Chapter 8
Kyler
Wincing at the sounds coming from inside the bathroom, I moved away from the door and then went back, trying the doorknob again. She’d locked me out. God knows I could help her, hold her hair and shit, but she actually locked me out.
Damn it all to hell and back again, I wanted to kick the door in.
But I didn’t. I’d seen the look on her face, like I’d crushed her. I didn’t get why.
I stared at the door, taking a deep breath. Why did you stop me? Did she really ask that question? Was she still drunk? It seemed obvious to me. Syd had been way too drunk to even be considering masturbation, let alone sex.
Backing away from the door, I turned and headed downstairs. I checked her phone—still didn’t work—and then I checked the news. Still calling for the storm of the century, and outside the snow was starting to really come down.
I did just about everything to stop myself from checking on Syd, or from really thinking about what she had asked me. I even called my mom.
She answered on the second ring, sounding breathless. “Hey honey, please tell me you’re not on your way home. I don’t want you trying to drive through a blizzard or putting Sydney in a car.”
My lips split into a grin. “We’re going to wait it out, Mom.”
“Good.” Relief was evident in her voice. “Tony and I were so worried you were going to try to get out of there and hit the storm on the way.”
I meandered through the various rooms, stopping in the sunroom. “What’s it doing there?”
“Snowing like crazy, honey,” she replied. “Did anyone else make it up there?”
“No.” I moved a plotted plant to a different stand. “They hit the snow coming up.”
“So, it’s just you and Sydney?”
“Yep.”
There was a pause. “Interesting.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, but she said it way too innocently. “Are you taking care of Sydney?”
I thought of last night. “Yeah, I always do.”
“That is true.” Another pause had my brows slamming down. So did not trust her silences. “You know, she treats you real good, honey.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“That’s a good girl with a good head on her shoulders. You’d be—”
“Okay,” I cut in. I was not having this conversation with her. There was only one other conversation I dreaded more than talking about girls with my mom.
Mom laughed and then she said, “Oh. Before I forget—Tony wants to take you to the club in Bethesda we’re looking into remodeling. He wants to see what you think of it.”
I came to a complete standstill. Aaand there was the other conversation. “Why?”
“Because we probably won’t make a move on it until late spring,” she explained, and I could hear the TV in the background. She must’ve been in her home office. “The owner is holding out and thinks they have enough money to get them an additional four months, but we’ll see. Anyway, it works out perfectly. It can be your first restoration.”
“Huh?”
“You’re graduating in the spring, or did you forget that?” Excitement hummed in her voice, and my stomach sank. “This works out perfectly. You get to show us your goods with the club in Bethesda. Tony wants to take you down there while you’re home over break.”
My eyes widened as I turned from the windows. “I don’t know, Mom. I might not have time for that.”
“Oh, pooh on that. You’ll have time.”
I said nothing.
Mom went back to talking about the weather, but I was barely listening. Ever since the restoration business took off, it was just assumed I would be a part of it. At first, I really didn’t have anything against it. Good money—great money even—my own hours, and I could travel, but it didn’t appeal to me.
It wasn’t what I wanted, what I cared about.
But Mom had sent me to college for this. Telling her that there was something else I wanted to do with my life was tantamount to throwing all that money back in her face—money that had started with my father’s life insurance.
I got off the phone pretty quickly after that and found myself in the basement, holding my guitar in my hands and staring into nothing. Back to Syd—always back to Syd.
A huge part of me was just confused. Completely, utterly confused by her question, but the other part? I was pissed. Did she think I normally slept with girls who were so fucked up they couldn’t walk straight? There was a huge, vast difference between that and being drunk. Was that how she really thought of me?
Disgust rolled through me, and my hand tightened around the neck of the guitar.
I had never slept with a girl who didn’t know what she was doing. If I even thought for one second that a girl was too drunk, nothing happened. Just like with Mindy. Then again, perception was all that mattered. All Syd saw was me going home with girls after drinking. I’d slept with a lot of females, so it didn’t take a huge leap of logic for her to think that I slept with every one of those girls, and that she wouldn’t be any different.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I sat on the couch across from the covered pool table.
The muscles in my stomach tightened. How could Syd think I’d treat her like a drunken one-night stand? The whole idea of that sickened me. I wasn’t perfect, but fuck, this was Syd.
Syd would always deserve far better than that, and far better than me, no matter how deep she lived inside of me.