Chapter 12 - Tyler Lost The Job He Was Trying To Win
Northline terminated Tyler.
The police pilot was canceled.
The grant application never received funding.
Evan Price resigned before the company's internal review finished.
None of those outcomes made me feel better.
Tyler moved back into my mother's house after Michael temporarily left.
That arrangement lasted four days.
Then Tyler called me.
Not through Emma.
Not through an attorney.
His lawyer had cleared him to contact me about family matters, not the investigation.
I answered.
“What?”
He exhaled.
“Great to hear you too.”
“What do you need?”
“I can't stay here.”
“Why?”
“Mom watches me breathe.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It is.”
I almost smiled.
He heard it.
Then his voice changed.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever hate me?”
The question surprised me enough that I sat down.
“No.”
“You barely knew me.”
“That's not the same as hate.”
“You missed my graduation.”
“I was deployed.”
“You missed college move-in.”
“I was working.”
“You missed my twenty-first.”
“I know.”
Silence.
He said:
“You always have a reason.”
There was no useful defense.
“Yes.”
Tyler continued:
“Michael showed up.”
That hurt because it was supposed to.
And because it was true.
Michael had shown up for Tyler's life in ways I hadn't.
That did not make Michael's violence acceptable.
It made Tyler's loyalty intelligible.
“You loved him.”
“Yeah.”
“You still do.”
Long pause.
“Yeah.”
I rubbed my wrist.
The bruising had faded.
“You can love someone and still tell the truth about them.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He laughed bitterly.
“I'm the guy who created a fake military record because I thought my stepdad being proud of me mattered more than what it did to you.”
Half brother.
His stepdad was his biological father? Wait.
Michael was my stepfather.
Tyler was Michael and Emma's son.
I corrected him.
“Your dad.”
Silence.
Tyler laughed once.
“See? We don't even have the same family.”
That landed harder than he knew.
“I know.”
He continued:
“I thought if I could bring him a deal, he'd stop saying I needed to get serious.”
“So you borrowed me.”
“Yes.”
“Why not ask?”
“You would've said no.”
“Probably.”
“Exactly.”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“You don't get to skip consent because you predict rejection.”
Tyler went quiet.
I heard myself.
The sentence was bigger than Northline.
Bigger than him.
Michael had decided I was fake because he predicted what I would say if asked.
Emma hid the draft because she predicted what I would do.
I stayed away because I predicted what going home would feel like.
We had all become experts in conversations we never actually had.
Tyler said:
“I’m sorry.”
I didn't answer immediately.
He added:
“I know that doesn't fix it.”
“No.”
“Do you want me to stop calling?”
I looked at the wall.
“No.”
He sounded surprised.
“Okay.”
“But don't call me because Mom tells you to.”
“She didn't.”
“Good.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Avery?”
“What?”
“Did you read Michael's statement?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know whether I want him in my head yet.”
Tyler was quiet.
Then he said:
“He asked me to tell you something.”
My jaw tightened.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay.”
“If Michael wants me to know something, he can use the channel his lawyer gave him.”
“Okay.”
“I won't use you as a messenger.”
Tyler exhaled.
May you like
“Thank you.”
That was when I realized he had been expecting me to ask anyway.
