The house is quiet.
Mom and Mr. Morgan are out at some couple's retreat dinner thing,probably drinking overpriced wine and planning their "new beginning."
Which means I'm stuck here.
With him.
Tyler.
I'm in the kitchen, raiding the fridge for anything edible when I hear footsteps behind me. I tense up, already anticipating a sarcastic remark or another unsolicited wink.
Instead, there's silence.
I glance over my shoulder and find Tyler leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted. Not smiling. Not smirking. Just… watching.
"You okay?" he asks. Simple. Direct.
I nod, grabbing the juice carton. "Yeah. Just starving."
He walks past me, opens a cabinet, and tosses me a bag of chips. "You left your phone on the couch."
I blink. "Again?"
"Yeah. And someone texted."
I freeze, the carton halfway to my mouth. " You read it?"
He doesn't answer right away. Then he says, "No. I just saw the preview. It was from someone named Brayan."
I nearly drop the juice.
"I don't know a Brayan," I lie, too fast.
His eyes narrow, like he's flipping through mental files. "Really? Because the message said something like, 'You really thought you could forget what happened with Brayan?' Sounded… intense."
I turn away, suddenly fascinated by the toaster. "Probably spam. Or wrong number."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
A beat of silence. Too long.
Then, softly, he says, "You looked pale when you read it."
I grip the counter. "Why are you even watching me that closely?"
"Because you matter."
I whirl around. "What?"
He blinks, caught. "I mean… you live here. You're...never mind."
He backs off, brushing past me to grab something from the fridge, but the air between us feels too thick now. Like something's been peeled back.
And I don't know whether to run or stay.
Later that evening, I'm in my room, pretending to study while my brain replays that damn message over and over.
You really thought you could forget what happened with Brayan ?
I close my laptop. I can't do this.
Brayan is supposed to be… done. Over. Left behind with everything else I tried to bury when we moved here. But apparently, the past doesn't go quietly.
And now Tyler knows the name.
Sort of.
I glance at the door. It's open a crack again.
Just like last night.
And I wonder,did he leave it that way? Or do I want to believe he did?
My phone buzzes.
Dan: You good? You've been quiet.
Me: Yeah. Fine. Just ghosts from the past crawling out.
Dan: Want me to slash some tires?
Me: Always tempting.
I set the phone down and walk to the window. Tyler's out in the backyard, shirtless again, of course, tossing a football up and down like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth.
He looks calm. Relaxed.
Normal.
Like he's never had a ghost claw its way through a text message.
I envy him.
But I also hate him for looking so… effortlessly okay.
Then he glances up. Right at me.
And throws the football once more high, spiraled like a challenge.
I shut the curtain.
By nightfall, I can't sleep.
Again.
Too much adrenaline. Too many memories.
I end up on the couch, flipping through that murder show from before. Episode two. Then three.
I hear footsteps.
Then the couch dips.
Tyler sits beside me, this time closer than yesterday. Not quite touching, but close enough that I feel the warmth of his skin.
"You're up late," he says, voice low.
"Couldn't sleep."
He doesn't ask why. Which I'm weirdly thankful for.
We watch in silence. Someone dies onscreen. Dramatic music. A secret is revealed.
Then Tyler says, out of nowhere, "You don't have to tell me what that message meant. But if someone's messing with you, I can help."
pause. "You want to help me now?"
"I always did," he says quietly. "I just… didn't know how."
I turn to him. "You bullied me."
"I know."
"Made fun of me."
He nods.
"Pushed me in the mud in front of the entire school in ninth grade."
"I deserved that karma for, like, a decade."
"And now you want to play protector?"
His jaw clenches. "I'm not playing."
Something inside me wavers.
He shifts closer. "I didn't know what I was doing back then. You got under my skin. You still do. But now I think maybe that's not a bad thing."
My heart stumbles. "Tyler…"
He leans forward, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth and back.
I feel the air change. Thicken.
Then the door creaks open.
We both jerk away.
Mr. Morgan sticks his head in. "Oh good, you boys aren't asleep yet. I brought snacks."
Just like that, the moment snaps in half.
Tyler gets up fast, brushing imaginary crumbs from his lap. "Thanks, uh yeah, cool. Snacks."
I stare at the paused screen.
My heartbeat is still racing.
The next day at school, everything is weird.
People are looking again. Whispering.
This time, it's not about the stepbrother drama.
It's because someone printed out a screenshot of that text message.
You really thought you could forget what happened with Brayan?
And taped it on my locker.
My stomach drops.
Dan yanks it down before I can move.
"What the hell is this?" he growls.
I look around. No one's laughing. Just… watching.
Judging.
Somehow, that's worse.
Dan crushes the paper and tosses it. "We need to find out who did this."
But I already know.
Not the who but the why.
Someone wants to remind me. Humiliate me.
Make me look unstable again.
Like before.
Like back when everything fell apart.
I walk away, ignoring Dan's calls, my vision tunneling.
This isn't happening.
Not again.
That night, I sit in the dark, curled up on my bed, phone in hand.
Another message comes through.
Unknown Number: He warned you not to lie. Now everyone will know what you did.
My stomach turns to ice.
Then another text.
Unknown Number: Bet your new "brother" wouldn't like the truth.
I don't even realize I've moved until I'm banging on Tyler's door.
He opens it, groggy, shirtless again. "Ben?"
"I need to ask you something."
He blinks. "Uh… now?"
"Yes. Now."
He lets me in.
His room smells like soap and clean laundry and something sharper underneath. His bed's unmade. There's a book face-down on the desk. A jacket on the floor.
"I need to know," I say, pacing. "If you'd still talk to me if you knew I wasn't perfect. If I wasn't the victim you thought I was."
He frowns. "Ben, what are you talking about?"
I stop pacing. "Brayan. There's a reason I left my old neighborhood. A reason we moved."
His expression changes tightens.
"I thought it was because your mom and my dad got together"
"No," I say. "They got together after. We moved because… something happened. With me. And Brayan."
Tyler sits on the edge of the bed. "Did he hurt you?"
I shake my head. "No. Not in that way. But I, he, oh God, I don't even know anymore."
I swallow. "We were friends. Then more. But it got toxic. He lied. I lied. Things spiraled. People got hurt. And in the end… everyone blamed me."
Tyler says nothing.
I wait for judgment. For him to look at me like I'm broken. Or worse,dangerous.
But instead, he stands.
Walks to me.
And pulls me into a hug.
It shocks me still.
"I don't care what happened," he says into my hair. "If someone's threatening you now, we deal with it. Together."
I pull back, stunned.
"Why are you being like this?"
"Because maybe I'm trying not to screw everything up for once."
We look at each other.
More like a soul Searching stare.
Then his phone buzzes.
He checks it.
And frowns.
"What is it?" I ask.
He turns the screen toward me.
A message.
From the same unknown number.
"You're next".