So I didn’t.

When I didn’t speak, Tyra did.

“I like him. Your dad likes and respects him. He’s great with your little brothers, he’s actually great with all the brothers’ kids. He’s smart. He’s funny. He works hard and he’s loyal. Your dad says that if Dog or Brick wanted to step down as his lieutenant, he’d ask Shy to step up.”

I stared at her because this shocked me. That was huge coming from Dad.

She kept talking. “Says he’s loyal to the Club in a way that the recruits who didn’t live through what the other brothers lived through when your dad was cleaning up the Club aren’t because they weren’t tested. They don’t know how to be. Shy is, though, according to Tack. Shy’s all about his brothers, the Club, the family, so I’m not surprised he took care of you, Tab. Any of the boys would do that for you, not just for your dad.” She grinned. “Though, not sure any of the boys would put up with you singing a song from Les Mis. That shows your dad is right. Shy’s more loyal than the rest if he put up with that.”

I rolled my eyes.

She ignored my eye roll and asked, “What’d you sing, ‘Master of the House’?”

I rolled my eyes back to her.

“ ‘I Dreamed a Dream,’ ” I answered, and her grin faded.

Dad had never seen Les Misérables. Dad would never see Les Misérables. Dad got a funny look on his face when I told him Jason was taking me to see Les Misérables. To Dad, a man taking his woman to a musical did not say good things. When I told him, he opened his mouth to say something, caught sight of a “smiling-so-big-I-knew-she-was-in-danger-of-laughing Tyra, fortunately shut his mouth, and said no more.

But Jason had a mother and three sisters who were into musicals in a big way. They dragged him with them and Jason went, but he did this under duress.

But not Les Mis.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said, “I saw The Pajama Game when I was eleven and had nightmares until I was fifteen. We won’t get into what Cats did to me. But Les Mis, Tab, everyone has to see that.”

It meant so much to him I went, and I had to admit I didn’t get it through the first act. Jason had decided I needed to “experience” it, so he didn’t tell me anything, and since they sang all the time, even the dialogue, I couldn’t catch it all and I had no idea what was going on. Luckily, there were some kick-butt songs, or the first act would have been wasted on me.

At intermission, Jason saw the error of his ways, filled me in, and the second act rocked my world.

Dad loved me, but he was never going to listen to musicals with me.

Tyra loved me, and she didn’t care about musicals, but she listened to it with me in my car all the time when we were off shopping or to lunch or whatever we did.

She’d heard “I Dreamed a Dream” lots.

She knew what I was saying.

“Oh, Tabby,” she whispered.

See?

I flopped to my back, stared at the ceiling then moved just my eyeballs to her to see she’d shifted closer and was resting on a hand in the bed beside me.

“It felt good,” I told her, and she smiled.

“Of course it felt good, honey. Shy’s a nice guy who took your back and listened to you sing a sad song. It was what you needed and he gave it to you.”

“No,” I whispered and held her eyes. “It felt good waking up in his arms.”

Her smile faded again.

“Oh, Tabby,” she repeated in a whisper, and I put my hands over my face.

From behind them I said, “It was messed up, crazy, wrong.” I pulled my hands away, looked into her troubled face, and let it all hang out. “It was wrong, Ty-Ty. It was… it was messed up. I forgot.”

“You forgot what, honey?” she asked gently.

“Everything,” I answered, rolling to my side and getting up on a forearm. “Everything, Ty-Ty. I was crying when I fell asleep and Shy was holding me, but somehow when we were sleeping he tucked me under him, tucked me close, and I woke up and all I felt was warm. Warm and safe and loved and right. That was all I felt. All I thought. All that went through my mind was how good all that felt.”

“Is that bad?” Her tone was still gentle but now also cautious.

“Yes,” I hissed.

“How?” she asked carefully.

“Jason didn’t hold me.” She closed her eyes and opened them when I carried on, and I did so thanking God I could talk to Tyra about everything, “He was loving and he could cuddle but not, you know, in bed. He was a hug-and-roll guy. After we, uh…” I let that hang then went on, “He hugged me, let me go, then rolled away. He was sweet about it but that just wasn’t his thing. He liked to sleep in his space and he left me to mine. I’d never had that, not ever, not from a guy, not until I got it from Shy and I liked it. It felt good. No, it felt great.”

“Tab—” she began, but I was on a roll so I blathered on, talking over her.

“It gets worse,” I shared. “Even after I woke up feeling safe and right, it didn’t all crash over me. It didn’t come to me at all. I looked up at Shy and he’s, well… you know, everyone knows Shy’s really good-looking, but asleep, Ty-Ty, asleep—” I leaned toward her “—he’s amazing. So amazing, so handsome, so close, holding me, making me feel safe and loved and after he’d been so cool with me the night before, I kept forgetting. Kept forgetting everything and I, oh Tyra, God help me”—my voice dropped to a whisper—“I nearly kissed him.”

After sharing that, I flopped back to the bed, put my hands over my face and let it wash over me as it did every time I remembered it, which was often, dozens of times daily for six weeks.

Guilt.

Shame.

Betrayal.

“Tabby, honey, look at me,” she called gently, I pulled in breath behind my hands, then I dropped them away from my face and looked at her.

She was smiling at me just as gently as she was talking to me, and it hit me, not for the first time, not by a long shot, that I loved Tyra Allen a whole lot.

“I’m glad you shared that with me. Your dad has been concerned and even more concerned lately, thinking that something else was not right with you,” she told me.

There it was.

Proof my father wasn’t stupid and I couldn’t pull anything over on him.

“It was a betrayal to Jason,” I whispered, and admitting it out loud hurt worse.

She kept talking gently even as she grabbed my hand and squeezed, “It wasn’t, Tabby. It’s natural. It’s proof you’re healing.”

I shook my head but she squeezed my hand again.

“It is, honey,” she pushed. “This sucks, it sucks huge, so huge there are no words for how huge it sucks, and I would say you’re too young to process it, losing Jason the way you did when you did. But honestly, you could be a hundred and three and you wouldn’t have lived enough life to be able to process that kind of loss. Jason was a good man and he loved you. He deserves your grief. But he loved you and he’d want you to heal, move on, find happiness.”

I shook my head again and she dipped her face closer and kept going.

“I understand why you feel the way you do, but what you need to understand is that’s part of the process. Having those feelings, remembering you’re alive, remembering there are good things to look forward to. You’re young, Tab, you have a lot of life ahead of you. What happened with Shy is reminding you that life is out there for you when you’re ready. Those feelings you had with Shy are natural. They’re good. They are right. More so for you now because they indicate you’ve begun the process of healing.”

“I totally forgot him, Tyra,” I returned. “I totally forgot Jason for whole minutes, lying in the arms of another man. Worse!” I cried, sitting up and twisting toward her to see she reared back. “It felt… it felt…” I stammered, unable to get out what I hadn’t really even admitted to myself. Then I pushed it out, “Beautiful. Waking up that way with Shy… it was… it felt…”

Oh God, was I going to say it?

I was going to say it.

“Better,” I finished. I watched as her eyes blanked, hiding her reaction, and I knew what that meant so I cried, “See! I’m messed up!”

She reached out, snatched up my hand again, and shook it. “You are not messed up, Tabby. You’re a woman and Shy’s a man, a good-looking one who was there for you when you needed him, and he handled you with care. Your feelings are natural. They are beautiful. They are right. There is nothing wrong with forgetting. I want to be gentle with you, honey, I know you don’t want to lose Jason now, even only having him in grief, but in all honesty, you’ll get to the point when you’ll forget for days then weeks—” she squeezed my hand as my heart squeezed and she finished “—and so on. It will happen and that’s healing too, and you might not believe it but I do, I totally do. I know he loved you enough not to want you to forget him completely, which you never will, he’ll always be a part of you, but enough so you could be happy. I know that, Tab. I also know, God forbid, the roles were reversed, you’d want that for Jason too. Nothing, not one thing you did or felt that night was wrong or shameful. I don’t think so, and I don’t think Jason would either.”

I had to admit, she was right about that. Jason loved me and I loved him, and although it would suck huge for him as it did for me, if he lost me, I loved him enough to hope he’d eventually be happy.

“I get you,” she said softly. “I so get you, Tab, spending time with Natalie, calling a brother to take care of you, having the feelings you had. You are not doing anything wrong except being way too hard on yourself. In this time especially, my beautiful girl, you need to be gentle with yourself. Please, stop beating yourself up.”

Okay, I had to admit she might be right about that too.

“Okay?” she pressed, and I nodded.

“Okay,” I replied quietly, and a small smile curved her mouth.

Then she let my hand go but lifted hers to tuck my hair behind my ear before she ran a finger lovingly along my jaw and her hand fell away.

“Now, since I’m laying it out, what I say next does not take back anything I said before, but it has to be said. Shy is a good guy and he did right by you. What you felt was natural and part of healing. Going out with Natalie was what you needed, and when you felt the situation was unsure, you did the right thing and called a brother to take care of you. But I caution you, Tab, to learn from these things, how they went wrong and how they made you feel. I know you love Natalie, but I also know you know she can be trouble. From what you said, I know Shy handled you with care, but I also know you know how he can be trouble for a girl who’s lost something precious and may be vulnerable.”

One could say I knew that.

Tyra wasn’t done.

“I can’t imagine Shy would ever go there with you, but Shy’s Shy and everyone knows all the ways he is, the good and, for a woman, the bad. Don’t get mixed up feeling those good feelings you had with him or any man. Assess where you are and only move forward in that part of healing when you’re genuinely ready. Not going for that hit that is meaningless just because it feels good and makes you forget. Am I making sense?”

She was.

She totally was.

She was also right. Shy took my back and handled me with care.

But Shy was Shy, and that wasn’t where it was heading. I wasn’t that for him.

He’d made certain to heal the breach but that was as far as it went. I couldn’t really mess up and mistake it for something else.

“I made him cookies,” I told her, and she blinked.

“You made him cookies?”

“We played pool, we bet on the games we played, and he bet me for cookies. I made them for him. They’re in the kitchen. I also didn’t phone him for six weeks even after he was great with me and now, I… I… well”—I threw out a hand—“I don’t know how to face him. What to say. How to excuse the fact I didn’t call to say thanks or even hi.”

Her eyes moved over my face and hair, I saw something flash in them before she hid it, caught my gaze, and grinned at me.

“Shy bet you for your cookies.”

I grinned back and muttered, “Shut up.”

“Maybe Shy isn’t as sharp as Tack thinks he is,” she remarked.

“I warned him, he said he wanted cookies.”

Something else flashed in her eyes again before she hid it—again—and I gave her that play. I did this because when I needed my own head space, she gave it to me. It would be uncool not to return the favor.