Page 177 of Severed Heart

“I heard you, Tyler. I’m—”

“What you’re doing is leaving for Paris out of Charlotte in two hours.” I stalk up to his desk and palm it. “Within an hour of landing, I will have tracked Abijah down, and you will come face to face with your birth father—today.You have my word, brother. I’ll send you his exact location when you land. He won’t be approached, but he’ll be followed until you reach him.”

This has him animating. “And how the fuck will you do that?”

“I called in a favor,” I supply. “One of a very precious few I have, and I know this won’t make up for it, but you and I have got to start communicating again. I’ve been digging tunnels that you need to be aware of for some time now. So, I’m not asking if we’re good, T, because I know that will take time, but I am asking you to stop penalizing me with clipped orders so our club doesn’t suffer. I’ll give Shelly the details.”

Turning to do that, he speaks to my retreating back.

“I don’t know how to forgive this, Tyler.”

I stop just short of the door, glancing at him over my shoulder. The brother I know personally finally making an appearance since he iced me out. “I don’t know how you will, and honestly, I don’t think I could so easily either. But I do hope you figure out a way because we’re all stinging pretty fucking badly.”

“I know my aunt,” he says as I grip the door handle and stiffen. “I know her because I took the time to discover what I could, what history she would reveal to me. I have a lot of the same education you got from her because we made peace well before I left for France ... but she didn’t reveal all to me, did she?”

I remain mute, which is confirmation enough for him, and he audibly sighs before I look back at him once more.

“All this time, I thought she mourned her ex-husband, but she suffered horribly at his hands,” he deduces before his chest bounces without sound. “Jesus Christ, do we ever really know people?”

“Only the people we care enough about to pour our efforts into, exploring inside and out, but even then, they change.”

“I have more fond memories of her than my brother.” He slowly flips a burner phone on his sleek desk, seeming lost in thought. “Or maybe he’s playing immune to any fond memory of her, but I remember well when she acted more a doting aunt than the woman who took us in.”

“Dom remembers that too, and they’ve been working on getting somewhere in recent months,” I relay, “but maybe you should let her know that someday. I know she’d be glad to hear it.”

He gives me a slow, assessing nod.

“Safe trip,” I expel, as the sting increases while I address him. “I’ll text you the minute you land ... and T?” I pause as he stares back at me, searching my person as if through a new lens. “I hope you get the answers you seek or whatever peace you’re looking for with him, brother,” I relay sincerely, identifying with his struggle to understand the nature and actions of the man that fathered him more than he could fathom. We stare off a few seconds in that bond before I turn and snap the door closed behind me.

Chapter Forty-Eight

DELPHINE

Soldier I have gained six pounds! Scans and blood are done and the Doctor says I’m clear to fuck ;)

Laughing at the nature of my text, I add a picture of myself at the top of the hillside and send both off the way my soldier taught me on my new smartphone. Forever thankful Tyler alerted me to predictive text to save myself the frustration. Studying the picture as I trek back down the hill, I recognize the most noticeable changes. Not just in my face, which has plumped and is smoothing drastically because of the magic needles, but of the life inside my smile. That now resides in my eyes.

More and more with each day, I come closer to resembling the woman I was before he left. A woman who harbors hope as well as a renewed sense of dignity. It’s the shame that fills me of how it came to be that I have yet to press past. The truth that I didn’t get to this place on my own.

My frequent therapy with Regina is, at times, so brutal that some days, it threatens to keep me in dangerous places. Craving numbing sips so badly that during that time, I fear I will break my sobriety. As Tyler predicted, and I knew well, all has not been cured since I stopped numbing. In fact, the battles have become harder. I’m not always such a happy woman. I have days I’m intolerable, especially to myself. But Regina told me there’s no storybook life for even those most well-adjusted. That it’s simply the nature of living, which I knew already as truth.

It’s the man who stares at me with love in his eyes—no matter my state—over the kitchen table every morning and across our pillows at night who makes all days worth fighting for.

My want for Tyler’s constant company no less now than it was all those years ago. My desire to make him happy taking priority over my own when I’m able. Now, instead of feeling shame for it and pushing him away, I cling to him as he does me. Finally deciding not to fault myself further for it, and possibly not by giving a rat’s ass about it if I become so co-dependenthappylike Layla.

At this point, it’s the relentless sexual torture Tyler has made very good on delivering that now threatens to drive me to an early grave. Never in my life believing I would have to work so fucking hard to get a man in my bed. The irony has laughter erupting from me as I walk back down the hillside. Musing over the fact that the man I’m so desperate for, the only one I’ve felt such desire for, is putting me through so much just to get a fucking sock on our door.

Filling my watering can at the kitchen sink, I bask in the view just outside the window. The days still warm enough for lighter dress, while the leaves continue to drastically change, enhancing the land in a multitude of colors.

Stepping onto the front porch, I begin to water the plants as delicious anticipation races through me of what tonight might bring. Our most recent session of his torturous foreplay taking over my thoughts.

“This kitchen is a dream, Soldier!” I call to where he is in our bathroom while whipping eggs with a whisk. “Even a woman most resistant to cooking could not ignore its allure! I’m determined to master it now!”

“Oh yeah?” he calls back from the bedroom as he dresses.

“Oui, I have never in my life woke and thought, ‘I’m excited to make eggs,’ but here I am, making fucking eggs for my”—I frown—“boyfriend?” I utter low, testing the word.

“You’re what?” he calls back.