Chapter 9 TYLER
“Challenge accepted.”
Those were the last words I’d expected to come out of her mouth. I’d been half-expecting her to prove me wrong, throw insults at me, or at the very least, walk out. But she’d met me head-on, catching me off guard. Still, she hadn’t said one word in her defense to make me think otherwise.
I mean, any student capable of attending Westfield Academy clearly wasn’t hurting for money. So when Mom told me a classmate would be replacing Rachel—because her mother thought she was qualified and it’d be a good way for her to earn some cash—I had a hard time believing it.
I was sure she had an ulterior motive—I just hadn’t cracked it yet. Still, that flicker of hurt when I went off on her made me wonder if I’d been wrong about her pulling strings to be near me. For a second, I almost felt guilty. Almost. Then I spotted Mom’s car in the driveway, and any chance of an apology went out the window.
Whatever shred of remorse I had left snapped the second I overheard her in the kitchen on my way down for my bag.
“…still taking his predicament hard and doing his best to shut everyone out. Still, this is just our second session—I can handle him.”
My jaw locked so tight my teeth ached. Handle me? Like I was some fucking problem only she knew how to solve? I didn’t wait to hear the rest of the conversations because I would’ve been tempted to go in there and make a scene.
I stormed upstairs to my bedroom, trying to ignore what I’d just heard. I reached for my phone in my bag and began scrolling online to distract myself, yet it was no use. Her words kept playing in my head.
Unable to forget it, I tried to calm myself by playing some music. It was one of the ways I’d learned to control my temper, especially in situations like this, where I felt like hitting something.
I threw on some rap and started changing out of my uniform—which was not an easy feat with one hand— when the door creaked open.
A whiff of her fruity, coconutty shampoo drifted in, and my body went rigid. She hadn’t realized I was standing just behind the door, by the closet. A twisted part of me felt satisfied when she jumped as I slammed it shut.
“Want to tell me about your little conversation with my mom?”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You can handle me, huh?” I spat, eyes boring into her. “That’s what you told my mom? That you’re strong enough to put up with me?”
She froze, guilt flashing across her face, and that only fueled me.
“Here’s a thought,” I said, stepping closer, voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “Maybe I don’t want to be handled. Maybe I’m not some fucking charity case you get to pat yourself on the back for tolerating. I said this before, and I’ll say it again: I don’t need you. I don’t need your help, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity. If you’re only here because you feel sorry for me, then trust me—you’re the last thing I need. You want to do yourself a favor? Quit. Because if you stay, I’ll make sure you fucking regret it.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, eyes blank, unreadable. I wanted her to say something back. To argue, to fight me.
Anything to prove her intentions were real. Anything to prove that she wasn’t here out of pity. But all I got was silence—and that silence pissed me off more than anything.
“Nothing?” I barked out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Figures. You’ve got something to say when you’re kissing up to my mom, but when it’s just me and you? Nothing. No defense. No denial. Just silence.”
She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “You’re right, Tyler. You don’t need me. But needing me was never the point. This is about healing your shoulder, not your pride. I don’t care if you hate me, let’s just do the damn exercises so I can leave.”
It felt like I’d been doused in cold water. Her words calmed the burning rage inside me. I’d almost lost sight of why she was even at my house in the first place.
Reluctantly agreeing with her, I walked over to a corner of my room and dragged my reading table to the center. With one swipe of my hand, the contents on it came crashing to the tiled floor.
“You wanted a table, you’ve got one.”
She didn’t say a word as she moved to the table and leaned forward. Resting an elbow on it to support her weight, she angled her other arm sideways and swung it in small circles.
“Fifteen times in clockwise direction, and fifteen times counterclockwise.”
I snorted. “You look fucking ridiculous. There’s no way I’m doing that.”
“Either you’re doing it, or I’m going downstairs to tell your mom.” She straightened. “I’m sure she’ll be more persuasive than me.”
My eyes narrowed into slits. She tapped her wrist with a finger, then gestured to the table. I didn’t move.
“Since you’re my so-called therapist, I have the right to know what each exercise is for, and get to choose which ones I’ll do.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t optional. It’s the best exercise for relieving stiffness and improving circulation without straining your cuff.”
Unable to come up with any logical excuse not to do it, I stepped toward the table. She moved aside, watching closely as I leaned forward and copied her pose from earlier.
“Easy—don’t dump all your weight on it. The table’s just for balance. Straighten your knees. Keep your hand—” She broke off, shaking her head as she came around behind me to fix my stance.
I didn’t like that. Just as she reached for my elbow, I shot upright—and my arm smacked into her face.
“Shit—” She groaned, both hands flying to her mouth.
My gut clenched. “Did I hurt you?” I gently pulled one of her hands aside to check.
“I’m fine. Just a cut,” she muttered, though her lip was already red.
Without thinking, I brushed my thumb across her lip to wipe away the blood. She hissed, her whole body stiffening. I didn’t realize just how close we’d gotten until she took a sharp step back, almost tripping over herself in the process.
“Sorry.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, refusing to meet my eyes. “It’s okay.”
“I can get my mom to clean that up for you,” I offered before I could stop myself.
“No. No, it’s fine.” She glanced at her wrist like she wore a watch, then back up with a quick shrug. “Would you look at the time? I’ve got somewhere to be. Session’s over. For today, just focus on the pendulum swings. We’ll continue tomorrow. See you at school.”
Before I could answer, she brushed past me and bolted out, slamming the door behind her.
I stood there, staring dumbly at the door.
What the hell was that about?