Free Tyler & Stella (Tattoo Thief) by Heidi Joy Tretheway Page B

not looking forward to seeing a mirror.
    Tyler stares at my knees and he bends, squatting to see them closer. Like he did Tuesday night, he extends a single finger to touch my knee, carefully skirting the bloody mess and sending more shivers through me as he traces the side of my leg along unbroken skin.
    “That scared the shit out of me,” he confesses and straightens up, shaking his head as if to clear the memory from his mind. “I saw you go down. I saw the fence knock you down and people just jump on top of it. I saw the security guards too far away to do anything about it.”
    I wrap my arms around his waist and press my face to his chest in pure gratitude. “Thank you. You saved me.”
    Tyler stands stiff and awkward, until his body relaxes and his arms circle me. We stand together on the bridge for a long minute and I listen to his heartbeat. It’s racing faster than mine, I think.
    I pull Tyler tighter against me and snuggle into him, his green button-down shirt soft, his skin smelling of sweat, soap and spice, and his muscles hot and hard beneath his thin shirt.
    Tyler saved me and it was an incredibly stupid thing to do. He could have been crushed too. He could have been mauled by a bunch of fans. But he jumped off the stage and pulled me out from where I was suffocating.
    I draw a deep, ragged breath of relief as I keep holding Tyler, and I feel his halting breath as he responds. I’m aware that people are passing us on the bridge deck but I’ll ignore them as long as I can.
    I’m in a perfect little bubble, throbbing knees and chin aside, and I’m not ready to leave it just yet.
    A whistle and a boom pops the bubble. I hear a crackle and a sizzle and look up to see a firework’s white sparks rain down. More whistle-boom-crackle-sizzle and umbrellas of color splash across the sky.
    I sneak a glance up at Tyler and he’s smiling. “Good timing.” I grin up at him as explosions light up the night.
    “Best seat in the house,” he agrees, still holding me tightly against his chest. He pivots our bodies so we’re both looking to the side to see the show. “You in a rush to get home?”
    “No. I thought you were.” His manic pace leaving the concert venue certainly suggested it.
    “I was just freaked out about what happened. I wanted to get away, get you somewhere to get fixed up.” He looks at me closely. “Are you really OK? I didn’t think we’d be able to find a cab right by the concert, but I probably shouldn’t have made you walk. I’m sorry.”
    I squeeze him a little more tightly and love how our bodies fit together, his so much longer than mine but each curve on my body fitting with the planes of his, as if we are two pieces of a puzzle. As if we are meant to go together.
    “I’m going to be fine, Tyler. I’m tougher than I look.” The words are truer than he could know. “Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I’m fragile.”
    “Short- ish .” He chuckles and I remember our conversation from his loft. “You just prove good things come in small packages.”
    Tyler thinks I’m good? When I left his loft two days ago he implied I was a bad friend and a back-stabbing reporter.
    I’m afraid he’s only being nice because of what’s happened tonight and I frown. I can’t blame him if he thinks bad things about me. I did stab my friend in the back. I deserve it.
    No amount of apology can erase my record. Only goodness, like Beryl said. Only right choices, from now forward.
    A crackle close to my ear rattles me and I look up to see an enormous firework rain down on us. The proximity scares me and my body’s on high alert as each sizzling point of light falls, twinkles, and burns out.
    Tyler looks down at me and our eyes lock, my neck craned back and my mouth inches from his. I want to explore his face, his soft lips, his smooth jaw, but instead I let his eyes hold me as tightly as his arms are around me. We reestablish the connection that took my breath away when he was onstage.