Chapter 120 TYLER
The moment I stepped into the living room, I knew I was already in trouble.
Peter was sitting on one end of the couch, stiff like he didn’t know where to put his hands or his eyes. My parents sat opposite us, calm on the surface but with that quiet, controlled kind of anger that somehow felt worse than shouting.
The air felt thick. Like even breathing too loud would set something off.
I walked in slowly and dropped onto the couch beside Peter. He didn’t look at me, but I could tell he was aware of every movement I made.
For a few seconds, no one said anything.
The silence stretched, like they were waiting for me to say something.
Fine.
I exhaled and leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. “Look, I can explain—”
“Tyler.”
My mom’s voice cut through mine, calm but firm enough to stop me cold.
I looked up at her.
“I’d really like you to listen first,” she said.
That tone. Not loud, not harsh, but final.
I leaned back slowly, jaw tightening. “Okay.”
She nodded once, like that was the only acceptable answer.
“I’m really upset with you,” she said, her gaze fixed on mine. “Not just because you disobeyed us, although that’s a big part of it. But because you made a decision, knowing exactly what we asked of you, and chose to ignore it anyway.”
I swallowed, but didn’t interrupt.
“And then,” she continued, “you involved Peter. You put him in a position where he had to lie for you.”
At that, Peter shifted beside me, finally glancing up. “Mrs. Mercer, I—”
“It’s alright, Peter,” she said gently, though her eyes flicked back to me. “This isn’t on you.”
Yeah. It was.
I dragged a hand down my face, already feeling the weight of it settling in.
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Tyler.”
This time it was my dad.
I stopped again, biting back whatever I was about to say.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his expression serious but not cold.
“I know what it’s like,” he said. “Being your age. Being interested in someone. Feeling like they matter more than anything else in that moment.”
I blinked, caught off guard.
“That’s not the problem,” he continued. “We’re not asking you to stop caring about her. We’re not even asking you to ignore her completely.”
“Then what are you asking?” I asked, unable to keep quiet this time.
“That you make better decisions,” he replied evenly. “Because right now, you’re not.”
I shook my head slightly. “I am. You just don’t—”
“Tyler,” my mom said again, softer now but just as firm. “Let him finish.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose, forcing myself to stay quiet.
My dad held my gaze. “When it starts leading to this,” he said, gesturing slightly between us, “to you lying, going behind our backs, dragging your friend into it, and letting it affect your focus, that’s where we draw the line.”
“It’s not affecting my focus,” I said quickly.
His brow lifted slightly. “Your grades say otherwise.”
That hit.
I hesitated. “It’s just one term.”
“Exactly,” he said. “You’ve only got this term to make up for it. That’s it. What you do now is what sticks.’”
“I know.” My voice tightened. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Do you?” my mom asked quietly.
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but the words stalled.
Because if I was being honest, I didn’t have it completely under control. Not when every decision I made lately seemed to circle back to Harper.
“I’m trying,” I said instead, the edge in my voice softening just a little.
“We know you are,” she replied. “But trying doesn’t mean ignoring boundaries.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building again.
“You’re asking me to just leave her alone when she needs me.”
“We’re asking you to take a step back,” my dad corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“It won’t,” he said. “That doesn’t make it wrong.”
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “So what, I just tell her I can’t be there? After everything that’s happened?”
“No,” my mom said gently. “You tell her the truth.”
I shook my head immediately. “That’s not going to help.”
“It might not feel like it right now,” she said, “but honesty is better than what you’re doing.”
“Which is what, exactly?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“Lying,” my dad said simply.
The word sat there between us.
I looked away, jaw tightening again.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone,” I muttered.
“We know that,” my mom said. “But intentions don’t erase consequences.”
Silence fell again, heavier this time.
Then my dad straightened slightly, his tone shifting just enough to signal that the conversation was moving forward whether I liked it or not.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said.
I looked back at him.
“You go to school,” he continued. “And you come straight home. No detours. No stops. No exceptions unless we’ve agreed to it beforehand.”
I tensed. “That’s not—”
“And if you choose to ignore that again,” he added, cutting me off without raising his voice, “then whatever happens next is on you. The consequences will be your responsibility.”
I held his gaze, the weight of that sinking in.
He wasn’t bluffing.
“And as for tonight,” my mom said, her tone softening slightly as she glanced at Peter, “there needs to be a consequence for what already happened.”
Peter straightened beside me like he’d just been pulled into the spotlight.
“For the next week,” she continued, “Peter won’t be coming over.”
“What?” I turned to her immediately. “That’s not fair. This isn’t his fault.”
“I know,” she said. “But this isn’t about punishing him. It’s about making sure you understand that your choices affect other people.”
Guilt twisted in my chest again.
Peter let out a small breath. “It’s fine, man.”
No. It wasn’t.
I looked between them, frustration and guilt tangling together. “You’re seriously doing this?”
“Yes,” my dad said. “We are.”
I leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling for a second before dropping my gaze again.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” my mom said gently. “But it’s necessary.”
Necessary.
Everything about this felt anything but.
I pushed myself to my feet abruptly, the movement rougher than I intended. “Are we done?”
My dad watched me for a moment, then nodded once. “We’re done.”
I didn’t say anything else.
I just turned and walked out of the living room, the tension following me all the way up the stairs.
By the time I reached my room, my chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath the entire time.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes for a second.
Frustration burned under my skin, hot and restless. I wanted to punch something. Break something. Do anything to get rid of the feeling.
But underneath all of that, there was something worse. Guilt.
Not about my parents.
About Harper.
I pushed off the door and walked further into the room, running a hand through my hair again as I tried to replay everything from earlier.
Her voice when she said she’d rather be with me than go home.
The way she’d looked at me in the car when she realized I wasn’t really there.
The disappointment she tried to hide when I told her I’d drop her off.
I’d told myself I was doing the right thing. That I was protecting her. That I’d fix everything later.
But all I’d really done was make it worse.
I let out a slow breath and dropped onto the edge of my bed, staring at nothing.
Grounded. Restricted. Watched.
None of that bothered me as much as it should have.
Because all I could think about was her.
And how, somehow, I’d still managed to let her down.