Tanner: How can you leave a sick person in the house and go have fun with your girlfriend? (Sent)
He presses send without much thought, the first thing that rolls into his head making it onto the screen.
But as soon as the message is sent, he feels a pang of regret. What am I even doing? This is ridiculous.
Just two minutes later, his phone buzzes with a reply. Impatiently, Tanner unlocks his screen, opening the message.
Tyler: Don't you have your own girlfriend to look after you?
Tanner stares at the text, his mind swirling. The girlfriend I just sent away because I wanted to rest… and now here I am, texting her brother like this. He shakes his head in disbelief at himself.
Tanner: Does that mean you're really with Lexy?
Tyler: How is that your business?
Tanner: Right, not my business.
Tyler: I'm not with her. I went for a walk to clear my head, but now you're distracting me. I can't even think straight anymore.
Tanner: You could have ignored my texts if I'm bothering you, but no—you chose to let me bother you. Anyway, I need to clear my head too. Where are you? I'm coming.
Tyler: No.
Tanner: C'mon, you don't own the place. Just tell me.
Tyler: Then just go somewhere else. Or sleep.
Tanner: I'm new in this city. I might get lost. Do you hate me that much that you don't care? I don't think so. You pretend to dislike me. Unless… you're avoiding me.
Tyler: I'm not replying anymore. Bye.
Tanner: We need to talk, Tyler. I know you know that there's something we need to discuss. Avoiding me isn't going to do us any good.
Tyler: Talk about what?
Tanner: That one thing you know we need to talk about. Stop these Tom and Jerry games. I'm too old for that. Don't you think? Now, where are you?
Tyler: Haven Park.
Tanner: Be there in 20 minutes.
○●○
Tanner's heart pounds as he rushes into the bathroom for a quick five-minute shower.
The cold water barely calms his nerves. As he stands in front of the wardrobe, rifling through his clothes, he hesitates for a moment.
Do I even look okay? Does it matter? He settles on his usual attire but spends an extra second in front of the mirror, smoothing out his outfit and running a hand through his damp hair.
Satisfied—or at least as much as he can be—he grabs his phone and heads downstairs.
The house is eerily quiet, his steps echoing softly against the polished floors. Joe and Rachael had mentioned earlier that they wouldn't be home.
Outside, Noah, the guard, nods at him. "Heading out, sir?"
"Yeah, just for a while. Let anyone who asks know." Tanner doesn't wait for a reply as he walks off toward the park.
○
Haven Park stretches out beneath a canopy of golden-hued autumn leaves.
The air is crisp and carries the faint scent of damp earth.
A few benches line the meandering paths, mostly empty save for a couple of elderly couples and lone readers.
Tyler sits on one near the edge of the path, his foot tapping out a restless rhythm against the gravel.
His headphones are perched snugly over his ears, blasting "Only Love Can Hurt Like This" by Paloma Faith.
The song, though loud, does little to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in his head.
His dark eyes dart nervously toward the main path.
Every time he looks at his phone, his thumb hovers over the screen as if ready to type something, then he puts it down again.
He tugs at the sleeves of his oversize hoodie, rolling them up and then back down, an endless cycle of fidgeting.
A squirrel scurries across the grass nearby, startling him enough to make him chuckle nervously.
Get a grip, Tyler.
Then he sees him. Tanner.
Walking toward him with an air of determination that makes Tyler's heart lurch.
His foot stops tapping, and he scrambles to pull off his headphones.
In his haste, he fumbles, nearly dropping them. His hands shake slightly as he shoves them into his pockets, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.
"Did I keep you waiting long?" Tanner asks as he approaches, his voice calm, almost too casual.
"I wasn't waiting," Tyler replies quickly, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. "Before you even planned to come, I was here… doing my own thing. So, no. I wasn't waiting."
Tanner raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Yeah." Tyler nods, trying to muster a confidence he doesn't feel. "How are you feeling? The headache… has it calmed down?"
"Not really. It got worse after you left."
"Then why did you insist on coming here?" Tyler snaps, his voice sharper than intended. "You should've stayed at home and rested."
"Because that wasn't helping. Not even the medicine. But now that I'm here, maybe it will." Tanner pauses, his gaze softening. "What about you? How are you feeling?"
Tyler shrugs. "I'm fine."
"You don't come to clear your head when you're fine," Tanner counters. "We can talk, you know. We're brothers, after all. Brothers can help each other out if something's wrong."
The word brothers makes Tyler flinch inwardly. He hates hearing it, hates how it feels like a wall between them. "Thanks, but I'm fine," he lies.
"Really?" Tanner's voice is steady, but there's an edge of challenge to it. "Well, I'm not fine. Not about what happened between us yesterday in the storeroom—"
"Stop!" Tyler cuts him off, his voice rising. "I wasn't myself yesterday. I… I might've drunk a little too much, and I want to apologize. Let's not talk about it."
"You were drunk?" Tanner's eyes narrow. "No, you weren't. I would've known. Fine, let's say you were drunk. What about now, Tyler? Are you drunk now? Because you're acting the same way. Nervous. Avoiding my eyes. Just like you always do."
Tyler's jaw tightens, but he doesn't respond.
"And if it helps," Tanner continues, stepping closer, "I want you to know that I feel exactly the same when you're around. So, c'mon. Let's talk about it. You know we have to."
"I…" Tyler stammers, his voice faltering. "I don't know what to say about it." His eyes flicker to the ground, his hands clenching into fists inside his hoodie pockets.
Tanner's gaze softens, but his resolve doesn't waver. "Then let's figure it out together."