Page 28 of Final Drive

“I know that expression,” he says. “I spent a lot of years learning how to stop making it. My parents meant well. Their expectations were still their expectations.” He closes the laptop with a soft click. “You shouldn’t have to do that on your own.”

I’ve watched Tyler from across a room for three months and read all that stillness as distance, as a man who processes the world at arm’s length and doesn’t feel it the way the rest of us do. I think I had that entirely backward.

“They’ll ask questions,” I warn him. “About the team. About us. They’ll take whatever they get and use it.”

“I can handle questions. I’ll give them answers that are true and worthless.”

“And if they’re cruel? If they start on Omegas, on the pack, on me being⁠—”

I can’t finish it. The word my mother used on that dock is still sitting in my mouth.

“Then I change the subject, or I tell them they’re being rude in the politest available terms.” Tyler’s voice doesn’t move. “And when we leave, I’ll buy you ice cream and we can discuss what terrible people they are. Or not discuss it. Whatever you want.”

A laugh gets out of me, watery and surprised. “Ice cream?”

“There’s a place on the way back to the house. Thirty-two flavors.” The corner of his mouth moves. “I’ve been looking for a reason to try the salted caramel.”

“You planned the dessert.”

“I planned the exit. The dessert came with it.” He looks down at the table. “People find that off-putting.”

I reach over and put my hand on his wrist. “It’s not off-putting. It’s actually kind of perfect.”

His breath catches, and for somebody that controlled, it may as well be a shout. He ducks his head.

“I should tell you this isn’t entirely selfless. I’ve been trying to work out how to spend time with you outside of team things.” His mouth tightens. “This isn’t how I would’ve chosen to do it.”

“You were going to say suboptimal.”

“I was.”

I smile at him despite the entire day. “Tyler Wu, are you asking me on a date to my parents’ ambush?”

“I’m asking if you want backup.” He meets my eyes, and there’s warmth in them I haven’t been shown before. “The date can wait until we’re somewhere your mother isn’t weaponizing the bread basket.”

For the first time since I read those messages this morning, I can breathe all the way down.

“Okay. But you’re getting briefed first. My mother has a doctorate in psychological warfare and my father thinks silence is a power move.”

“I was raised by academics who treated passive aggression as a love language. I’ll manage.” He checks the time. “I’ll get you at six-thirty. That puts us there without rushing.”

“And arriving after they’re seated.”

“It’s a small thing. They’ll be waiting on you instead of the reverse.”

“You’ve really thought about this.”

“I think about most things.” His eyes come up to mine and hold. “Particularly the ones that matter.”

I gather my books and realize I’ve been in this library for hours and my next class started ten minutes ago. I don’t especially care.

“Hey, Tyler. Thank you. For offering.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitates. “I’ve been told I’m not good at emotional support. I’m working on it.”

“You’re better at it than you’ve been told.”

My phone buzzes on my way out, and I expect my mother with another reminder about dressing appropriately.