Paper Trails

34.

"Tyler—"

"And I'm left with those memories. With those feelings. I'm left knowing that Christopher is the bad guy and he always has been. Even when he wasn't."

"I'm sorry."

"And I can't hate him. Even if he reminds me every day that I'd be dead if it weren't for him. Even if he constantly reminds me that I was nothing but a junkie—a gay junkie with no family or friends. Nothing. I can't hate him. Because I owe him. Because I..."

He didn't need to say it. I already knew exactly how he felt about Chris. Chris was breaking his heart, and that was breaking mine.

"He's ruining you, Tyler."

"Maybe. But who's worse? Him for ruining me..." His head shifted, and his eyes met mine once again. "Or me for letting him?"

*****

My eyes watered as I stared at the contact name in my phone. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. My finger hovered over the name, but I didn't allow myself to tap it.

I didn't allow myself to feel hopeful.

Almost as if I summoned him, Niccolò walked into the kitchen, walking right past me and to the fridge. My back was facing him. I was too busy staring at the phone. A thousand and one questions circled my head but only one stood out more than the rest. Why?

"Have you called Roman yet?" His voice was nonchalant, but there was an edge to it.

"No."

Silence. I turned and watched as he pulled out a beer and opened it, chugging some down. His eyes met mine and stayed there. I don't know how much time passed, but neither of us more or spoke. Neither of us were willing to give in.

The phone felt like it was getting heavier and I couldn't help but glance at the screen again. Maybe this isn't what it looks like. Why would it be? This was Niccolò we're talking about. He hated me.

"You're crying."

Was I? I hadn't even realized. My other hand raised up to brush the tears away.

"Just say thank you, Neila." His tone was hard as he turned away. "Just say thank you and call him."

But...he hates me.

"W-Why...?" My voice cracked and I looked at the screen again.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Just say thank you—"

"Fuck that. Why? You hate me. So why the fuck—"

"Enough!" He roared, spinning around to face me again. "I do hate you. And if I didn't need you now I would fucking kill you. So if I were you, I wouldn't ask why. I would say thank you and I'd fucking call him."

My mouth clamped shut. He stormed past me, and a few moments later, the front door slammed shut. My chest tightened as my eyes returned to the phone. Taking a deep breath, I tapped the name and brought the phone to my ear.