"Love, Trust, and Secrets"

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tyler opened his eyes. The bright light sent sharp streaks of pain through his head. He closed them again, but not before noticing he didn’t recognize the shades allowing in the sunlight. That led to the realization the mattress underneath him held different lumps than he’d come to know and avoid for the past year of his life. The sound of an occupied shower was another clue he wasn’t in Kansas anymore, or rather in his case, in the dingy little shoebox he called home. “Fuck.” He needed to leave before the now-singing guy in the shower came out.

From the pounding in his head and his sore c**k, he could tell he’d had a rough night.

He climbed out of bed and took inventory of the room. Not too bad. On the small side. Or it could be that the huge bed took up more than ninety percent of the wall-to-wall space and made it look that way. But Tyler wasn’t judging. The single room looked like a palace compared to where he lived.

One problem he did notice with the room was his clothes weren’t in it. Well, his pants were, but nothing else—no socks, underwear, or shirt. s**t. The song was coming to an end, and he had a feeling, the shower along with it.

“Dammit.” He needed to leave, and fast. He was never good with the morning after, and now, not remembering anything that happened, he’d be worse.

Fine with going commando, he hopped into his pants and headed into the hall. What he assumed was the crooner’s T-shirt lay scrunched up on the floor. It’d have to do. He put it on, noticing the smell saturating it made his d**k twitch. “That’ll be all out of you. You got us into this mess.”

At the front door, he found his shoes. Getting outside and out of sight was his first priority. Putting on his shoes, sockless, would be two or three, following figuring out where the hell he was.

Once outside, he slipped on his shoes, hidden behind the cover of the privacy hedges surrounding the neighbor’s yard. With his feet ready, he glanced around, trying to decide which way to head. He let out a breath when he realized he was on a cul-de-sac with only one way to go. He ran, continuing until he reached the end of the block. When he made it to the corner, he stopped to take a breath and get his bearings. As if the North Star guided his journey, he spotted a red and green light in the distance. It called to him like an old friend. Seeing the Seven-Eleven convenience store, and knowing it held his salvation—a telephone—allowed Tyler to relax for the first time since waking up.

As he entered the store, he checked his pockets, grateful to find his money still there. He grabbed a bottle of water, then strode to the register. While he paid, he asked the clerk if he could borrow a phone to call a cab.

He climbed into the taxi fifteen minutes later.

Then after that, it was wham-bam, have the cabby circle the city, a brisk walk for twenty blocks, then a relaxing jog up five avenues and he was home sweet home. He could never be too careful.

Tyler’s muscles loosened, and his brain relaxed the second he spotted the old, beaten-down Victorian. He climbed to the attic where his apartment was, thankful none of the other tenants were out and about, forcing him to make small talk. His adventure home made him sweaty, and the only thing he wanted was a shower. He was so desperate, the fact the water would feel like ice didn’t even hamper his excitement. The cool water might even be enough to motivate him to call work and see if they needed him.

He stayed in the shower as long as he could stand it. The chilly water invigorated him and made him feel halfway human. After he finished, he got dressed, stepped to his bed, moved the covers, and picked up the phone he’d forgotten at home the night before.

He was about to type in his work number when his finger stopped midway to the screen. A message blared in his face. He’d missed five calls. “What the f**k?” He didn’t even know five people who he could have missed.

When he saw they were all from work, his heart stopped. Why would they’ve called five times? Unless something’s wrong. Very wrong. But that couldn’t be. He’d called the restaurant the night before. He’d needed to get out and had hoped he could make a little money while working off some of the nervous energy flowing through him.

Tyler listened to the first, second, and third messages. Confused, he played the fourth and fifth. They didn’t make sense. His boss had called him twice on one day and three times on another, trying to get him to come into work. It would’ve been a great gag if his boss had a funny bone, or if he ever laughed. Something was messed up.

Tyler turned on his little transistor radio to find out what day it was. The phone had to be wrong and his boss hallucinating. Tyler was sure the news station would know. The answer came at the same time Tyler’s legs gave out, and he fell on his ass.

“How the f**k did I lose two days?” Holding his knees bent with his head folded down on them, Tyler rocked his body. “What the hell? If they’d found me, I wouldn’t be here.” What could have happened? Regardless of how many times he asked the question, he didn’t have the answer. When he finally got it, he knew what he had to do. Where he had to go.

But first, he needed to check if he still had a job. He paced the room as he dialed. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself as he waited for his boss to answer. Both calls transferred to voice mail. He left a message, praying he’d hear back and the news was positive.

How could he have f****d up so badly? It was time for him to find out.

He picked up the cab closer than he should have, but right then, speed preempted stealth. He paid little attention to his surroundings, his focus on getting to where he needed to be.

At his destination, he hopped out, stomped up the path, and rang the bell. He bounced on his toes as he waited.

The door opened, a man smiled, and Tyler punched him in the face.

Tyler got in two hits before he realized the other man wasn’t fighting back. Instead, the guy stood there, taking what Tyler gave. Then without warning, the guy grabbed him, holding him in a tight bear hug.

“Let me go, you motherfucker,” Tyler shouted. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“Calm down. Not going to let you go until you stop trying to hit me. And my name is Jarod, in case you forgot.”

Tyler kicked and tried to free his arms. “I don’t give a s**t who you are. L-let me go.” he stuttered, his breathing too heavy.

Jarod tightened his grip. “Calm down. Stop swinging, and we can talk.”

Tyler stopped moving, but his body remained tense.

Jarod still held him tight. “Relax.”

“f**k you, relax? I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Then just stop swinging at me, and we can go in the house and talk.” Jarod’s voice was too relaxed for the interaction.

It caused Tyler to become more incensed. “f**k that. I’m not coming in your house. Why? So you can get me drunk again?” Tyler continued to try to break out of the man’s hold. One hand pulled loose, and he used it to hit the guy in the face again.

“Let’s call the police,” Jarod yelled.

Barely hearing the words over the pounding in his ears, Tyler froze. If Jarod hadn’t been holding Tyler, he would have fallen.

Tyler’s anger had brought him there, but he hadn’t thought the visit through. The last thing Tyler wanted to do was involve the police. If they showed up, he’d need to be gone before they recognized him.

“I’ll let go of you if you promise not to hit me again.” Jarod slowly released his grip.

Tyler took a step back, barely noticing when he tripped on the path. “Just don’t call the cops,” he begged, finding it hard to breathe. “Please don’t call them.”

Jarod relaxed his stance, making himself seem less imposing. “Ty, I promise I won’t call them,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Just come in. Please. So we can talk about what happened.”

Tyler stood unmoving, trying to decide whether he should stay or run. Was it safe to go back in the house? He was somewhat surprised he didn’t get the feeling Jarod was dangerous or that he would try something. No. Looking Jarod in his eyes, Tyler felt the guy’s sincerity. But Tyler had trouble accepting that, as those feelings were at complete odds with him thinking Jarod had kept him drunk and out of it for two days.

Tyler’s mind made up, he stepped into the house. When the front door closed behind him, he couldn’t stop the shudder that raced through his body. Mad again, this time at being afraid, Tyler held his breath and tried to get his brain and body to calm down. Jarod moved past him, leading him through the hall as Tyler looked around, only remembering the spots he’d seen earlier that morning.

The few seconds it took them to reach the kitchen were enough for Tyler to get a grip on his emotions. He stepped to the table, thinking it was plenty of space for the two of them to distance themselves. He sat, then immediately stood up again. His nervous energy wouldn’t allow him to stop moving.

Jarod must have understood. He sat, not commenting. “You want a drink?”

“I think a drink is the last thing I need. Besides, this isn’t a social call.” Tyler immediately regretted the anger in his tone. It’d be too easy for this conversation to end badly and Jarod to call the police like he’d first suggested. A lead weight settled at the bottom of Tyler’s stomach, and a sour taste filled his mouth.

“I realize that. Sorry.” Jarod again sounded sincere.

“Me, too. Just tell me what the hell we did for two days. How much did we drink?” Again, Tyler was pissed at himself. One second he’d apologized, then the next he’d allow his anger to control him.

“Drink? Not sure what you’re talking about.” Jarod actually sounded confused.

“I was pretty wasted to lose two days.”

“You weren’t drinking. We weren’t drinking.” Jarod shook his head. “That’s not what happened.”

“Never mind.” Tyler didn’t want to waste any more time or listen to Jarod’s bullshit. Tyler moved to leave, but Jarod stood and blocked the way.

“You can’t leave until we talk.”

“f**k you, I can’t. Who the hell do you think you are?” Tyler was about to push his way past the other man or leave through the French doors on the other side of the room, anything to get away from this guy.

Surprisingly, Jarod moved out of the way without Tyler having to do either. But Jarod’s pleading expression stopped Tyler from leaving.

“Someone drugged you.”

Tyler’s legs went weak, and he fell against the wall, using it and the adjacent cabinet to hold himself up. All of the events of the past year and a half raced through his mind. How could his cousin Stella have found him? And how had he escaped?

Jarod called Tyler’s name and snapped him from his thoughts.

“Sit and I’ll tell you what happened.” Jarod moved back to the other side of the table.

“I can’t.” Adrenaline rushed through Tyler’s body. He fought to keep control.

Instead of sitting down, Jarod held onto the chair. “Then just listen.”

Jarod filled in some of the blanks as Tyler paced the room, trying to get his mind to wrap around the story. Having been drugged had never entered Tyler’s mind, but he knew instantly Jarod was telling the truth. Tyler remembered the guy from the pizza parlor. It was once he’d arrived at the bar with him where everything turned fuzzy. But that was understandable. It even made sense, if the guy had drugged him.

Tyler’s heartbeat accelerated, and his stomach rolled, nausea washing over him. He ran to the French doors and pulled one open, making it outside in time to hurl. With his stomach empty, all that’d come out had been bile.

Jarod stood behind him. Too weak to be embarrassed, Tyler stayed bent over and waited until the dry heaves stopped.

Straightening up slowly, his mind played a loop of what could have happened if Jarod hadn’t been at the bar that night. If Jarod hadn’t helped him. The guy could’ve r***d Tyler at best, killed him at worst. “Oh, God.” Tyler clutched his spasming stomach.

Jarod remained close enough for Tyler to take comfort from his body heat.

Tyler had no idea how long they remained outside, him bent over with Jarod keeping a close watch, but by the time Tyler moved, his back had a cramp.

They headed into the kitchen, and Tyler took the glass of water Jarod offered.

He needed to stay strong, to keep himself from falling apart so he could hear the rest of the story before he left. He could break down back home when he was alone.

“You okay?” Concern laced Jarod’s voice and his expression matched.

“I think so.” Tyler took a deep breath. Trying to keep his stinky breath on his side of the room, he exhaled into his hand. “I remember. I remember the guy from the pizza parlor.” He shook his head. “I remember him from somewhere else—school, I think.”

“You mentioned he asked you to come for a drink, and that he was meeting someone and didn’t want to wait alone. By the time I arrived, you’d already started the drink he put the drugs in.”

“You helped me. You had no idea what was happening, and you just helped?”

“You were terrified, and you needed help,” Jarod said, making it sound like there was no other option.

“You helping me, saved me, from I don’t know what.”

Jarod’s body turned stiff, and his face turned red.

Tyler believed the anger radiating off Jarod was caused by his inability to do more for Tyler. The idea of that was crazy.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you did. Someone else would have just walked away. Ignored me. f**k. I can never thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to,” Jarod said. “I’m just glad I was there and able to help.”

“But what about the two days? How did I lose two days?”

“First night, you were a little jittery.” Jarod had a strange expression on his face. “The next day, you slept away. You woke a few times. I tried to find out if there was someone to call. To let know you were all right.”

Tyler stopped moving as dread washed through his body with the thought of what his answer had been.

“You said you lived alone and didn’t have a boyfriend.” Jarod’s words were a relief.

Tyler released a breath. The thought of what he could have said, what he could have given away, caused the nauseous feeling to come back.

“I tried to feed you a couple times, but you weren’t interested. Instead, you fell back to sleep. I planned on making breakfast and forcing you to eat some today, but—”

Tyler knew where that “but” led. Not wanting to hear what a fool he’d been for sneaking out earlier, after all Jarod had done for him, Tyler interrupted. “I’m glad you didn’t. It would’ve made the puking a whole lot worse.”

“You sure you’re feeling better? You still look a little green.” Jarod’s brows pinched together, and a frown marred his face.

“I’m just trying to absorb everything you told me.” It was the truth.

“Some of it’s got to be hard. It’s going to take time.” Jarod’s concern caused a tightness in Tyler’s chest.

“Speaking of time, I have to go and get my day started.” Tyler began to move.

“Do you have to leave right now? Maybe stay and have some food?” Jarod offered.

“No, thanks. My stomach’s still a little queasy.”

Needing to get outside, to get away from Jarod, Tyler moved toward the front door.

Jarod stayed right on his tail. “Can I give you a lift?”

Tyler pulled open the door. “A lift? How do you know I don’t have a car?” Tyler grew suspicious again. He couldn’t remember everything he and Jarod had spoken about for the past two days.

“You told me.”

“I did.” Tyler’s stomach knotted with the worry of what else he might have told Jarod.