American Sweethearts

39

I snuggle up beneath the blanket, nuzzling into the couch pillows. I've been here all morning, just watching the minutes tick by.

"I'm sorry, sis, there's nothing I can do," Quinn tells me, her voice sounding through the phone.

"Nothing at all?"

"I tried," she sighs. "I can't even get in contact with the captain. I don't have that kind of power yet."

"Please, Quinn," I beg.

"There's nothing I can do."

I sigh, sinking further into the couch. I'd hoped she could tell me something about Tyler. I thought there'd be some information in their system, but I guess I was wrong.

"That's okay," I tell her. "I'll just... wait."

That's all I've been doing. Sitting on the couch, listening to The Shins, hoping Tyler and Owen will walk through the door. Or at least send me a text message. But I haven't received anything. Not a single update.

They've been gone all night. Lena came home after I called her, but she had to leave this morning to meet with someone for a group presentation.

She helped distract me a lot last night. She told me over and over again how proud she was that I fought off a panic attack. I'm proud, too. Last time I was able to do that, I was on a high dose of medication and felt practically numb to all emotions. My current meds might not help as much, but at least I can still feel something. Maybe a bit too much, even.

I'm not even sure how I managed to do it. My anxiety was so high, I could feel the panic coming. But if I panicked, I wouldn't be able to help Tyler. And that's all I cared about. I had to do something. Seeing him in those handcuffs scared me to death. He's probably been in them a million times before, but it made me realise who I'm really dealing with.

A criminal. A criminal with a giant police record. He'd fit in perfectly in jail. A tattooed boy, tall enough to intimate anyone, and strong enough to break bones.

But he's not just any criminal. He's a criminal with a troubled past, who cares for me. Who's risked his freedom for me. Who's fought people for me. Who's helped me. A criminal who I can't help but be drawn to.

Am I rationalising? Probably. But I can't help but see him as more than just a criminal. To me, he's far from. He may have broken the law a few times, but calling him a criminal feels wrong.

"I'm going to make breakfast," I tell my sister. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Wait, Sarah," she stops me. "Please, just, be careful around him, okay? I don't like him."

"I will," I nod. How could I not?

"Stay safe, and I love you."

"Love you too, bye bye!"

I hang up the phone, letting it drop down on my chest. I could really use a strawberry milkshake right now.

I slide off the couch. I feel like a big blob of nothingness. I've barely slept at all and I can't stop thinking about Tyler. The way he looked when they took him away... I just... I hate it.

I drag my feet into the kitchen, grabbing a cup to make myself a milkshake. I pull the fridge door open, reaching for the carton of milk. I wish they sold tasty strawberry milkshakes at the grocery store, but they're all so gross. I should start my own business, just to make strawberry milkshakes more easily accessible.

I place all the ingredients onto the counter, and grab the blender. Lena was smart enough to buy it when we first moved in here, knowing I drink at least one milkshake a day. Besides, having my own blender is far better than having to use Tyler and Owens protein blender. I don't know how they drink that stuff. It's disgusting.