Chapter 7: Going Away
“What’s going on?” Lara's voice jolted me from the haze of desire as she appeared at the top of the stairs.
In an instant, Tyron shifted away, rolling onto his side. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that stirred something deeper within me.
I quickly scrambled to my feet, facing Lara with feigned composure. “The old tree by the garden was struck by lightning,” I said, grasping for an excuse that would redirect her curiosity away from us.
Tyron stood, his presence still imposing as Lara approached. “I apologize for the disturbance,” he said, his tone casual yet earnest.
“You didn’t bring the lightning, did you?” Lara asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Of course not,” Tyron replied with a playful smirk. “That was all them.”
“What do you mean them?” I frowned, a mixture of curiosity and concern threading through my words.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he sighed, brushing it off as if it were inconsequential. Then, turning to Lara, he added, “Can I stay here?”
“Of course,” Lara said, her sleepy smile easing the tension. “You can take the room next to the kitchen. Let’s sort everything out in the morning.” With that, she drifted back upstairs, leaving us alone.
Tyron quickly surveyed the room meant for him. “It’s better here,” he decided, pulling one of the square couch pillows closer and sinking onto the couch in silence. “Get some sleep. We’ll need to leave early tomorrow.”
His words hung in the air, a reminder of the looming journey ahead, yet I couldn’t shake the heat of his gaze that lingered in my thoughts.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, confusion lacing my voice.
“I’m the father of your kid, right?” Tyron replied matter-of-factly. “That means you should be by my side wherever I go.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious,” he said, closing his eyes as if that would end the conversation.
I lingered, watching him drift into sleep. In the wake of the lightning strike, he looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Tyron always seemed ready for anything that life threw our way, always appearing just when I needed him. But who was he, really? The question nags at me, echoing in my mind. Why was he so determined to protect me?
It was already three in the morning when I finally succumbed to sleep. When I woke, a sharp, itchy pain in my palm pulled me from the depths of my dreams. I peeled back the bandage Tyron had applied and was taken aback by how quickly it had healed, leaving only a faint scratch as a reminder of the accident.
I got the wound a few weeks ago while rushing home late. I had taken a shortcut when I heard the rustling of bushes nearby. Suddenly, a blinding light enveloped me, and I collapsed, losing consciousness. When I came to, my palm was bleeding from a deep, inch-long cut.
A firm knock on the door broke my concentration on the scar, and I quickly rewrapped the bandage. “Who is it?” It was five in the morning.
“Tyron,” came his commanding voice. “It’s time to go.”
“What?” Irritation flared as I swung the door open. “I’m not going with you.” I started to close the door, but he wedged his foot in the way.
“Yes, you are,” he insisted, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. “You need a decent job—something that can support your studies.”
Tyron was right; I couldn’t linger at the club as a waitress. The place was a den of monsters, predatory men lurking, searching for victims like me. He was also correct that I needed a job to support my studies and my own independence. But more than anything, my heart felt powerless against his seemingly unrealistic offers.
“Okay,” I sighed, resignation creeping into my voice. “Just give me a moment.”
Alone in the bathtub, the image of Tyron with that other girl invaded my thoughts again, and I lay there, bare and exposed. “Oh God. What’s wrong with me? Whatever they’re doing is none of my business,” I murmured to myself. As I rubbed soap over my skin, waves of desire washed over me, igniting my imagination with thoughts of Tyron’s touch.
“No!” I protested, shaking my head to dispel the fantasy. “This has to stop.”
“Kristine?” Lara’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Yeah, I’m almost done!” I called back, trying to shake off the remnants of my earlier thoughts.
When I finally stepped into the kitchen, I found Lara and Tyron already there. The table was set with bread, butter, and steaming coffee. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since the night before. Lara flashed a sultry smile at Tyron as she passed him a cup. “Here’s your hot coffee, hot man.”
A pang of jealousy twisted in my gut at her flirtation, but I forced myself to push it aside. She was my friend, after all. There was no harm in her being attracted to his rugged masculinity. I prepared my own coffee, trying to ignore the tension simmering beneath the surface as I joined them at the table. Tyron barely acknowledged me, stealing glances my way while savoring his drink.
Outside, the sound of a chainsaw roared to life, men clearing the trees felled by the lightning from the night before.
“Your backpack is ready, Kristine,” Lara said, her smile bright and conspiratorial.
“What backpack?” I asked, confusion knitting my brow.
“Tyron asked me to help you pack for your vacation,” Lara said, her laughter bubbling over. “I wish I could join you and find some hot guy for a summer escapade! By the way, you absolutely have to wear my new bikini while you’re there.”
“No need for that, Lara,” I replied, forcing a smile. “I’m not going with you, Tyron. This is my home, and this is where I belong.”
“You have to,” Tyron interjected calmly. “Your new job is waiting for you.”
My heart raced at the thought of being with him, but I steeled myself, unwilling to compromise my dignity. Every time I was near Tyron, a reckless desire surged within me, threatening to pull me into a world of lust I wasn’t ready for. I wanted something deeper than mere physical attraction; I was searching for true love. “What kind of job are you offering?"
“You’ll know if you come with me,” he replied adamantly. “And yes, you will come, because I’m the father of your child.”