Musically in Love

Chapter 28

Tyler's POV

I had my head under the hood of a car when I heard footsteps approaching me. Figuring it was my boss having come back from his lunch break, I didn't stop my work, wanting to get this finished quickly so that I could possibly leave early. I needed to shower and change before picking McKinley up. I was going to take him out tonight for dinner, since we haven't been on a date in a while.

When I was forcefully yanked away from the car, I knew exactly who had walked in, and I didn't even need to smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of him to know.

He held the collar of my shirt, pressing me up against the back wall. If he hadn't caught me off guard, I would have been able to keep him off me. Unfortunately he seemed a lot stronger than normal when he was this drunk. I wasn't able to push him off me this time.

"What did you do with them?" he grunted at me.

"Do with what?" I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. For all I knew, he was now upset that I cleaned his house the other night. I was never going to win with him.

"You know what, you fucking bastard." He was spitting when he talked, and I was getting dizzy with his breath hitting my face. "The boxes. I told you to fucking burn them, you useless piece of shit! What did you do with them?"

Every few words, he had slammed me into the wall, getting more forceful the longer he talked. I was almost glad no one else was in the shop right now. I didn't need anyone to see this.

"They belong to me," I snapped. "They're out of your house, isn't that what you wanted?"

"You never listen, do you?" I could tell he was getting even more angry with every word. "Why did I even fucking buy you these, you little shit?"

Before I could react, he had ripped both hearing aids out of my ears and threw them on the ground. I watched, frozen in horror, as his foot came down on them, shattering them to bits.

I sank to the floor, grasping at the pieces in a feeble attempt to fix them. My world had just crumbled around me and there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to cry but I knew I couldn't, not in front of him at least. I wasn't fifteen anymore - hell, I was twenty three years old. I shouldn't be afraid of him.

Standing up, I was ready to tell him off. Except I looked up just in time to see my father sending his fist towards my boss, Dave. That was the last straw. Hurting me I could handle. Hurting the people close to me? Unacceptable.

I shoved my father, sending him into a table. Then, while he was down, I hit him, repeatedly. I was getting all my pent up rage out, for all the years I was never able to hit back.

Dave pulled me off my father, holding me back. He was saying something, but I didn't know what. I couldn't focus enough to try to read his lips right now.

Then Dave turned to my father and the two of them argued. I wish I knew what they were saying, but that was impossible. Although my father eventually left, looking rather irritated, so whatever Dave had said worked. He shouldn't have had to get involved though. It wasn't his problem to deal with.

Feeling completely dejected, I bent over to grab all the pieces of my hearing aids that I could. When I stood up, Dave was standing in front of me, holding up a sheet of paper that read: Are you okay?

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said out loud. "My dad. Wasn't aware he knew where I worked."

Dave turned the paper around to reveal the words: I'm sending you home, no arguments. Do you want me to call someone for you? Your boyfriend?

I shook my head again. McKinley was in the middle of band practice. I couldn't ask him to leave just to pick me up. I could ask Casey, though. She probably wasn't doing much right now.

Fifteen minutes later, I was climbing into the front seat of Casey's car. She didn't ask what had happened, which I was grateful for. She also didn't question when I told her to take me to the campus. Dave was right about one thing - I needed my boyfriend. I just wasn't about to make him leave practice for me. Not when I could go to him.

Casey dropped me off by the field and I wandered over to the bleachers to wait for McKinley. I had seen them perform before at the football game last week. It was my first time ever seeing a marching band perform and I have to say, it was so much better than I expected. McKinley had said afterwards - in that uniform that he looked rather adorable in - that it was only their first show and they'd get much better over the course of the season. I disagreed though. I didn't think they could get any better.

Yet here the band was, practicing out in this heat. It was September and the sun was starting to sink below the tree tops, but that didn't mean the temperature was cooling off any time soon. I couldn't imagine how all of the band members must be feeling right now. Some of them looked ready to pass out.

I mostly watched McKinley, whenever I could. He moved with such a grace that he didn't seem to have off the field. Sometimes he would step off to the side while the band marched a move, watching and critiquing his section, always with a smile on his face.

At least, the smile stayed there until his eyes landed on me. I had been here for about twenty minutes already, but he was too focused to look at the bleachers until that moment.

He signed, What are you doing here? It was still sort of sloppy and slow, but I didn't mind. He was trying his best.

I knew he wouldn't be able to understand through sign language across a football field - not that I wanted to tell him like that anyway - so I shook my head, signing a simple I love you instead.

That made a wide smile appear on his face as he eagerly repeated the sign back to me before needing to turn his attention back to his section.

As soon as the practice ended, McKinley was hurrying over to me. I could tell he was worried - I had told him I'd pick him up from his apartment an hour from now, not from here. He was talking a mile a minute, but I couldn't hear a word of it.

Please sign, I asked of him.

His eyes went wide as he sit his instrument case on the ground. What? Are you okay?

I grabbed his hands, bringing them to my lips for a small kiss. That's when he noticed the state of my knuckles and he gently ran his thumb over the cuts, worry very evident in his face.

Letting him go, I signed, Can we stay in tonight? I don't feel like going out.

He took a second to process what I asked, but then nodded as soon as he understood. As much as I was looking forward to a nice dinner out, I really just wasn't in the mood for it right now. I'd make it up to McKinley at some point, that I was sure of.