Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,45

the rear passenger seat. Together, they walk up the steps to my front door. A moment later, I hear a knock.

I swallow hard as my ears start ringing.

This is bad.

Deep down, I know Tyler sent them to break the news to me that he’s not coming home.

Because he can’t.

Because he’s probably sitting in a jail cell right now.

There’s a second knock, louder this time.

Feeling numb, I head to the foyer, turn the deadbolt, and open the door.

Beth’s eyes are red, her lashes wet with tears. Nevertheless, she pastes a smile on her face. “Hi, Ian.” She glances at Sam. “We thought we’d stop by.”

“Tyler sent you,” I say in a choked voice.

Sam nods as he ushers Beth inside and closes the door. “Mind if we come in?”

I step back and point toward the living room.

Beth steps forward and throws her arms around me. With her big belly in the way, it’s a bit of a challenge. “He’s being charged,” she says through her tears.

I tighten my arms around her. She and I share a powerful bond—we both love Tyler.

Sam watches us, his brown eyes radiating pain and understanding. Then he steps close and wraps his arms around me and Beth. “Have faith, guys. It’s going to be okay.”

My mind is racing, my heart pounding, and I can’t stop shaking. It’s happening. Everything I dreaded—my worst fear—is coming true.

All I can think about is Tyler in prison, locked in a cage like a common criminal. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Anxiety is choking me. “This is my fault,” I say, my voice breaking. “I did this to him.”

“No, you didn’t,” Sam says. “Tyler’s a big boy. He makes his own choices.”

We all end up sitting on the sofa, Beth to my left and Sam to my right. I haven’t known them very long, and yet they’re here with me—like family. “Do you know what’s happening?”

Sam shrugs. “Not exactly. Just that there’s some big meeting taking place at the precinct. Troy was called in. He gave Shane a heads-up on his way to the precinct building, and here we are to keep you company.”

I stare straight ahead at the fireplace. “Are they going to arrest him? Put him in jail?”

Sam shrugs. “We don’t know.”

As Beth reaches for my hand and links our fingers together, she gives me a sad smile. I can tell she’s struggling not to cry. “Don’t worry. Troy knows what he’s doing.”

My throat closes up as tears blur my vision. “Tyler can’t go to prison. He just can’t.”

* * *

As the evening drags on, I’m drowning in a sea of pain and agony. I can’t think straight. My chest hurts, and my lungs struggle to get enough air. I want to get drunk, but I can’t because I have two house guests. Babysitters is probably a more accurate description.

I lose all track of time. Sam and Beth do their best to keep the conversation going, but I hardly register anything they’re saying. Beth’s phone rings a couple of times—her husband keeps checking up on her. Cooper calls once to check in with Sam.

“Does your mom know?” I ask Beth.

She shakes her head. “I want to wait until we know something concrete before we tell her.”

I nod. “There’s no point in worrying her prematurely.”

It’s getting late, nearly ten o’clock, and it’s obvious Beth is exhausted.

I glance at Sam. “You guys should go. It’s getting late, and Beth is worn out.”

Beth straightens her spine. “I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.”

But judging by the concern on Sam’s face, I know he agrees with me.

As a car pulls into the driveway, headlights shine into the living room. I’m on my feet and racing to the window. My heart is in my throat when I see a black BMW pull up next to the Escalade. “It’s Tyler. He’s home.”

I watch until he’s out of the car, across the driveway, and heading toward the front steps. His tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone. He looks exhausted.

A moment later, I hear the key in the front door, and then it swings open. I’m there waiting for him, my heart about to burst out of my chest.

I don’t know which one of us reaches out first, but a moment later, we’re in each other’s arms, and he holds me tight and secure against him. His hand cups the back of my head, and we just hold each other.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck. “Thank god.” My