Chapter 21 #2
Gruene stands over Tyler in the dirt, blood dripping from his clenched fists creating puddles. He isn’t just angry—he’s dangerous. “If you ever come near her again,” Gruene spits out, “If you so much as think about her from a thousand miles away, I will fucking bury you where no one will find you.”
Reece races up, taking in the scene. He’s out of breath and on the phone. “Yeah, you should hurry. And I think you probably need an ambulance… no, not Gruene. It’s the other guy. Blakelyn is… hurt… yeah…”
Tyler coughs, blood pooling in the dirt. “She’s not fucking worth it.”
Gruene drops to one knee beside him. “You’re right,” he says. “She’s worth more. ”
And then, he looks up at me, I’m holding onto the porch railing for support.
My hip is in agony. My vagina is raw from the assault of his rough fingers.
I feel sticky down there and I think it’s from blood.
My face burns and my eye is blurry. His face falls.
His chest heaves as blood drips down his temple.
His knuckles are shredded. His face goes white as he looks at my thighs, and he falls to his knees in the dirt.
Reece looks from him to me to Tyler. Rage darkens his face and he steps toward Tyler on the ground. He stops.
All I can see is Gruene.
I see it, written as clear as day on his face.
The fear.
The guilt.
He thinks this will break whatever we just started to build.
But it won’t.
He protected me.
I step down, wincing and hissing through my teeth as I move to his side. His eyes widen. I take his hand in front of the man who once owned me… but not anymore. I kiss his bloody knuckles and whisper, “I love you.” He swallows.
Looking at Tyler, still lying in the dirt, I say as loudly as I can, “Come near me again, Tyler and I’ll put you in the fucking ground myself. You are nothing. And I do not belong to you.”
His eyes flash rage and hatred but I don’t care. Gruene’s hand tightens around mine and he asks, “Blakelyn are you okay? What did he do to you? Did he—did he… was I too late?” His voice breaks.
He thinks Tyler raped me… again.
I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. You were. And I fought him… I fought him until you saved me, Thank you, Gruene. You were right on time. You saved me, but for the first time, I fought for myself, too.”
His shoulders drop as he releases the breath he was holding. “Thank God. I wasn’t too late. And I’m proud of you.”
Reece also breathes a sigh of relief.
Gruene’s words fill my soul and for the first time in a long time, I feel unshakable.
Sirens race up the drive. Two sheriff cars stop, and an ambulance pulls in behind them.
The sheriff takes one look at me, at Tyler, and then, at Gruene.
He takes out his cuffs and locks Tyler’s hands behind his back.
He reads him his Miranda Rights and loads him into the ambulance while the other sheriff walks over and takes my statement.
I tell him everything, everything. He nods and says I need to go to the hospital to be looked over. I nod.
He asks if I need an ambulance, but I shake my head no. Gruene says he’ll drive me. I let him.
Because this time—I’m not running.
I’m choosing to stay.
Gruene
She hasn’t let go of my hand.
Not since we left the hospital after she got checked out.
Nothing is broken. But she’s already bruised.
Her eye is swollen, and she has a handprint sized mark that is purple on the edges across one entire side of her face.
Her wrist is sprained from where he tried to snap it, but she refused to drop the knife.
Her hip is also deeply bruised. She has microtears…
inside. She told the nurse what he did and what he threatened to do. They did a rape kit to be sure.
She’s battered but not broken. I’m so damn proud of her.
They also cleaned my knuckles and applied some salve and gauze.
And not once—not for a single goddamn second—did she look at me like I scared her.
But I’m scared now.
Of what I did.
Of what she saw.
Of what I almost became again.
I can still taste the blood in my mouth.
I can feel the way my knuckles split open when I hit his jaw… his ribs… his stomach… . I felt the bones splinter and I still didn’t stop.
I saw his dick out and the bruises forming on her face. I saw his hand wrapped around her wrist while she held a knife. I saw the blood on her thighs.
I thought—I thought I was too late.
I can hear her voice—shaky, sharp—cutting through everything when she screamed my name and asked me not to kill him… when she sobbed that she didn’t want me to go to jail… when she said she loved me after I almost beat her ex to death in front of her….
I didn’t say it back.
I want to say it back.
I should have… but I didn’t.
And now we’re inside.
And it’s quiet.
And she’s still holding my hand.
But I’m not sure I deserve it.
“I’m so sorry, Blakelyn. I didn’t mean to lose it,” I finally say.
Her gaze lifts from where our fingers are laced together on my couch. “You didn’t lose it,” she says softly.
I snort. “I threw him into the wall and off the fucking porch, Blakelyn. I broke his nose and his ribs and maybe his jaw.”
“You protected me.” She whispers.
“I wanted to kill him. I still want to. I hurt him.”
She shrugs. “I know.”
I blink.
Do the stupid thing, Gruene.
The hard thing.
The real thing.
“I lost it because… I love you.” I say.
I said it. I just told her I love her.
She freezes. I stare at her, waiting for something.
Smiling softly, she reaches out, cupping my cheek. Her thumb grazes the place where Tyler’s punch glanced off my jaw.
“You love me?” she whispers.
I drop my forehead against hers, breathing her in, feeling every inch of my restraint hanging by a frayed thread. I nod. “I do, but you scare me,” I whisper.
She stills, her hand pausing. Her brows furrow and she winces as her bruise pulls. “I scare you? Why? I don’t want to,” she says.
“No.” I shake my head. “ Not like that, Blakelyn. ” I pull back so she can see my eyes.
“You scare me because you make me feel like there’s something left to live for again.
You scare me because as broken as I am, as much of a shell as I am, you make me feel…
you got me to love you. You allow me to be capable of love.
” Her mouth forms an “o” and her eyes well with tears.
“And I haven’t felt that since the day I lost them.
I didn’t think I could ever feel that again. But I do… I love you .”
She swallows hard. “Gruene… I love you.”
I nod once. “I still hear them sometimes. In my sleep. In the wind.” My voice cracks.
“I tried to shut it all out, Blakelyn. The memories. The love. The guilt. Because living with it felt like drowning. But not remembering feels wrong. I didn’t want to love you…
because it felt like that was betraying them.
But I think—I think they would want me to love you.
It—it almost feels like they… approve ? Is that insane? ”
Is it?
Because it does.
When I have my doubts… their love fills me.
I remember it.
And it feels like they’re sending it to me to tell me it’s okay.
She leans closer. “And now?”
I exhale. “Now I feel like I’m breathing again. And it scares the hell out of me. That ’s why you scare me.”
Taking my hand, she places it flat against her chest. “You feel that?” Her heartbeat thunders under my palm. “I’m scared too,” she whispers. “You’re not the only one with ghosts. Gruene. But… I love you.”
I close my eyes, letting it sink in.
She gets it. She gets me. And I need her to know.
I need her to hear it.
I open my eyes and while staring into her amber ones, I say, “I love you, Blakelyn Walker.” It’s clear and I feel… peace .
She goes still again. Her eyes fill. Her mouth softly parts.
“I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was when you brought me a muffin even though you said I might hate bananas.
Maybe it was when you helped me with lifejackets and tubes and made Reece cry from laughing so hard at the launch.
Maybe it was when I saw you standing in the river in your clothes, completely feral and unafraid and absolutely fucking radiant.
” A broken laugh escapes her lips. “But it’s real,” I whisper. “And it’s yours.”
She blinks fast, tears gathering. “I said it first.” She chuckles. “I did. I said it first.”
I don’t move. I just let it hit me.
Every word. Every ounce of meaning.
I said it first.
“You did.” I smile. A real one. It stretches across my face.
She nods. “I did. I meant it before I said it though. I meant it when I let you touch me like I was something you could feel without breaking. I meant it when I asked you to stay. And I damn sure meant it when I stood between you and him and said I wasn’t afraid anymore.”
Leaning in, I kiss her, careful not to hurt her. It’s slow but fierce… like it’s the only language I still speak.
Our lips cling for a long time. Softly moving together. When we pull apart, our foreheads still together, everything is different.
Not because we said the words.
But because we meant them.
“I’m not letting you go,” I whisper.
“I’m not running again,” she says.
It’s done… no more hiding… no more pretending we’re not wrecked and healing and still scared of the dark.
We are. Both of us.
But we’re also here…
Together.
And whatever comes next, we face it.
Side by side.