24. Isaac
24
ISAAC
The second I hear the door slam, I know I fucked up.
I stand frozen in the bathroom, the silence ringing in my ears while I stare at the busted wall. My hands twitch at my sides, wanting to reach for him, to rewind the last ten minutes and take it all back. But he's gone. I let him walk away. Worse—I pushed him.
Panic hits like a gut punch.
I bolt for the front door, shoving it open so hard the bell above it clangs off-key. My boots hit the sidewalk. I scan the street, hoping—praying—to catch a glimpse of him. Nothing. Just strangers and traffic and the sinking realization that I’ve never been more afraid in my life.
I run back inside, grab my phone, and shoot off three messages.
Me: I’m sorry.
Me: Please come back.
Me: I just want to talk. Please, kitten.
The messages sit there. Unread. No dots. No nothing.
I snatch my jacket and tear out the door again, sprinting down the block toward The Nook . If he went anywhere, it’s there. He always goes there. I don't know what he was like before the incident, but since I've known him, he's cautious around other people and prefers familiar places. Safe places.
The bell above the café door rings as I burst in. Brenna glances up from the counter, her eyes widening.
"Whoa. You okay?"
"Have you seen Tyler?"
She shakes her head. "Not today. Everything alright?"
"We had a fight. I said something stupid."
She raises an eyebrow. "Color me shocked."
Before I can fire back, Anders emerges from the back room. "Isaac. Got a second?"
"Not right now. I need to find–"
"It’s about the footage. From the alley. You’ll want to see this."
Everything in me stalls. I glance at the door, my heart pulling me in one direction, but Anders’ typically playful, smiling face stops me. It’s serious. Dead serious.
I follow him to the office, where he pulls up an email with three attached clips. My hands curl into fists before the first one even loads.
The first video is from inside, in the hallway just outside the bathrooms. The audio is garbage with all the background noise, but you can still make out Guy’s voice, slurred and angry.
"You were eye-fucking that asshole–"
He jabs a finger toward the main room. Then jabs it at Tyler, right in the chest. Towering over him, I can see the spittle flying from his lips. Tyler tries to sidestep, rubbing the spot on his chest, but Guy grabs at him. His movements are sloppy, swaying as he tries to maneuver Tyler against the wall. He leans in, and I try to read his lips while I strain to hear. He's slurring pretty badly, but I think he says, "If you’re going to be like that."
He lunges for a kiss. Tyler dodges and tries to walk away, but Guy grabs his wrist.
Tyler yanks free and tries to get past Guy, but he blocks his entrance back into the restaurant. He looks behind him, then turns and slams through the back door. Guy follows.
Anders clicks on the second video, which is footage of the alley behind The Nook . Dim lighting, choppy resolution. Still, it’s clear enough to see Tyler step into the alley. He looks back over his shoulder and keeps walking. Guy follows, stumbling and wild-eyed.
The last clip is from the bookstore’s rear camera. It shows the alley from the opposite end. Tyler is backing away. Guy is yelling, pointing, dragging at his arm. Tyler yanks his arm back and yells, then pushes Guy away from him.
Then, Guy hits him. Hard.
Tyler crumples. Tries to crawl away. Guy punches him again.
The footage cuts off with nothing but Tyler’s legs in frame as he gets to his knees and tries to stand. He pitches sideways, the angle not letting us see why. Then nothing.
My breath shudders. My pulse is deafening.
I don’t say a word. I just walk out.
There's the vague recognition that Anders is trying to pull me back. Then a deep voice, probably Mac, trying to cut through my haze. I don't react to any of it. It barely registers. None of it matters. I’m already gone.
I don’t remember the ride.
Don’t remember arriving in front of a tall, white stone building.
Don’t remember the elevator.
I step out onto the executive floor of Valdin Law, Inc. and stomp towards the desk. The mousy receptionist looks like she might faint. Her eyes are wide and panicked.
"Guy." One word. That's all I've got.
She doesn't answer, looking like she's ready to drop to the floor and raise her hands over her head like this is some kind of robbery.
"Guy," I say again.
Her eyes cut toward the right. I move, stalking down the hallway in the direction she seemed to indicate.
I start throwing open doors. Voices shout, angry faces gesture. Behind me, security approaches, making demands and trying to get me to come with them. I ignore every one of them.
Then I hear it. A scream.
I don't think it's Tyler. I've never heard him scream like that. My brain comes online with a new directive, and I run to the last door in the direction the scream came from.
My boot flies out in front of me, smashing the door open. I burst through, ready to wreck whoever’s inside
I freeze.
Tyler’s there. Disheveled. Eyes glassy. Hands shaking. But he’s upright. He’s okay.
I reach out without thinking, needing to hold him, to say a thousand words I can’t form right now. I want to apologize, not just for the things I said, but for everything he's gone through. Seeing the after effects was bad enough, but watching it happen makes me feel sick.
Movement registers in the corner of my eye, just over Tyler's shoulder.
I see him.
Guy.
He's scowling, bent half over, bitching about something I don't register because nothing he could say matters.
Everything in me snaps.
"You son of a bitch," I growl.
Then I surge forward and punch him straight in the face.
His nose shatters under my fist. Blood sprays.
"I’ll fucking kill you."
If he planned to fight back, he doesn’t get the chance. I punch him again. And again.
I finally understand what it means to see red. Nothing other than images of Tyler break through, but they just fuel my fist, coming down like a jackhammer on that fucker's face.
My Tyler, unconscious on the dirty ground. Bruised and battered. Helpless and broken. Afraid.
It takes four guys to pull me off.
Hands grab me. Drag me. I hear shouting. Sirens. I barely register Tyler’s voice.
His crying face is the last thing I see before the cruiser door slams shut.