scarlet nods, eyes wide. “I promise I won’t.”
Running upstairs, my heart threatens to explode in panic. How did I let this happen? How could I have been so stupid as to believe this could work so effortlessly?
Opening Tiller’s door, I slam it shut again. “I’m so fucked.”
Tiller startles awake like someone smacked him. I’m about to so it’s a good thing he’s up. “What?
“I’m such a fool,” I say, shoving clothes into my bag and trying to find all my stuff scattered over his floor.
“What’s going on?”
I pace the room. I don’t answer. I cry, because it’s the only thing I can think to do. The rush of everything hits me in the chest, and I gasp. I could lose River over this. I could. I might. No. No, I won’t allow it. I will fight for her even if it means giving up Tiller. For River, I have to make that choice. I can’t put her in danger like that ever again.
Tiller stands, yanking on a pair of shorts and coming to stand next to me. He tries to stop me, make me look at him, but I can’t, won’t. “Calm down and tell me what happened.”
After a minute, he physically stops me, grabbing my shoulders and yanking me to stand in front of him. I drop the bag I’m holding on his feet.
He cringes, but stares at me. “What’s going on?”
It takes me a minute to speak, but when I do, the words come out in a rush. “My niece. . . your daughter was just playing with cocaine on the table downstairs.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“I can’t believe you are so irresponsible,” I tell him, wiggling from his grasp.
He stands there, his chest rising and falling with his every breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “They’re not my drugs!” The muscles in his jaw tick. “I haven’t done a goddamn line in two months.” And I believe him, but it doesn’t make this any better.
Our chests almost touch. Tiller tips his head down to look at me, the turmoil in his eyes lighting my soul on fire. “I know they’re not yours, but I can’t believe we were this irresponsible. If my parents find out, if Alexandra. . ..” A shiver of guilt runs through me at the thought. “I could lose her forever, Tiller. You could lose her forever. I can’t believe I ever thought this could work.”
Our eyes collide, the fires of hell in his, cold winter in mine. He’s looking at me without a hint of realization as to what this means. I swallow back the pain.
My heart stumbles, trips over what I can’t say.
I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. He’s silent, staring back at me with troubled eyes.
He’s waiting for something, but I don’t think he knows what.
And then he snaps, offended, scowling at me. “Why are you fucking blaming me for this shit though?”
“This is your life,” I point out. “This is who you are. I was so stupid to believe I could actually bring a kid into your lifestyle and it be okay. I can’t believe I was so irresponsible to think otherwise.”
It looks like he’s about to walk away, but before he does, he pushes me back against the wall, both his arms above my head and pinning me in his captivity. “Really? This is hard to believe?”
I let out a shriek of surprise, blinking rapidly.
“Are you kidding me? There’s a reason she wasn’t in my life. I never said I was anyone else. I didn’t ask for this. There’s a reason I haven’t seen her until you brought her here. I didn’t ask to be her dad. I fucked your sister.” Heat rolls off his body, the words suffocating. “That’s all. What did you think was going to happen? You’d knock on the door, and we’d be one big fucking family?” His tone is lazy and low, and sorta psychotic, just like him. “You should leave. We’ll just call this a moment of weakness, and you let the dumb asshole in for one moment. I’m not stupid enough to believe this meant anything. Get the fuck out. I’m tired of this bullshit.”
I stand there, frozen. He’s never talked to me this way.
“I’m curious, Amberly, what did you think was going to happen hanging out here?” he presses. “Did you really think she’d be okay and wouldn’t at some point find trouble?” His expression is hard. There’s no understanding and certainly no compassion. He’s destroying, trying to piss me off.
“I knew this wasn’t a place for her. I did. That’s why I’m leaving now before something else happens and I lose her forever.”
His jaw tightens, his scowl mean. Guys like Tiller, they don’t want to remember the things that make them feel. They want to destroy them. “Just fucking face it, Amberly. You were never going to give me a chance.”
“I did give you a chance, Tiller. You’re the one destroying it.”
“How am I destroying it?” There’s an undertone of desperation in his voice and the way it stalls on the word. “You’re the one ending it.”
I don’t say anything, and his eyebrows arch a little, as if he’s waiting for me to say something.
When I don’t, his face loses all the emotion he once had. “For the record, Amberly, the drugs weren’t mine,” he reminds me, again.
I tell myself to walk away from him right then before we say something we shouldn’t, or maybe we already have. Tears well up in my eyes. I don’t have a response.
“To you, and every other girl, I’m that guy. I’m the one they can forget their lives with and not have to think about how I might feel about it. Your sister used me. So did you. I’m not even sure you think of me as a person. I’m just. . . the mysterious fuck you can have when you want and then when you’re done, who fuckin’ cares, right?” he says, so matter-of-factly, sadness lurking in his eyes.
“It’s probably best for you, then. That we leave.”
What am I saying? I’m not even making any sense.
His expression offers no apologies.
When I don’t say anything more, his anger rages.
Taking the edge of his nightstand, he flips it over. “What’s best for me?” he shoots back. “Me?” He points his finger at his heaving chest. “Why don’t you go ahead and let me decide what’s fucking best for me. Never bringing her here in the first fuckin’ place would have a been a good start.” I close my eyes, tears releasing down my heated cheeks, thinking he’s done. No. He’s far from that. “Goddamn it, Amberly! I was fine. I was perfectly fine with this life and now you. . . her. . . why? Why did you have to fucking bring her here? Why did you have to go and. . . FUCK!” he screams in my face and I flinch back.
“Tiller, I didn’t—”
His glare silences me. “Yes, you did. You did this on purpose. Don’t even try to deny it now.” His lips curve at the corners, but his smile definitely isn’t one of amusement.
I shake my head, trying to deny it with actions.
“You knew this wouldn’t last.” Lowering his mouth to my ear, his harshness sends a shiver through my body. “You make me crazy. You annoy me. I can’t fucking stand it.” Drawing back, he stares, waiting for me to say something, and when I don’t, he steps back. My head snaps up, horrified by his words as my heart sinks. I gasp, feeling the blood rush to my heart with each word. I can’t deny his words sting deeply inside of me.
“Fuck you, Tiller.” I’ve never ever said words like this to him, to anyone, but I mean them.
“Honey, you already did.” His hand comes up, running over his jaw, his eyes narrowing at the door over my shoulder. He’s quiet, and part of me wonders what he’ll say next to further hurt me. What he does, only makes me angrier. “And this part, this is how it’s supposed to go.” He winks, and oh, God, does it piss me off. He gives me a more condescending smirk. “I only wanted your virgin pussy.” He shrugs and then turns away from me. “I got what I wanted so why don’t you leave?”
For some reason, his words, “I’m never not thinking of you,” comes to mind. Is he thinking of me now as he rips my heart out?
Does your heart ache like mine? Are you pissed at him? Do you believe he means what he’s saying? I’m not sure I do. He’s just trying to hurt me. This is what he does. Remember when I said he’s destructive? This is what I’m talking about.
He’s wrong. He knows it, too. God, does he know it. I can see it. The way he glares to cover it up. He has pride, and he’s protecting it. I know that much. Bitter and cold, his eyes never meet mine again.
Tiller Sawyer doesn’t burn bridges. He lights them on fire and pisses on the flames.