"Love, Trust, and Secrets"

Chapter 3-2

Tyler stood in the kitchen of the restaurant, facing the sink, grateful it was still early so there weren’t many pots and pans to clean.

His boss was pissed when Tyler first arrived. He hadn’t yelled. Instead, he was uncommonly quiet. The one time he did talk to Tyler, he told him to go into the kitchen to wash pots, something Tyler hadn’t done in a long time.

As the day continued, Mr. Caleb’s mood changed. “Tyler, you’re not looking too good. Why don’t you have something to eat, then head home? We don’t want you having a relapse.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tyler’s tired muscles and worried thoughts had made the morning, thus far, pass in slow motion. He couldn’t tell if it was the residual effects of the drug or the fact that someone had drugged him that caused his exhaustion, both mental and physical, but he figured it was probably a combination of both.

Finished with the pots, Tyler didn’t bother to grab lunch. He wanted to go home so he could fall down.

The ride home seemed longer than usual. Tyler stepped into his apartment as the first drops of rain fell. The gray sky did nothing good for his mood.

It took only thirty minutes of sitting inside his tiny room for him to feel like a caged animal. He tried to get a handle on everything that had gone down, as adrenaline raced through his body, making him ready to jump out of his skin.

Part of the reason he’d had so much trouble wrapping his mind around what’d happened was because the night in the bar hadn’t been the first time someone had drugged him. The only difference between the two times had been, this time he, at least had an idea of what the guy was after.

He paced back and forth, in his ten-by-forty-foot space, as memories came crashing into his mind. His thoughts took the shape of the past, the pictures as vivid as life…

He’d awoken in the hospital, surrounded by strangers. Some had worn white uniforms; some had worn blue with badges. He’d thought it’d been a dream and had tried to wake himself up. But every time he’d closed his eyes and reopened them, he was still lying in the hard bed, in the stark white room surrounded by strangers, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic.

No one realized he was awake. It gave him time to glance around, to try to figure out what’d happened. Was he in an accident? Oh, God, did something happen to his dad? Where was his dad? Was he dead? Deep fear in the pit of Tyler’s stomach had him ready to scream, demand to know the answers, but something stopped him. He wasn’t sure what, but something told him it was better no one knew he was awake. Before he could evaluate that feeling, his dad walked into the room. His eyes and nose were red, and tears stained his face. Tyler went to sit up, but his body was weak, and his throat hurt too much to cry out, so he whispered, and suddenly the room was thrown into chaos.

The picture in Tyler’s head changed, and his thoughts moved ahead.

First, he heard the policeman say, “Tyler Brannigan, you’re under arrest for possession of an illegal substance with intent to sell.” Then, Tyler heard the judge telling him the same thing. His dad, too. Everyone said it. But Tyler couldn’t understand. He didn’t do drugs, never had, but somehow he not only ended up in possession of them, he ended up in a hospital after overdosing.

As if by pressing a button, his mind flashed forward again.

He’d been in rehab, his only alternative to jail. No one had believed the drugs hadn’t been his. It was his last night there. The night he’d escaped. He’d just finished dinner. As he headed back to his room, he overheard the director talking to his cousin. About to turn the corner to see what she was doing there, he stopped short when he heard their words.

“The test came back positive. There are drugs in Tyler’s system.”

Tyler stood stock still, shocked. There was no way he’d failed the test. He’d never done drugs, ever.

“When will the judge be notified?” Stella’s voice sounded strange. Hard.

“Once the shift nurse comes in tomorrow morning and reads my report, she’ll notify the court.”

Tyler was about to confront them, and tell them there was some kind of mistake, but he didn’t have a chance. Their voices grew louder.

“As soon as the judge finds out, it’ll only be a matter of time before they lock him up in jail,” his cousin said, the screech of her voice sounding harsher than usual.

“You’re sure there won’t be any questions about the test?” The director had sounded concerned, and Tyler knew the feeling pertained to the director and Stella getting caught and not to Tyler.

“None. He’s a pathological liar. He can deny anything he wants, and no one will believe him.”

A cold numbing chill spiraled down Tyler’s spine as he remembered the sound of Stella’s ear-piercing laugh. It had all happened over a year ago, but the memories made it feel like yesterday. Tyler slammed his eyes shut and forced his mind to bring him back to the present.

Although he’d had his suspicions, when he’d heard the final conversation he’d known, without a doubt, his cousin had set him up and had gotten everyone to believe he’d been heavily into drugs. But he still couldn’t figure out why.

Did she expect me to escape the rehab facility and go on the run? Or did she think I’d stay locked away in jail?

Regardless, he couldn’t fathom what either outcome would do for her.

He had so many questions he might never get answered, and they kept him up at night, kept him running.

What’s my alternative? Turn myself in? Then what? Get locked away in jail, regardless of the fact I didn’t do anything wrong?

Tyler’s brain continued to move too fast, racing with these thoughts and those of what his father had been going through, believing the worst of him. Tyler’s pain felt like a punch to the throat. He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt. His head, his stomach, his heart.

He bent over and closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath, trying to get his heartbeat and breathing back to normal. He counted backward from one hundred, and by the time he got to fifty, his breathing evened out, and at the count of one, he stood straight, his heart no longer threatening to burst out of his chest.

His entire being ached as if he’d run a marathon. He lay on his bed, hoping to get some much-needed rest, but the silence in the room roared and gave his mind too much time to think. For almost two hours, he lay staring at the ceiling, no closer to sleep, black thoughts from earlier trying to creep in.

As he tried to think of something to keep himself busy, his mind occupied, he noticed his e-reader on top of his box of clothes. He pulled up one of his many books by his favorite author, Josh Lanyon. The story opened with the protagonist finding a murder victim outside his place of work. At least things aren’t that bad.

He wasn’t sure for how much longer he read, but when the words became too blurry, he didn’t fight it. He put down the e-reader, shut off the light, and closed his eyes.