Page 34 of Severed Heart

After stirring my coffee, I glance over and study him, sensing the fortitude building inside him as he considers a few of the books. As if one of them may hold the answer he seeks.

“Give me two weeks,” he states confidently.

I scoff. “Ten books in two weeks?”

“I read a book a day, like Dom. Sean’s the only one still flipping comics,” he jokes, and I don’t share his smile. “Two weeks should do it.”

He declares this again, his rich brown eyes burning with an intensity I’ve seen in few. He considers me now just as he did the books, but I know all too well any answer he’s in need of isn’t where his eyes now linger with curiosity.

“You don’t think I can do it,” he disputes, “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

“Arrogance and soldiering do not align well, Tyler. The necessaryconfidenceyou will need only comes witheducation.”

“But we’ve just started, so . . .” A dimple dents his jaw with his smile. “Care to make abet?”

I stiffen at his words, taking a long drink of my coffee before I reply. “I do notmakeor takebets.”

“Fair enough,” he says, pulling another of the books out of the case before I start back to my bedroom.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Two weeks,” he calls out in reminder as I roll my eyes and stalk toward my bathroom.

Sure, kid.

After dressing, I run a brush through my wet hair before I lotion my arms and hands to buy more time. Out of excuses, I pause at my bedroom door, unsure of why a teenage boy’s audience—other than Dom’s—is keeping me idle. Annoyed by that, I tear open my door only to find myself thankful when I hear the snap and close of the screen door.

Relieved, I approach the table to see every one of the books is gone, my empty suitcase remaining. He must have sensed its significance to me.

From just our short time this morning, I’ve gathered he’s highly observant and has the promising tongue of a mediator, if not a negotiator. All skills needed to play his part in Ezekiel’s design but with unreasonable ambition.

“Foolish boy,” I mumble, unsure of why it took him so long to simply collect the books and leave. It’s when I go to buckle the case that I realize the frail metal is no longer loose. Glancing toward the storm door, I catch Tyler’s eyes focused on where my finger lingers on the buckle. Arms cradling the books, I glimpse a whisper of his satisfied smile before he turns, taking the porch steps down to the driveway before jogging across the street.

Chapter Twelve

TYLER

Hit me up, cousin.

After shooting off a text to Barrett, I gather the menu from the four-top the hostess seated me at to scan it, side-eyeing my phone in hopes he’ll finally return it. Barrett’s been dodging me since the Apple Festival last month.

Before my and Dad’s confrontation last week, Carter Jennings had already done his fucking worst to desecrate all remaining relationships with everyone Jennings. Having eradicated his place in the annual family tradition at our festival stand to represent our farm on Labor Day weekend. Which only further justified the two swings I landed even as I continue to grapple with the fact it happened.

That I struck my father. Twice.

Though I wasn’t there, small-town news traveled fast that Barrett was seething mad when Dad showed up shitfaced and on a war path.

Barrett had taken it most personally since his future consists of taking over the family farm. Since that day, a large majority of the Jennings crew have been slow to answer and harder to reach by Mom and me, making us accomplices by association and blackening our wool. We’ve now been made to feel like outcasts from everyone aside from Uncle Gray and Granddad, who both check in every week or so. Though, at this point, I think it’s more out of obligation to Dad.

An obligation I’ve also ignored since I faced off with my father in that parking lot. Since then, I’ve spent every minute that I’m not sleeping outside the doors of the Jennings house. Some of those days with Dom at the library, using his place of refuge as my own while inhaling and memorizing Delphine’s curriculum.

But today, I found myself in need of a different type of distraction and decided to seek it out the same way I have the last few times we’ve hooked up.

Sensing her stare, I glance up to see Kayley eyeing me as she takes an order while I sweep her costume. Thigh-high stockings showcase her long legs, an inches-above-appropriate pleated skirt hanging from her curvy hips. Combined with the white collared button top, it’s no big mystery what look she is going for. For me, it’s a fucking summons, one I savor every inch of. My thorough sweep of her is slow and deliberate until I lift my eyes to hold her light blue return stare.

My invitation’s receipt comes by way of a subtle lift of glossy pink, lush lips. Lips I spent last summer obsessing over, stretching them with the thrust of my cock every chance Kayley gave me. Though my attention is a bit more divided now than it was last year or the year before, it’s the divide itself—a pair of silver eyes—that has me seeking this hookup and reality check.

Satisfied I’ve extended the invite and unable to think of a better way to spend Halloween than playing principal, I glance back down at the menu.