Thank you so much to everybody who read the first chapter! I kind of screwed around with the timeline of certain things for this one, like the Smash and Guy storylines. I hope you all like this chapter as well; it's my takeon what would have happened if Lyla were more invovled with the Guy storyline.
The next morning before school, Tim was sitting at the kitchen counter eating breakfast, while Lyla, who had come over early that morning, was lying on the couch, pouring over her trigonometry book in preparation for her test that day.
"I hate this class," she groaned, dropping the book to the floor. "I'm gonna fail."
"Garrity, please. I don't think you could fail a class if you tried."
No response came from Lyla, and he peered over, seeing that she had buried her face against the cushion.
"Did you get any sleep last night?"
"Barely," she admitted, rolling over so her words weren't muffled by the fabric. "I was over here pretty late," she reminded him, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks. He grinned. "And I stayed up for hours studying once I went home. I didn't go to bed until like, an hour before I had to get up."
"Well, if I did deprive you of your sleep, I hope you at least had nice dreams when you finally got it," he said playfully, winking. She laughed, rolling her eyes.
"Oh, of course."
"And did you even eat anything before you came over here?"
"No. I can't keep anything down, I'm too nervous," Lyla groaned.
"You have to eat something," he insisted, carrying his plate of waffles over to her on the couch. "Open up."
She obliged, and Tim fed her a bite of his food.
"Oh my God, you're feeding each other now? This is worse than when I walked in on you making out last night."
"Good morning, Billy," Lyla called cheerfully, without budging from the couch.
"Morning, Lyla."
Billy grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, pouring himself cereal, and gave a loud sigh when he opened the fridge.
"Tim. What is the milk rule in this household?"
"Whoever uses the milk buys a new carton, I know, I know. Sorry, it just slipped my mind. We've got time before school, I'll go get it now. Come on, Lyla."
"Too tired to move," she groaned.
Tim grinned, gazing at his girlfriend affectionately, and Billy was startled by how different he seemed; so much lighter now.
"You know, Lyla, I appreciate you making my brother happy and all, but this new smiling and laughing thing he's got going on is starting to freak me out."
"Billy, shut up. Lyla, climb on," he said to her, kneeling down in front of the couch.
Lyla laughed, practically rolling off the couch onto his back, and Tim gave her a piggyback ride out to the car.
Billy smiled as he watched them go, not even realizing what he was doing, and startled once he did. Old age was clearly making him sentimental.
"So…what's the difference between whole and two percent? Because they look the same to me."
"Two percent only has two percent of the fat in it," Lyla told him with a laugh, grabbing a carton herself when she noticed him gazing among the choices in confusion. "It tastes better that way. I have no idea why, but it does."
They quickly made their purchase, and Lyla grabbed the bag with one hand, lacing her fingers through Tim's with the other. He smiled at her warmly, raising their interlocked hands to his mouth, and lightly kissed her fingers. Lyla blushed, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. That seemed to happen a lot around Tim. The overwhelming emotions (as of last night, it was more like one emotion; happiness) she felt around him seemed to manifest physically, and it felt like her heart was going to burst, in a strangely pleasant way.
"Hey, Tim…" she began slowly, gazing up at him as they walked. "There's, um, something I wanted to tell you. I know what I said last night, but…"
Lyla trailed off when she felt a sudden pressure on her hand, and saw Tim clench his jaw and tense his shoulders as they came to a stop by the car.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, suddenly tugging her back and pulling her behind him, in a clear protective gesture.
"What? Tim, what's going on?" she demanded, feeling her heart begin to race with nerves. Whatever it was, it clearly had to be something bad to make him act this way.
"Guy," he told her quietly, nodding to a group of men exiting a truck and coming their way. "He's heading over here, along with a couple of his friends."
"Who's- the meth dealer?!" she gasped in horrified realization, now gripping his hand just as tightly he was holding hers. "You said he wasn't going to do anything!"
"Well, I guess was wrong," Tim said tightly, glancing back over his shoulder at her, instantly seeing the fearful look in her eyes. "Hey, it's okay," he attempted to soothe her around his own anxiety. "We're in public, in the middle of the day, what can he do? And I promise, I'm not going to let anything happen to you, alright?"
"I'm not worried about me!" Lyla hissed at him incredulously.
"Well, look at what we have here!" Guy interrupted as he and his friends approached. Lyla instantly fell silent, and kept her gaze firmly down on her shoes. "Timmy Riggins!"
He stepped directly in front of Tim, leaning against the truck so as to effectively cage him. Lyla fought to swallow the lump in her throat.
"What's up, man? What's going down?"
"Not much, I guess," Tim replied nervously, unable to even look him in the eyes. "Just hanging around, doing my own thing."
"I can see that," Guy smirked, looking over his shoulder at Lyla. Tim released her hand as he balled his own into tight fists, stepping closer to Lyla, like he was trying to conceal her from sight. Lyla could tell he was going to say something, and she gently squeezed his shoulder, hoping he would control himself. "You don't come around much anymore. Ferrets miss you; they're depressed."
"Right," Tim muttered. Guy chuckled.
"Hey, listen. Boys and I are fixing to go hunting. Grab some beer and come with us."
"Actually, I, uh, have some things I need to take care of," he replied vaguely.
"Really? Well, gotta do what you gotta do. Alright, man."
"Alright. You guys have a good day."
Hoping that by some lucky twist of fate, Guy hadn't noticed the missing money yet and had really come over just to ask him this, Tim turned to open the car door. Guy seized his arm, and he immediately let go of the handle as he found himself being pushed up against the door, held by his shoulders. Lyla anxiously twisted her hands together, feeling like she was going to be sick to her stomach, and glanced around the parking lot, praying somebody else would drive up and interfere. Tim caught her eye, and attempted to throw her a reassuring look, even in his current situation.
"Listen, Tim. I miss you, y'know? I'm worried about you. Worried you might get in with the wrong people. Do something stupid…" he trailed off. Lyla felt her stomach drop. Oh God, he knew, he definitely knew.
Tim was about to respond, when Guy suddenly reeled back and slammed his head into Tim's, immediately ramming his fist into his stomach twice afterwards, before roughly throwing him against the car door, leaving him to double over in pain.
"Tim!" Lyla shrieked, hysteric with worry as she instinctively jumped forward to help him.
"You!" one of his friends shouted, pointing at her. "Stay there, and shut the hell up."
Lyla froze and nodded fearfully, biting her lip in an attempt to stop the tears that were threatening to overflow as she gazed at her boyfriend helplessly.
"Hey!" Tim snapped protectively despite having to struggle just to catch his breath, her scared expression pushing him over the edge. "Don't even talk to her; she's not involved in this."
"Tim, don't," Lyla whispered desperately, eyes flashing around to the three angry men.
"Hey, since you feel like talking, why don't you go ahead and tell me where the hell my money is?!" Guy demanded, the threat in his tone perfectly clear.
Tim gave no answer as he simply struggled to stand straight again, and with an irritated sigh, Guy yanked a beer bottle out of his friend's hand, and smashed it into Tim's skull.
Lyla jumped as Tim crumpled to the ground, cradling his head in his hands, and clamped her hands over her mouth to conceal the sob that escaped her. Her shoulders shook more violently as Guy's friends laughed.
"How'd that taste?" one of them snickered.
"Now," Guy began, kneeling down next to Tim. "You've got to the end of the week, pretty boy. Or I'll shoot your knees off."
With a smirk, he rose to his feet, and began strolling back over to his car, followed by one of the other men. The third one threw his own bottle down by Lyla's feet, splashing her shoes with liquor, and fixed her with a leer before joining his friends in the car.
"Good luck with the game on Friday!" Guy called out the window, speeding off.
The second they left the parking lot, Lyla fell to her knees beside Tim, allowing the sobs to wrack her body as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, trying to assess the damage. With a groan, Tim lifted his head, and Lyla gasped when she saw the deep, bloody cut on his forehead.
"Oh, Tim," she whimpered, taking deep breaths in an attempt to not completely lose it. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," he grunted, pressing a hand to his forehead. "What about you, are you alright?" he pressed.
"I'm fine!" she exclaimed in disbelief, gaping at him. "Tim, I'm not the one who just got beat up!"
"It's not that bad, honestly."
The statement was made even more ridiculous by Tim clutching his stomach in pain, and Lyla shook her head.
"Yeah, right," she sniffed, reaching up to wipe away her tears.
"Hey, come here," he said gently, pulling himself to a sitting position and opening his arms to her.
Lyla immediately burrowed into his embrace and Tim held her tightly, resting his head against her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Lyla," he murmured. She frowned, pulling away to glance up at him.
"Tim, what could you possibly have to be sorry for?"
He glanced away from her, shrugging, and Lyla sighed. She knew Tim didn't have the easiest time communicating his feelings, and now was not the time to push him.
"Come on, we need to get you cleaned up."
Billy glanced up at the sound of the front door opening and hopped off the stool, rolling his eyes.
"Finally. How long does it take to get a carton of milk? What were you doing, taste testing in the middle of the…"
Billy trailed off as the two teens stepped through the doorway, and he saw his brother with his arm wrapped around his stomach, blood dripping from his forehead, as his girlfriend watched him carefully, keeping her arm hooked under his for support.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded, stunned.
Lyla practically hurtled the carton of milk at him, and Billy barely caught it before it slammed into his chest. She guided Tim to the recliner, and turned back to Billy.
"Guy and his friends happened. He came to give Tim a warning that he has a week to return the money, or he's going to shoot him in the knees. FYI, for future reference, this is why you don't steal from meth dealers," she snapped, glancing between both of them now. "And for the record, it makes me kind of sad that I have to tell you that."
Billy gazed at Tim, and was startled by the intense guilt that set in as he watched the blood trail down his little brother's face. Why had he let him take that money? He was older, he was supposed to know better; he was supposed to keep him safe from these situations, not be the one who got him involved in the first place.
"Do you guys have a first aid kit? Of course you don't," Lyla answered herself, practically the moment she asked it. "Um, I guess a wet rag will work. Can you get me one, Billy? Billy?"
"Oh, yeah," he snapped back to attention. "Sure."
He grabbed one, running it under the sink, and tossed it to Lyla. She perched on the arm of the chair, pressing it to Tim's forehead, as Billy anxiously began pacing the kitchen.
Tim attempted to catch Lyla's eyes as she cleaned up his cut, but she firmly avoided his gaze, staring at the wall behind him. He noticed her biting down on her lip, blinking rapidly, and he finally couldn't take it anymore; Tim lightly grabbed her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to look at him.
"Hey, Lyla; what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" she repeated, shaking her head. "Tim, you just got attacked and threatened, I'm scared for you. Believe it or not, people do worry about you."
"It's gonna be fine, Lyla."
"How?" she pressed. "How are you guys going to come up with two thousand dollars by the end of the week?"
"Uh, actually," Billy interjected uncomfortably. "Three thousand."
"What?" she demanded. "You spent the other thousand? Great, Billy, that's just great. Now it's even more impossible."
"We'll figure something out," Billy attempted to defend himself.
"Again; how? You have a week. If you're going to come up with a plan, you better do it now. What are you going to do, drive over to the next town and steal from their crack dealer?"
Billy sighed and looked away from her, and Lyla winced.
"I'm sorry, that was rude. It's just…we don't have a lot of time here, and I don't know what we're going to do," she said, stressing the word so they'd known she was in this with them, for better or worse.
"Lyla," Tim jumped in now, furrowing his brow. "Billy and I will handle this. I don't want to get you involved."
"Too bad," she responded shortly. "As long as you're involved, I am. Do you think I'm going to spend the rest of the week just hoping my boyfriend doesn't get his kneecaps shot out?"
Tim gave an exaggerated sigh of frustration, but Lyla held firm, stubbornly placing her hands on her hips.
"Quit your glaring, it's not changing anything. Now, honestly, guys, we need to figure out what to do about this."
They all fell silent, thinking, and quickly realized that none of them had a solution in mind. Tim glanced over at Lyla, attempting to muster up a smile and lighten the mood.
"Are you that against the crack dealer idea?"
"Alright," Lyla began, choosing to ignore that. "I have a feeling the two of you aren't going to love this idea, but…what if we tell Coach Taylor?"
"No," Tim instantly responded, not even taking a second to consider it.
"But, Tim, he could help!" Lyla insisted. "If he knew, he would-"
"Be furious and kick me off the team. The answer is no."
Lyla huffed, but happened to catch a glimpse of the clock before she responded, and her eyes promptly widened.
"Shoot, we have to get to school. Come on, Tim. Billy," she ordered, pointing her finger at him. "You keep brainstorming."
Tim and Lyla hurried out, Tim still holding the cloth to his head, and Billy buried his head in his hands the moment the door shut. He could brainstorm all he wanted, but he knew no miracle solution was going to come.
"Dude, I am telling you, something about that girl is not right."
"What girl?" Tim asked as he plopped down next to Matt at the lunch table that afternoon. Matt glanced up, chuckling.
"Landry's new girlfriend."
"I told you, she's just my physics partner. Besides, she's a nice girl."
"I'm sure she is. I'm just saying, I couldn't help noticing that she seemed a little strange."
"Well then, you were noticing the wrong thing."
"What should I have been noticing?"
"Hello! Tyra! Come on, she totally wanted to claw Jean's eyes out, don't tell me you couldn't see that. She still wants me, I know it," he declared. Tim snorted.
"Man, Tyra wants to claw everybody's eyes out. I don't know if that's a sign of a whole lot."
"Wow, thanks for the input, Tim. Oh, hey," he snapped. "Speaking of people wanting people, I'm pretty sure that guy who made out with your girlfriend is going for round two over there."
Tim whipped around so quickly that the rest of the group at the table were surprised he didn't break something.
He glanced around, trying to see where Landry had been nodding to. He quickly located Lyla in the doorway of the cafeteria, and sure enough, Chris was standing in front of her, his arm crossed over the doorway as they spoke, so she was unable to leave. Considering that Tim knew a thing or two about the subject, he could see that Chris was obviously attempting to flirt with Lyla, something that didn't sit well with him.
"Oh, great," Matt muttered, seeing Tim ball his hands into fists as his shoulders tensed. "Now Tim's going to commit murder in the same room where we eat our food. I hope you're happy, Landry."
"I'm not going to do anything," Tim said through his teeth, forcing himself to turn back around. He was trying to control his temper better, for Lyla, if nothing else.
"You're…not?" he asked slowly, surprised.
"No."
Matt and Landry glanced at each other in confusion, and Matt quickly changed the subject to the superbowl before Tim could have a change of heart.
"No way! They don't stand a chance, he…"
A few minutes later, Landry trailed off in mid sentence as Lyla suddenly appeared behind Tim and sat down next to him. Acting as if this were an everyday occurrence, Lyla began casually removing her food from her bag, until she slowly realized that nearly everyone at the table had stopped talking, and turned to stare at her.
"What?" Lyla asked uncomfortably, glancing around. "Is this a players only table or something?"
"No," Landry said, nodding to a few of the cheerleaders at the table for proof. "It's just, uh…don't you always eat with the kids from church?"
"Well, usually," she shrugged, before looking up at Tim with a warm smile. "But now I have a better reason to be here."
Tim grinned and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. He wasn't a fan of discussing his feelings; the only reason he'd been able to tell Lyla he loved her in the first place was because he had blurted it out unintentionally. But, something about the way she smiled at him sometimes gave him the fleeting (very fleeting) urge to jump on the table and shout how much he loved Lyla Garrity to everyone.
In spite of himself, Tim just had to turn and see how Chris was taking her relocation, and couldn't control his quiet snickering when he saw the boy sulking at his table.
"Chris doesn't mind you being here?"
"No," she said slowly, giving him a confused look. "Why would he?"
"I'm just saying, he seemed to have his heart set on you joining him for lunch."
"What are you talking about? When?"
"Over there, just a second ago. You know, when he was hitting on you."
"What?!" Lyla laughed incredulously. "Tim, he was not hitting on me!"
"Hey, I think I've done enough of it in my life to recognize it when I see it."
"Okay, Chris is not like…oh, wait. Are you jealous?" Lyla asked slowly, an amused smirk appearing on her lips.
"No!" Tim immediately replied, so defensively that Lyla instantly knew she had hit the nail on the head.
"Tim, you know that there's no reason to be, right? I chose you."
"I know, I'm not."
"If you say so. Hey," she changed the subject, not wanting him to make him uncomfortable by pushing it. "How's your head been?"
"It's fine. I told you, it's not that bad, stop worrying."
"Easier said than done," she rolled her eyes.
Lyla glanced around the table as she unscrewed her water bottle, and was surprised by the absence she now noticed.
"Hey, where's Smash? Doesn't he always sit here?"
Tim looked around as well, having also been wondering about that, and Landry raised his eyebrows.
"You didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Smash got arrested this morning. Coach is down there trying to straighten things out right now."
"What?!" Lyla cried in shock.
"Don't tell me it's because of what happened at the theater," Tim groaned, shaking his head.
"Yeah, it is. He got charged with assault."
"That's complete bullcrap," he said heatedly.
"Wait, what incident at the theater? I'm a little out of the loop here, somebody catch me up."
"Smash went to the theater with his girlfriend and his sister a couple of nights ago," Matt began to explain. "Some boys sitting behind his sister started harassing her. Smash told them to stop, they didn't, so…"
"He did what he had to do," Tim supplied.
"He hit them?" Lyla guessed. Matt nodded. "Well…he shouldn't have been arrested for that, but I don't think that's what he had to do."
"What? Why not?" Tim asked. She shrugged.
"If he had just left, they would have gotten out of the situation and everything would be fine. But, because he hit them, he's in jail now. Is that what you would have done?" Lyla asked him, honestly wanting to know what would have happened if it were her and Tim in that kind of situation, though she already had a good feeling.
"They were harassing his little sister and saying crap about his girlfriend. If anybody treated Julie that way, or said anything about you, hell yeah I'd hit them," he told her unapologetically.
"Have you ever considered that that kind of attitude might be the reason why you get into situations like this?" Lyla asked wryly, gently grazing his cut up forehead.
"Not really. Now I kind of am," he muttered. Lyla grinned.
"As long as I'm making you think."
A couple of days later, Lyla was curled up on the chair in the Riggins' living room, waiting for Tim to return home from practice so they could try to come up with another idea to pay Guy back. She had already realized that they weren't going to be suddenly struck with a brilliant idea now, and that even if they did, there was no time left to execute. It seemed obvious what they had to do, at least to her. Now, it was just a matter of talking Tim into it.
She heard a key in the lock and glanced up, expecting it to be Tim. Instead, Billy was the Riggins boy who walked in. Lyla smiled in greeting, and he returned it with a polite nod.
"Hey, Lyla. What are you doing here?"
"Just waiting for Tim to get home so we can talk," she answered, setting the book she'd been reading aside. "We've only got a few days left, so it seems obvious that the only option left is telling Coach Taylor. I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to make your thick headed brother see that."
Billy chuckled and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Lyla stood up and nervously trailed after him, fidgeting with her hands.
"Hey, um, Billy. I hope it doesn't bother you that I'm here. I know I've been hanging around a lot lately, and I wouldn't want to-"
"Not at all, Lyla," he interrupted her, brushing off her concerns. "A few days ago, when I told you that I appreciated you making my brother happy, I wasn't just joking around. Hell, as far as I'm concerned, you can move in if you want to."
"I think I'll have to pass for now, but I'm keeping that in mind as a future option," she replied, grinning.
"In all seriousness, Lyla, I'm glad you're around to look out for him now. He needs somebody to, and I've obviously been doing a pretty horrible job of it. And of being a brother in general, really," he sighed, looking away from her uncomfortably.
"Billy," Lyla said softly, surprised by how genuinely upset he seemed with himself. "You're not a horrible brother."
"My brother has gone from being homeless to being in debt with a meth dealer who's threatening to shoot him, in a very short amount of time. I'm clearly doing something wrong," he snorted.
"You're doing your best. That's all that matters," she told him firmly.
Billy opened his mouth to respond, but fell silent when they heard the doorknob being turned. Lyla turned around to greet him, but the smile on her face disappeared the second he stepped through the doorway, as her heart dropped in dread; Tim's face was covered in blood and littered with bruises.
"What happened?!" she blurted out, rushing to his side as Billy remained where he was, frozen in shock.
"What else?" Tim asked roughly, wincing when Lyla grabbed his face in her hands as she tried to assess the damage. "Guy decided to remind me that payday is coming up soon."
Lyla had been spending the whole day planning how she would discuss this with Tim, how she would calmly make him see reason and agree to speak with his coach. Unfortunately, now that she saw Tim in this state, and knew what a small example it was of what would happen if Guy didn't get his money, those thoughts promptly went flying out of her head.
"That's it," she declared in a panicked rush, feeling her heart pound anxiously in her chest. "We're going to see coach Taylor, now."
"No, we're not," he snapped, sounding every bit as determined as her.
"Tim!" Lyla shrieked furiously. "What is wrong with you? Why won't you just accept that we don't have any other options?"
"Lyla, Coach finally respects me, for the first time that I can remember. He actually seems to think that I'm worth his time, for once. If I go to him with this, or if we even go to the cops and he finds out from them, that's all gone! He'll kick-"
"He'll kick you off the team, I know," she snapped. "But you know what, Tim? You can't play football if you take a round of bullets to the knees! You can't play football if you're dead!"
"She's right, Tim," Billy finally spoke up. The teens turned to look at him, and were both surprised to see Billy balling his hands into his fists, clenching his jaw. He looked absolutely furious. "I'm not seeing any other options here. And it's for the best we do it this way, because if I see Guy now, so help me God, I don't know what I'm going to do to him."
"It is not that serious," Tim argued, furrowing his brow. "Guy can make threats all he wants, but he's not going to actually follow through!"
"He already had, Tim, twice!" Lyla shouted, motioning to his face. "You're in denial, and you're being an idiot. And if you won't do anything about this, I will," she vowed, spinning on her heel to walk to the door.
"Lyla, I swear, if you do this…"
Tim let the obvious threat to leave her hang in the air. Lyla gazed at him sadly, but Tim didn't apologize or take it back. Bowing her head, Lyla left and Tim took a shaky breath, sagging his shoulders.
"No, offense, little bro, but I think you just screwed up," Billy informed him tightly. "Big time."
Three hours later, Billy and Tim were sitting in the living room, silently watching TV. Tim had barely spoken a word since Lyla had left, and Billy noticed his little brother anxiously drumming his fingers against his legs, glancing at the door every few minutes in hopes that she would come back.
He finally got wish several minutes later when there was a light rapping at the door. Tim jumped to his feet, but Billy quickly did the same and grabbed his arm.
"Wait," he hissed. "Doesn't Lyla have a key?"
"She probably just doesn't want to come barging in after that," Tim argued, yanking his arm back.
"Just a wait second!"
Billy slowly walked to the door, peered out the peephole, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Lyla. He opened the door and Lyla walked in, holding a manila envelope in her hand. Tim smiled at her nervously, his silent way of apologizing, but Lyla didn't return it, instead just handing him the envelope.
"Here, that's all of it."
Tim frowned curiously, opening it, and raised his eyebrows in shock when he saw the large bundle of money.
"How did you get this?"
"My dad. I just told him it was an emergency and he agreed, no questions asked. You helped him out once," she said, recalling Tim giving her a hand when her dad had gotten drunk. "Think of this as his way of repaying you."
"Lyla, I can't-"
"Thank you, Lyla," Billy cut him off, grabbing the envelope. Lyla smiled at him gratefully, and he disappeared down the hall to give them privacy.
"Lyla," Tim sighed awkwardly, taking a step closer to her. "I'm sorry. I…I didn't…"
"I know," Lyla said softly. "But, I need to say something, Tim. Even if you really had meant that, even if you did break-up with me for this, even if you never so much as looked at me again for it, I still would have gone to Coach if my dad had said no. Because I love you."
Tim's eyes widened in surprise and actual amazement, as if he couldn't believe he was really hearing this. Lyla smiled nervously, like she was trying to reassure him this was real, and Tim grinned, feeling his heart begin to pound.
"I love you that much," she continued. "That I would be willing to lose you if it meant keeping you safe. I just…wanted you to know that."
Lyla waited for Tim to say something in response, but he didn't. Instead, Tim reached out and tugged Lyla into his arms, crashing his lips against hers. Lyla wound her arms around his neck, eagerly responding to the kiss, and gently laughed when he pulled away, feeling pleasantly light headed.
"Love you, Garrity," he quietly murmured against her lips. Lyla grinned.
"Love you too, Riggins," she responded playfully.
"Hey! Everything okay out there now?" Billy shouted from his room.
"Everything is great," Lyla called back, laughing. "You can come out."
Billy returned, still clutching the envelope like he was scared to let it go.
"So, Tim and I will take the money to Guy first thing tomorrow morning, and we can be done with this."
"I'm going with you," Lyla told them.
"No!" Billy and Tim replied in unison.
"Why not?" she challenged.
"It's too dangerous, Lyla. There's no way we're putting you in that situation."
"But that's the thing; I don't think it's dangerous, not for me. Guy barely even glanced at me in the parking lot, I don't think he cares. And, I'm not really involved with this; I'm not in debt to him, and so I think it'll be safer for the two of you if I'm there. Maybe he won't risk doing anything in front of an innocent witness, y'know?"
"I don't want to risk getting you hurt for a maybe," Tim argued, holding firm. Lyla sighed.
"You guys can't stop me from going. If you don't take me, I'll just show up myself."
Tim glowered but said nothing, knowing that was true, and Billy chuckled quietly.
"Well, no wonder you two are working out so well. You're both too damn stubborn for your own good."
The next morning, the three were all standing in front of Guy's door, preparing to give him the money back. Lyla and Tim were clutching each other's hands tightly, both trying not to display how nervous they were, while Billy kept his arms crossed defensively.
"Ready?" he asked them.
"Yeah," Tim said shortly. Lyla tried to answer as well, but the words caught in her throat, and she merely nodded.
Billy knocked on the door shortly, and Guy answered after a minute of waiting.
"Oh, hello boys. And girl," he added, his usual sleazy smile plastered to his face.
"Let's just get this over with, alright?" Billy asked gruffly.
"Hey, Billy. How you doing? Good to see you."
"Here's your money," Tim said quickly, before his brother could respond, handing him the envelope. "It's all there. We'll see you around."
Tim turned to leave, pulling Lyla along with him, but Guy shook his head.
"No, let's count it first, come on in."
"Look, if you've got the money, we're good," Billy told him, not wanting to set a foot in that house.
"Look, man," Billy chuckled, pulling his gun out and casually waving it around. "Just bring it on in. We'll make sure I have my money."
Swallowing roughly, Tim turned to Lyla, who was staring at the gun with wide-eyed fright.
"Look, why don't you just wait out-"
"No, she comes too. Now everybody, come on in and let's count this money."
Billy sighed and followed Guy in, nodding for Tim and Lyla to follow along and do what he said. Tim wrapped his arm around Lyla's waist as they did so, being sure to keep her close to him. Lyla dug her fingers into Tim's shirt, holding him like a life preserver.
Guy lead them to the living room, where a large group of his friends were lying around, most of them obviously already drunk, and began to count the bills. Tim and Lyla hung back, looking around nervously as they tried to just not be noticed by those in the room, while Billy stood in front of them, actually looking, to their surprise, downright protective.
Billy counted two thousand out and glance over at three of them, taking in their appearances.
"What's wrong, Tim?" he asked with a smirk. "You're looking a little depressed."
"Look, can we just get this over with?" Billy snapped. "Count the money so we can get out of here."
"Billy…" Lyla whispered anxiously, shaking her head.
"Hey, calm down, man. You'd think I wasn't the one who got ripped off here!"
"Oh, well, why don't you call the cops then, Guy?"
"Ooh, good one, Billy."
He counted out the last thousand and smiled, seeming somewhat surprised.
"Well, what do you know, it's all there."
"Great, let's go," Tim said quickly, as he and Lyla immediately turned to leave.
"Okay. It's taken care of, it's all paid up, and we don't owe you a dime extra," Billy said defensively, not following them. Lyla grimaced, and Tim spun around, glaring at his brother.
"Billy, let's just go."
"It's over with now, okay?" he pressed.
"I don't want a dime extra," Guy frowned, looking Billy over.
"You're not going to touch him again, you hear me?" Billy told him, digging his nails into his palms. Lyla gazed at Billy in surprise as she realized what was going on; apparently, Billy was feeling even guiltier about being a 'bad brother' than she'd realized, and he was choosing the worst possible moment to try and make amends and turn that around.
"I hope he doesn't give me no reason to touch him again," Guy snapped, rising from his chair.
"I don't give a crap if he gives you a reason, you're not going to touch him again, just say it!" Billy shouted.
Tim stared at him, stunned by his brother's behavior, and Lyla anxiously looked around, seeing Guy's friends all standing up.
"Billy, please, let's go," Lyla begged quietly. Billy was so focused on Guy, she doubted he even hear her.
"You need to calm down," Guy ordered, getting in Billy's face. "Tim, you better tell-"
"Listen to me, you fat son of a bitch, you're not going to touch him again, you understand me?"
"So concerned about your bother now? Oh, hey, how's Jackie-"
Billy suddenly lunged forward and slammed Guy up against the table, shouting at him so rapidly that Lyla couldn't understand a word he said. Guy's friends all began to rush over, and Tim jumped over, grabbing the back of his brother's shirt, frantically yelling at him to let it go. Lyla clamped her hand over her mouth in shock as the room rapidly descended into chaos, and tears of panic stung her eyes.
"Billy! Let's go!"
Tim finally managed to pull Billy off of Guy, just as the dealer grabbed his gun off the table. Tim instantly grabbed his brother and Lyla's wrists and yanked them down the hallway at run, managing to shoot a glare at Billy as he did so.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" he demanded as the three of them all tore out of the door, racing for the car.
"Just get in!" Billy yelled, seeing Guy and his friends following them. "He's got the gun, Tim, he's got the gun!"
"You're barking up the wrong tree, Billy!"
They all dove into the car, and Tim frantically turned the key into the ignition, swearing loudly when the car wouldn't start.
"Tim, come on!" Billy pressed him, seeing Guy come closer.
"I'm trying!"
Lyla stared over her shoulder as Guy and his group got closer and closer, Guy still waving the gun around, and clamped her hands over her mouth once again, stifling her terrified sobs as the tears spilled over.
After what felt like an eternity, the car finally started just as Guy reached the window, and Tim hit the gas, tearing off across the curb and onto the road.
As they sped off into the distance, leaving the house behind him, Tim felt his breathing slowly return to a normal rate, and turned to ask his brother what he'd been thinking. Billy was hunched over in his seat, gazing out the window and he chose to leave it alone, seeing Billy wouldn't exactly be receptive to a conversation right now.
Instead, he glanced up at the rearview mirror to look at Lyla, and felt a sharp pang when he saw her silently weeping into her arms as her shoulders shook violently. Tim wished Billy were driving so he could get into the back with her.
"Hey, Lyla," he said softly, getting her attention. She glanced up, taking deep shaky breaths as she attempted to pull it together, and he tried to smile. "It's okay now, everything is fine. It's over and done with."
She nodded and wiped her tears away, glancing between him and Billy with a weak smile.
"You two okay up there?" she asked, surprised by how meek she sounded.
"We're fine," he promised.
Lyla reached a hand over the back of his seat, and Tim took one of his off the steering wheel, grabbing hers and lacing their fingers together.
"Everything is going to be fine," he promised again.
Then he squeezed her hand, shooting her another smile in the mirror, and this time, Lyla believed him.
When they reached the Riggins household, Billy left to his room without a word, shutting the door behind him, and Tim sighed.
"What is his problem?" he muttered to himself, going to the fridge and grabbing one of the few bottles of water they had.
He walked back into the living room and handed it over to Lyla, who accepted it wordlessly, still rubbing her eyes. Even if Tim had succeeded in making her feel better, she was hardly over how close the three of them had come to being shot.
Tim gazed at her quietly, and the guilt he felt at the sight of her downcast eyes quickly became overwhelming, and he knew he had to say something.
"This is why I'm jealous of Chris," he suddenly spoke up, so softly that Lyla almost didn't hear him. She glanced up, surprised he was admitted to his jealousy, and wondering what he actually meant by that, and saw that Tim was firmly staring at his shoes. "Because as much as it kills me, I know that he's better for you than I ever could be. And it makes me wonder if maybe you should be with him."
"What? Tim, what are you talking about?" Lyla asked, so distracted by this unexpected reveal that her lingering fear was immediately erased. "How is he better for me?"
"Just look at him. He's a good little Christian boy, who spends all his time with the right kind of people, never doing anything that you would disapprove of. You two have a lot in common…I mean, you do the station together and all that. And you're happy around him. And then there's me. I constantly let you down and disappoint you, I constantly screw up. And I just got you involved with meth dealers, and put you in a situation where you could have been killed," he spat. Lyla stared at Tim sadly; she hated how self-deprecating he was, and how hard it was for him to see the good in himself.
"Tim, that's not true," she insisted, reached out and tilting his head up so he was looking at her. "How many times to have to tell you that you don't disappoint me before you'll believe it? Because I don't know how else to say it. And I'm happy around Chris the way I'm happy around…Jason, or I don't know, Julie. Like a friend. He doesn't make me happy the way you do, not even close. Also, for the record, you didn't get me involved with meth dealers. You tried to keep me out of it for my own safety, and I chose to get involved myself, because I love you."
Tim softened, and Lyla was relieved that he seemed to actually hear what she was saying.
"And that's another thing," she continued. "Does the fact that I love you and don't have feelings for Chris come into play at all? Because that seems like a pretty big deal to me. And, can I just say one more thing? Even if we were in some weird alternate university where I did have feelings for Chris, do you know how quickly I would get bored with him? I love you, and I'm happy with you, but you challenge me too. I need that; it keeps me on my toes," she laughed.
Tim smiled, and Lyla did the same, happy to see that he wasn't going to dwell on this. She wrapped her arms around his waist and Tim pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her hair.
"Hey," she said as she looked down the hallway. "You know why Billy acted the way he did, right?"
"Uh, no. I was actually planning on asking him what the hell all that was about when he decided to come out of his room."
"I don't think you'll have to. You know what he told me the other night? He said he thinks he's been a bad brother to you."
"What?" Tim frowned.
"Yeah, and he seemed to feel really guilty about that. I think today, he was trying to make up for it by defending you like that."
"That's insane, he doesn't have anything to make up for!"
"You know what? I think the two of you really need to just talk about all of this, alone, so I'm going to leave and let the two of you have it out. I know you guys aren't the most verbal people in the world, but I honestly think things will be better once you do."
"Wait a second," Tim said, not releasing her from his embrace when she tried to move. "We just pissed off a gun wielding meth dealer and his friends. If you think I'm not driving you home, you're crazy."
"Okay, you can take me home, but then you are going to talk to your brother. Got it?"
"Yes, mom."
Lyla laughed, slapping him across the chest, and Tim gently grabbed her arm as she did so, pulling her into a kiss. Tim smiled as they pulled away, looking into her eyes hesitantly.
"Hey, Garrity?"
"Yeah, Tim?"
"I, uh…" Tim paused. He didn't say this kind of thing often, and it wasn't easy for him to just say how he felt. She made him want to try, though. "Just wanted to tell you that you make me happy too."