“You okay?” Tyler grabbed her hand and squeezed.
She nodded. He was trying to help, and she had to lay off him about his past. It was really none of her business who or how many women he’d slept with. The jealousy was misplaced and pointless. He still slept around a lot. That was Tyler. She agreed that in some ways he’d changed, but so much that he was suddenly the model of fidelity? That wasn’t likely, but it didn’t matter. They were here to stop Carlson, not rekindle anything. Seth had to come first. Tyler wanted to protect and help her; she needed to be grateful for that—and stop wishing that, maybe, they could have more.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Tyler ducked out of the sedan, climbing the steps up the hill beside her, heading for the door. He wrapped a beefy arm around her waist.
She sent him a rueful stare—but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like his protectiveness. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do.” And he clearly wasn’t going to budge.
“Eric isn’t going to hurt me.”
“Do we really even know him anymore?” His face tightened. “I’m not taking a chance.”
Maybe Tyler had a point. In truth, she felt more secure, and maybe Eric would dial down the volume on his ass**le meter if he knew someone would defend her.
As they reached the door, she knocked softly. Eric unlocked the bolt and ripped the door open, his dark eyes glowering in a newly tanned and freshly rested face as they popped back and forth between her and Tyler. His gaze settled on Tyler’s palm curled around the curve of her opposite hip.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Eric spit at Tyler.
“I’m not the one who told my friend to f**k my wife, then got pissed off when they both liked it. You cast her out onto the street when she was pregnant and you never f**king called me once to tell me she was going to have my son. What kind of miserable bastard does that make you?”
Eric flushed. “You don’t know all the details.”
“I know enough to know she’s better off without you.”
Del stepped between them. Clearly, seeing her with Tyler brought out all of Eric’s insecurities and anger. She had to try to soothe everyone’s anger or this was going to end badly.
“Guys, stop. So you’re never going to be great friends again. Fine. But let’s bury the hatchet so we can all stay alive. I’d rather not stand on the porch and scream out all our secrets.”
At her reminder, Eric lifted his head and looked around at the surrounding houses. He had to realize that Mrs. Morris next door, the crazy cat lady, was hanging on every word. Who knew if the perpetrators who’d broken into Eric’s house were nearby, listening.
“Get in,” he snapped, grabbing her by the wrist and hauling her inside. Tyler had barely cleared the threshold when Eric slammed the door behind him and locked it again.
Del eased from the foyer into the living area, sinking into the familiarity of the house, its antique rocker, the sleek leather sofa. The ceiling beams stained dark, their vintage pendant lights hanging, shedding warm light on the brick hearth. He’d kept all the modern lamps and accessories in brushed nickel she’d selected, which had been the perfect fodder for the house’s character and charm.
But the rest of the place looked like a tornado had hit it.
Broken glass littered the floor, along with a slew of papers in nearly every color of the rainbow. The globe on the mahogany stand that had once belonged to his grandfather had been toppled over. The drapes were strewn across the floor, a puddle of fabric and splintered wooden rods.
“Oh my . . . This is terrible. I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “How did anyone get in? You’re always careful about keeping the place locked up.”
“We’ll talk about it in a minute.” Eric turned his glare on Tyler, then shoved him into the kitchen. “Thirsty?”
They’d already proven that imbibing together led to trouble. “No, we just need to talk to you. Let’s sit in the living room.”
“Well, I need something to drink.” He shoved at Tyler again, who looked like he was itching for a fight, too.
He’d done some really awful things to her, like throwing her out when she was pregnant, but he’d been hurting and lashed out. Del felt a bit like she’d started it. He’d been fearful of never walking again, relying on his wife to stay with him through better or worse, in sickness and in health. Instead, she’d succumbed to his best friend. Yes, Eric had asked, but he hadn’t asked her to enjoy it so much. He hadn’t asked her to fall half in love with Tyler. He especially hadn’t asked her to get pregnant. At a time when she should have been focused on him and helping him recover, getting him past his anger at fate, she’d shoved him into a deeper pit of despair.
Clearly, he hadn’t worked through all those issues. And now, she’d brought violence to his door, then followed it up with a reminder of the breaking point in their marriage. Talk about a post-vacation letdown. He had a right to be angry—and her guilt kept piling up.
“It’s three thirty,” she pointed out, hoping to keep him on task.
“Which makes it past five o’clock somewhere.” He reached over her to grab a glass. “Wine?”
“No, thank you,” she murmured.