Mess To Be Made

59

            I understood why Tyler wanted to come up here.

It was a flat rooftop, small and surrounding by much taller structures. But if you stood in a specific spot, facing a certain way, you had an incandescent silhouette of the city. Buildings glimmering in the foreground while skyscrapers loomed in the background. One arch of the Bay Bridge was slightly visible, the lights reflecting on a sliver of bay water.

"I know," Tyler murmured in my ear, standing right behind me. His proximity and words caused me to jump. I didn't even realize I'd said, 'It's beautiful,' out loud. Or that I became so transfixed with my surroundings that I let him get so close.

I sidestepped him quickly, squaring my body toward his with a firm glare. "So. I believe I'm owed some dumb answers."

His gaze darkened, his eyes and lips turning down slightly as he took a seat on a cement ledge near a water heater. His slight head nod in my direction was all the instruction I needed to come sit beside him. Our shoulders brushed against one another, sending crackles of electricity down my arm. I wanted nothing more than to reach out, put his hand in mine again. I held my ground, though, watching him focus on his shoes. And, despite his ashamed demeanor, the answers he gave me were anything but dumb.

Turns out, as per usual, I was the dumb one.

Because what Tyler had been through this past week was far worse than my whining and crying.

Because within minutes of Tyler being driven away, Joby had swiped his phone and chucked it out the window of the car. An explanation as to why every one of my texts went unanswered and all my calls went to voicemail.

Because within hours of Tyler arriving at Marty's rundown apartment in Palm Desert on the outskirts of San Diego, he was subjected to absolute chaos. He didn't divulge many details about his stay at Marty's, but he didn't need to. The way he squeezed his eyes shut just recounting the basic facts of his time there was enough to know, it wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

Because in the early hours of Sunday morning, he was dropped off in the middle of the desert, his part of 'the deal' to meet a few men of one of the largest cartels in the San Diego area. To give Joby a foot in their playing field.

Because the cops picked him up just after he'd completed his end of 'the deal' by buying four thousand dollars worth of heroin.

Because they held him for a full day at the police station before they spoke with him. And when they did, he told them the truth.

The whole truth. Everything.

No secrets.

"I sat in that interrogation room for hours," Tyler's voice, which had been hoarse throughout his whole explanation, now rumbled with an underlying amusement that surprised me. "Even after I told them everything, I was so sure it was over for me. I was convinced I was about to be formally charged. Following in my mother's footsteps. Almost exactly. It was so ironic it was almost funny."

I stared at him, still wondering why he was barely resisting a smile as he continued staring at his feet, speaking words that warranted no joy, as far as I was concerned.

"Instead, they told me they believed me. That no charges would be pressed against me." He glanced at me, a glint in his eye that made my heart race.

I stayed still, watching him with my breath stuck in my throat. He didn't hesitate reaching for my hand this time, holding it so that his thumb could put pressure on the center of my palm.