Free Scared of Forever (Scared #2) by Jacqueline Abrahams Page B

childhood home could have
been so idyllic.
    Tyler flicks the
blanket onto the expansive deck and plops down unceremoniously on it.
For a minute, I think that the holey wood may disintegrate underneath
him, and he might be in danger of falling straight through.
    “Careful,” I tease,
sitting cautiously beside him.
    “Nah,” he says
dismissively. “Looks can be deceiving. This wood is stronger than
you think.” He gives the wood a solid knock with his fist and
shoots me a heart-melting smile.
    “Why does everything
that leaves your mouth sound so metaphorical? You know, just coming
out and saying something usually works infinitely better than dancing
around a subject.”
    “Maybe I’m just
poetic? Maybe my voice is lyrical. Maybe, I just have a way with
words?” Tyler replies, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
    “Maybe you need to
quit flirting!” I scold. “I’m going to be your sister-in-law
soon. It’s a little—incestuous.”
    Tyler grabs his phone
from his pocket and busily types something in. I don’t ask what
he’s doing. It’s not my
business, anyway.
    “Incestuous—” he
begins. “Being so close or intimate as to prevent proper
functioning, or the act of sexual impurity.”
    I blush furiously.
Tyler moves over a few spaces and grins at me teasingly. “There,
the dictionary tells me to not sit too close to you, seeing as how
your proximity to me rattles you and impairs your proper functioning,
owing to all of your sexually impure thoughts.”
    “Very funny,” I
laugh, rolling my eyes. “My mind is extremely chaste, thank you!”
    “Now look who’s
lying and flirting,” he laughs.
    I would have smacked
him in the arm for that one, but I’d have to reach too far.
    Tyler’s company is
pleasant, and it’s almost impossible not to relax when I’m with
him. We ease into a comfortable silence, enjoying the spectacular
view ahead. We do occasionally talk, but for many moments, we just
stare at the water. The waves lap rhythmically against the sandy
flatland, making a soft whooshing sound as they return to the abyss of the ocean. The sound is the same
as holding a seashell to your ear. A light wind eventually picks up,
and the soft sound of the waves is joined with the rustling of the
large tufts of swamp grass, which bend and bow under Mother Nature’s
touch. There is no smog, no noise, no cars, and no people. There is
nothing around to destroy this absolutely ethereal scene.
    We eat our humble lunch
of the makeshift cheese sandwiches, and then proceed to taste the
twelve different flavored French macaroons, one by one. Not
surprisingly, I’m partial to the double chocolate, cookies and
cream, and vanilla bean varieties. Tyler raves on about the exotic
ones: mango, passion fruit, and wild lychee. We wash it all down with
what I thought would be coffee, but isn’t. It’s a decadent and
rich hot chocolate. I fall over laughing when Tyler takes a big bite
of his half of the lemon sorbet flavored macaroon and promptly
scrunches his face up ridiculously. The day is simple, uncomplicated. Easy .
    “So, are you staying
around for a while?” I politely pry, realizing that I quite enjoy
being in Tyler’s company. As far as future brother-in-laws go, I
think I may have hit the jackpot.
    “A few more weeks,”
he says, hitching his leg up to rest his chin on. He’s
so different from Blake. They both are gorgeous, but in
opposite ways. Blake is organized, intent on planning for forever,
sure about what he wants; driven. Tyler is carefree, and doesn’t
strike me as the kind of person who plans for what to do the next
day, let alone the distant future. He’s impulsive and kind, both
evident by the sweet fire in his eyes as he looks out towards the
beach.
    I shake myself out of
the thought pattern. It’s not appropriate for me to entertain such
a romantic comparison of the Carson brothers, even mentally.
    “I have a job in Rio,
at Carnivale,” he says.
    “Rio de Janiero?” I
ask, amazed.
    “Uh