Chapter 2 - Olivia #2
My appetite vanishes instantly. Talking about Devin means admitting how stupid I've been. How weak. How I stayed even after the first time he shoved me into a wall. Even after the first slap. Even after it all got worse and worse.
"Liv." Tyler's voice gentles. "I'm not here to judge you. I just need to understand what we're dealing with."
I take a deep breath. "It started about a year ago. Little things at first. Grabbing my arm too hard. Calling me names. Getting angry if I spent time with friends." I stare at the empty sandwich wrapper. "I thought it was stress. His business was struggling. I thought I could help him through it."
Tyler doesn't interrupt, just watches me with an intensity that would be unnerving if I didn't know him.
"The first time he hit me was after Marissa's wedding. Remember her from high school? She got married last summer." I'm rambling, avoiding the point, but Tyler just nods patiently. "He said I was flirting with one of the groomsmen. I wasn't, but he was convinced. When we got home, he slapped me."
My hand rises unconsciously to my cheek, remembering.
"He apologized immediately. Cried. Said it would never happen again." I laugh bitterly. "I believed him. That's the stupid part. I actually believed him."
"It's not stupid," Tyler says, his voice low. "It's how they work. They make you believe."
I look up, surprised by his insight. He holds my gaze steadily.
"It got worse after that," I continue. "He started drinking more. Lost some big clients at the shop. Blamed me for everything." I gesture to my face. "This was from Tuesday. I burned dinner."
Tyler's expression doesn't change, but I notice his hand tighten on the water bottle until the plastic crackles.
"Has he ever..." He hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Has the abuse ever been sexual?"
My face flames with humiliation. That he has to ask this question. That this is what my life has become.
"No," I say quickly. "Not really. I mean, sometimes he wants... when I don't... but he's my boyfriend, so..." I trail off, suddenly uncertain.
Tyler's jaw tightens but he doesn't press. "How often does he hit you now?"
"At least once a week. Usually over little things. Sometimes just because he's had a bad day."
"Who knows about this?"
I stare at my hands. "No one. I stopped hanging out with friends months ago. It was easier than explaining the bruises. And Devin doesn't like me spending time with other people anyway."
"What about at work? Your colleagues must notice."
"I've gotten good at covering it up. Makeup. Scarves. Excuses about being clumsy." I shrug. "People believe what they want to believe."
Tyler is quiet for a long moment. When I risk looking up, his expression is blank, but I can see the muscle working in his jaw.
"What about his routine?" he asks finally. "Work schedule? Habits? Places he goes?"
The clinical detachment in his voice sends a chill through me. "Why do you need to know that?"
"Because I need to know when and where to find him. Without you being anywhere near."
"Tyler, what are you planning to do?"
He meets my gaze directly. "I'm going to make sure he understands that he's never going to touch you again."
The calm certainty in his voice terrifies me more than any shouting would have. "You can't just confront him. He's dangerous when he's angry."
A cold smile touches Tyler's lips. "So am I."
"This isn't a war zone," I insist. "You can't just—"
"Tell me about his routine, Olivia." Tyler cuts me off, his tone making it clear this isn't a request.
I hesitate, then sigh. "He works at his shop six days a week. Mondays through Saturdays, eight to six. Sunday's his day off. He usually watches sports at Brady's Bar downtown. Wednesday nights he plays poker with friends at the shop after hours."
Tyler nods, clearly filing this information away. "Does he carry a weapon?"
The question startles me. "What? No. I mean, he has hunting rifles at home, but he doesn't carry them around."
"Knife? Bat in his truck? Anything?"
I think about it. "He keeps a hunting knife in his truck. And a tire iron, but that's normal for a mechanic."
Tyler nods again. "Anyone he's particularly close to? Someone who might get involved?"
"His brother, Sam. They're tight. And a couple of guys from the shop, Mike and Drew. They sometimes go hunting together."
"Good to know." The way Tyler says it makes me shiver. Like he's planning for contingencies. Counting potential enemies.
"Tyler, please. Just tell me what you're going to do." My voice wavers despite my effort to sound firm.
"I'm going to have a conversation with him. Explain some new boundaries. Make sure he understands the consequences of ever coming near you again."
"And if he doesn't listen?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Then I'll be more persuasive." Tyler's expression doesn't change, but something dark flickers in his eyes. "One way or another, he's going to understand."
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm room. "I didn't call you so you could hurt him. I just needed somewhere safe to go."
"And now you have it." Tyler gestures around the motel room. "But this is temporary. The real solution is making sure he never hurts you again."
"By what? Threatening him? Beating him up?" I stand up, anxiety making it impossible to sit still. "What if that just makes him angrier? What if he comes after me worse than before?"
"He won't."
"You can't know that!"
"I can." Tyler stands too, his presence suddenly filling the small room. "Because he'll understand that if he ever touches you again, it will be the last thing he does."
The absolute certainty in his voice sends a chill through me. This isn't an idle threat. This is a promise from a man who's seen and done things I can't imagine.
"What happened to you?" I whisper, really looking at him. The Tyler I knew was serious, yes. Intense, definitely. But there was a gentleness to him too. A moral center that defined him. "You were never like this before."
"Life happened, Liv. War happened. Coming home to nothing happened." He looks away. "Learning what really matters and what doesn't."
"And what matters to you now? Your motorcycle club?"
"You." The word hangs between us, simple and devastating. "You matter, Olivia. Always have."
I don't know what to say to that. What to do with the emotion behind it. So, I deflect. "Is that why you left without saying goodbye? Because I mattered so much?"
His expression hardens again. "I left because I had to."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have right now." He checks his watch. "I need to make a call. Check in with my people."
Just like that, the moment is gone. The wall is back up. Tyler steps outside, phone in hand, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sink back onto the bed, the reality of my situation hitting me anew.
I've left my house, my relationship, everything familiar.
I'm hiding in a motel room with a man who's clearly changed in ways I don't fully understand.
And somewhere across town, Devin is going about his day, not knowing yet that I'm gone.
What happens when he finds out? What happens when he realizes I've run? The thought makes my hands shake.
Through the window, I can see Tyler pacing as he talks on the phone, his posture rigid. Even from here, I can sense the authority in his stance. This isn't the Tyler who left Hope Peak two years ago, uncertain of his place in the civilian world. This is someone who's found his purpose. His power.
It should reassure me. Instead, it terrifies me almost as much as the thought of facing Devin again.
Because whatever Tyler has become in those two years away, I'm starting to think it might be just as dangerous as what I'm running from.