### CHAPTER TEN A few days have slipped by since the family dinner, and here I am again, seated at my parents' house for yet another family gathering I couldn't care less about. The name Ryan reverberates in my mind—a brittle echo of a single word that holds the weight of infinite possibilities. Just one whisper of that name has given me access to a world I might not even want to explore. The clinking of silverware and strained laughter draws me back into the crushing reality before me. These family dinners have become my silent vigil, my way of monitoring my mother, of making sure she isn’t bearing any visible wounds from her life with Mitchell. While I may excel at wearing a mask, she has mastered the art of concealment. Mitchell sits across from us, his unpredictability cloaked beneath layers of charm and authority. Outside this house, the world is governed by meticulously crafted plans and strategies. But here, in this stifling space, he becomes a storm, and we all become collateral damage in his wake. Alcohol flows freely, amplifying his volatile nature—a dangerous mixture of laughter and rage. Next to me, Sam sits rigid, her fingers clasping her drink like a lifeline. She's a stark contrast to her usual self—bold, brash, and full of attitude when it’s just us. But here, her vibrancy is snuffed out, reduced to a mere specter of stillness, marred only by the sporadic bouncing of her foot beneath the table. I try to appear calm, determined to show Mitchell he lacks power over me. He thrives on fear, drinks it in like a fine wine, and I refuse to let him see the tension that simmers beneath my skin. Silence fills the air, heavy and oppressive, until my mother's amber eyes cut through it, searching for something—anything— to diffuse the moment. "I’m sorry this is all you get," her voice trembles slightly, each word tinged with desperation. "So, Sam, how is that paint shop?" She grips onto the topic as though it could tether us to something normal. The lines around her mouth deepen, evidence of the stress and weight she carries each day under Mitchell's shadow. “It’s an art studio,” Sam corrects, her teeth grinding as she forces the words out through barely contained anger. “Right, the art studio. Do you get a lot of business?” My mother continues, each question a plea for connection, for normalcy. There was a time I might have wished for more from her, but I can’t pity her any longer. I begged her to leave this life behind, countless times as a child and even now as an adult, but she stubbornly clung to the familiar. “It brings enough. I—” Sam begins, only to be cut off by Mitchell’s sarcastic brand of superiority. "What she means to say is, it barely scrapes by." His disdain drips from every word. "Especially since you let people wander in for free." I shoot him a warning glare, my jaw tensing as the tension escalates. “Watch it.” “Since you want to talk about your presence, Tyler, why don’t we focus on you?” he snaps back, a challenge sparking in his eyes. Here we fucking go again. Sam’s gaze lands on me, fear absolutely etched in her features. I roll my eyes but offer her a reassuring smile. The truth is, I used to tremble in fear of Mitchell, but after that day he left me battered and broken in the hospital, something inside me shifted. I recognized the worst was over, and from that moment on, I refused to be afraid. “Mitchell, please,” my mother implores, her voice desperate. “We barely get to have dinner together as it is.” “Quiet, woman,” he snaps. “Do not speak to her that way.” I feel the glass in my hand tighten under my grip, my resolve hardening. “Tell me, Tyler—what do you know about speaking to women when you can’t even keep one long enough to marry?” His laugh is hollow, mocking, and the same tiresome argument resurfaces—my inadequacies laid bare in front of us all. "You are heir to this company! We had you and Sam before we were your age; you need to marry someone worthy, with a respectable name and breeding." His voice rises, filled with a manic intensity. "You can't parade yourself around as though being a bachelor is a badge of honor." My blood boils as he continues to berate me, the anger stirring within me, fueled by years of expectations I’ve no intention of meeting. "Don’t think I don’t keep tabs, Tyler. You burned too many bridges when you left Shelby. We all expect you to adhere to your duty," he proclaims, jabbing a finger at me. “Dad, that’s not Tyler. He was clear with Shelby about his intentions—” Sam tries to intervene but is interrupted once more. “And you, Sam,” he snaps, his voice hard. “You’re parading around, practically a disgrace yourself! You’re both adults from a good family, and you’re ruining the Caddell name!” In a flash, I’m on my feet, my fist thrust against his crisp shirt. The glass tumbles from his grip, crashing to the floor. My vision narrows; I can only see the fire burning in his eyes, matching the color of my own. “I will say this once more,” I growl, every word coated in lethal calm. “Watch your fucking mouth. I won’t hesitate to drag you into the nightmares you subjected me to as a child.” I push him back into the couch, the air thick with tension. “Mom, get out of the house. Go to a friend’s or find a hotel for the night. I won’t leave until you’re safe,” I declare, resolute in my intent to protect her, no matter the cost. Sam sits frozen beside me, her gaze distant, eyes wide with fear. “Let’s go, Sam,” I urge, reaching for her as my mother’s pleas hang in the air like smoke. “Tyler, please…” my mother whispers, hesitant. Mitchell rises, swaying dangerously, eyes glinting with fury. He grasps the bourbon bottle, slamming it on the table, sending liquid splashing over the rim. “Mom, please listen,” I insist, frustration extending my patience to its breaking point. Against all odds, she hesitates, her internal battle weighing her down, but as though answering a silent prayer, she grabs her coat and keys, dashing to the door. In a swift movement, I shove Mitchell aside, leading Sam out into the cold abyss of night. The biting air greets us as we step outside, and with the door shutting behind us, the chaos of inside dims, turning into a silent ghost echoing in our minds. “Mom,” I say, leaning into Diane’s car, kissing her forehead. “I love you. Text me when you’re safe. Whatever you do, do not come back here tonight. Just let him sleep it off.” I slip her my credit card—a safety net in case Mitchell has blocked her access to their funds. Tears shimmer in her eyes, pooling with unspoken regrets. “Tyler, I’m so sorry. He hasn’t been this bad in a while…” Shaking my head, I press my lips to her cheek. “The offer still stands, you know that. When you’ve had enough, you let me know.” As I close the door to Sam’s Jeep, I run my hands over my face, allowing a heavy groan to escape my lips. I sink into the seat beside her, the weight of the evening hanging thick in the air. “Martha’s?” Sam suggests, breaking the silence, her voice a lifeline. “Yes, please,” I laugh, grateful for her ability to pull me from the depths of my thoughts. She smiles, and her fingers dance across her phone, sending messages to our family. In moments, my phone pings, the familial chat lighting up with agreement to gather at Martha’s, and a message from Sunny flutters through, hinting at a smile on my lips. “Be there in 30!” it reads. “I like you, Sunny,” I think to myself, just as my phone buzzes again, this time with a notification revealing my mother’s safe arrival at the hotel. I double-check her location, satisfied she’s where I wanted her to be. Anthony arrives first, followed closely by Cole, and Macey, excitement coloring the air as they settle into our usual booth. And then there it is—the undeniable warmth radiating my way—a familiar presence I can feel before I see her. Sunny walks through the door, freshly donned in her scrubs, a routine uniform that somehow looks beautiful on her. “You look like you need a drink,” she says, making herself at home beside me. My heart revs into overdrive at her closeness, electricity sparking between us. Her nose is pink from the October chill, and I can’t resist asking, “Did you walk here?” Her playful smirk hints at mischief as she bites her lip. “That’s none of your business. But drinks seem to be covered.” She gestures toward the trio at the bar—Sam, Anthony, and Cole—all immersed in laughter and banter. “It definitely is my concern when it’s you, Sunny,” I muse, trying to mask the possessiveness I feel over her actions. “I’ll take your silence as a yes,” she quips, her eyes darting between our family and me. “Sam’s had her fun with both of those guys, but it seems Anthony has been infatuated with her since childhood,” I let slip, feeling a sense of camaraderie between us. “Cole?” Sunny’s curiosity piquing, urging me to continue. “Cole is like the one thing she can’t touch. Tell her she can’t have something, and it only makes her want it more.” I observe the tangled dynamics around the table, hearing Sam tease Cole, planting the seeds of chaos. Macey nudges me, “I’ve secured the pool table for the night after negotiating a little flirt,” she grins proudly. “Best explanation for your absence,” I quip back, stealing another glance at my phone to check on my mother. Still safe. Thankful once again, I can focus on my friends. Just then, cold beers arrive, resuming the lively chatter, and as Sunny scoots in closer, our thighs brushing against one another, my chest tightens with unrestrained excitement. The freckles dusting her nose, her hair cascading like ocean waves—everything about her captures my attention, pulling me deeper into a feeling I can hardly define. I relish her laughter, noticing the forced nature of it, knowing far too well she conceals her own burdens behind it. As the drinks continue to flow, she places her hand on mine, urging me, “Put it away. Be in the moment.” Swallowing hard, I obey, instinctively slipping my phone into my pocket. I’d do anything for you, Sunny. And with that thought, the Tyler I know—the protector, the problem solver—starts to surface again, blending seamlessly into the carefree spirit of the night. Two rounds of drinks in, and I see it—the real Tyler emerging, leaving behind the mask that had controlled him for so long. “Dance with me,” I challenge, a statement rather than a question. “What?” Her surprise only makes me want to pull her closer. But soon, I’m leading her onto the makeshift dance floor, my heart racing as adrenaline courses through my veins. With every awkward step, I twirl her, and when she stumbles into my chest, the laughter that erupts between us is pure and vibrant, like radiant stars breaking through the dark. “I wish I could blame this on the alcohol, but even sober, I’d want to do this with you,” I confess, realizing just how much she means to me. Suddenly, my phone rings, breaking the bubble we crafted. I can’t help but smirk, the tension easing, “Have some decency! You made me wait for dinner first,” I tease. “Tyler!” she holds back a laugh, but I can’t shake the heavy weight of reality creeping back in. As I look to her, she’s drawn back into the reality of her own life—a phone call, an obligation pulling her away. “It’s my parents,” she says, her demeanor shifting. “What’s going on?” I press, keeping an eye on the distress spreading across her face. Her hesitation lingers as she steps outside into the cool air, leaving me watching her depart, feeling the space grow absent. “Are you alright?” I whisper silently to myself, longing for her return, my heart pounding in anticipation for what lies ahead—the swirl of family drama, secrets waiting to unravel, and an undeniable connection that sparks between us like wildfire. I won’t let anything come between this moment. As my mind races, I realize that beneath it all, life continues—tense and tumultuous—but it’s the tenderness of connection that will guide us through the storm. “Stay safe, Sunny,” I send out into the universe, hoping —no, believing—it’ll reach her somehow as she takes that call, knowing full well that our lives, intertwined with secrets and promises, are bound to collide yet again.