It ended up that Billy was the one who drove the truck, while Tyra was squashed against the passenger side door, too busy watching and touching Tim to concentrate on the road home.
"This is his fault. I know it and I'm gonna kill him for it." Billy thumped the steering wheel as he accelerated around a corner.
"He ain't here." Tim's voice came out mumbled, his split lip swollen, refusing to stretch around the vowels.
"Well where the hell is he?"
"I dunno. Gone."
"Why? When? What happened? He hit you?" Billy fired off questions at him, but Tim had clammed up, his shoulder pressing solidly against Tyra's. His eyes were closed, his head tilting into her cool fingers as she tried to feel if he had any lumps under his messier than normal hair. "Guess I'll just have to find him then. Tim?"
When he didn't answer, Billy sped faster down the straight. Pulling into the driveway minutes later, he helped Tim inside then took off again. Tyra discovered he'd taken off in her truck when she heard the engine turn and saw the tail lights fade as she raced outside.
"That's just great." Tyra let the screen door slam as she walked back inside.
Tim was lying on the couch, curled in on himself, face screwed up in pain, one good eye following her around the room as the blood from his lip dried and cracked on his chin. She pulled an icy bag of peas out of the freezer and placed them gently on Tim's swelling blackened eye.
"Hold it on." She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the peas. Quickly gathering a washcloth and filling a bowl with cool water and hydrogen peroxide, she returned to the living room and pushed lightly on Tim's hip to make room on the couch so she could sit. "So this is why you came to see me at work? This is gonna hurt."
"I know." He replied to her statement, ignoring the question.
She slowly started to clean the dry blood off his face, not surprised when he didn't answer, instead holding his breath against the sting of the cheap no-brand antiseptic. "You should have said something."
"You didn't want to talk." His split lip snagged the washcloth, pulling at his skin as he spoke softly, flinching back before she could move it away.
"No Tim, it wasn't that I didn't want to talk to you, we were busy, but for something this important, I'd have been able to, I don't know…" She hesitated, "I could have gotten someone to cover, if you could have waited I could have done something."
He opened the eye not hidden beneath the slowly thawing peas but didn't say anything.
"Why would you do this, Tim? Why go back to that bar and pick a fight?"
She rinsed the washcloth refusing to meet his eye, Instead she scrubbed slightly at his neck, her hands shaking as she stared at his Adams apple bobbing when he spoke.
"Why'd you come?"
She shrugged at his rough voice. "Teresa called from the bar."
"Thanks." Tim rested his free hand on her knee while Tyra did her best to ignore it.
Rinsing the washcloth again, she lifted the hand holding the peas off his eye and efficiently wiped the bruised and scraped skin with a practiced hand. Moving his arm back down she put the cloth into the bowl and turned slightly, putting her back to him, refusing to look at him while he watched her with his one good eye. "I hate it when you get like this. I hate it. I'm glad he's gone."
"Sorry." Tim moved to pull her to face him, suddenly stopping and grunting, pulling an arm across his chest.
"Tim?" Tyra had turned again, her eyes taking in his pinched expression and the way he was holding his arm close to his chest. "You hurt your arm?"
"No, it's nothing."
She still refused to meet his eyes as she ran her hands lightly over his shoulder and bicep. He shrugged her off as her hands ran over his scraped elbow, pushing himself deeper into the couch.
"Leave it."
"Take off your shirt." She slapped at his hands when they fumbled on the buttons. "Here, sit up."
He moved as she guided him, slipping the shirt off his shoulders. She threw the shirt onto the table and squeezed water out of the washcloth, "Give me your arm, Tim."
Again she worked quickly, cleaning the scrapes of dirt as he clenched his fist against the sting of the hydrogen peroxide. She dumped the washcloth back into the bowl after checking there were no other cuts and pushed him to lie back again.
Her hands ran soft and cool over his chest as she continued to check him over, still refusing to meet his gaze.
He shifted beneath her hands, flipping the peas onto the table, ignoring them as they slid wetly to the floor.
"Tyra…"
She turned to him, staring firmly at his split lip as he pulled at her. "What is this, Tim? Between us?"
"I don't know." He shrugged as she continued to run her hands down his chest and over his stomach, his hot skin warming her cool fingers.
"Me either, but… I'm not wrong am I?" She trailed off, not sure if she wanted to broach to subject. "It is something though, right?"
"Yes… Tyra… I've missed you. I still miss you." His voice is low and intimate. It's not something she's sure she can handle right now.
She took her hands off his stomach abruptly, pulling away physically. "You know, a few days ago, had you said that to me, I'd have told you I missed you too, that I wanted you back."
"And now?"
"And now I don't think… I can't. You've been a different guy since we talked at the fair, but now? After the night at the bar with your dad and picking this fight?" Her hands ran up and down her thighs nervously. "Now you're that guy I was dating before. And I don't want that guy any more. I don't want to be that girl any more either, it was too hard, Tim."
"My dad ain't coming back, Tyra."
"I know. But, what if… I just don't know."
He pulled her down to lay beside him on the couch, hissing as he tried to get comfortable. He moved onto his side to spoon her from behind. "We've been spending some time together lately, it's been good right?"
"Yeah." She smiled. "It's been fun. Mostly. When your dad wasn't with us."
"Yeah. Would be funner if we got naked some of those times." He laughed when she slapped his thigh. "You really like hanging with the coach's kid?"
"Julie? Yeah, she's nice. A little naïve, but I like that about her." Tyra let herself relax into the warmth of Tim behind her, the hand still on his thigh gripped him lightly. "There's no pressure with her to be anything but who I am. At least, not from her."
She could feel Tim nod behind her, his chin rubbing the back of her head. "I think we should get back together."
"I want to say yes, I really do." She spoke softly, not surprised by his abrupt topic changes.
"You still think it'd make you a hypocrite?" Tim weaved his fingers with hers, resting their hands on the couch in front of her.
"No."
"So say yes and be my girl again."
She can feel the words as much as hear them, spoken into the back of her neck.
"Will you make me a promise?" Tyra closed her eyes.
"What?" She can hear the maybe in his tone.
"No more drinking every day. No more fighting all the time." She spoke with her eyes still shut, picturing the reaction she wanted most. And the one she feared most.
"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." His soft spoken words blew his hot breath against her skin, his reaction more and less than what she expected all at once.
Tyra rolled over, turning to face him. She met his eyes for the first time since they'd been home. "Then okay, yes, I'm your girl again."