Page 80 of Nothing To Lose
“Tyler,” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Drop the charges.”
He lifts a brow, then shakes his head with a sigh. “It’s not my name on them.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. You could make it happen if you wanted to.”
“I’ve looked into your little threat from last time. The FCC?” He smiles faintly. “There’s nothing to find. I scrubbed everything. You’ll only embarrass yourself if you try.”
I clench my jaw, but I’m not here to bluff.
“There’s footage,” I say. “From the alley. From the hallway insideThe Nook. Security footage. It shows Guy hitting me. Twice. Chasing me down. Threatening me.”
For the first time, his expression flickers.
“You have what?”
“You heard me. Video proof of Guy Montague assaulting me. It might not keep Isaac out of prison, but it’ll change the severity of the sentence. And it’ll fucking ruin Guy and his father. Because I will absolutely go to the press with the footage, photos, medical records of what he did to me—whatever it takes to make sure they lose everything.”
He’s quiet for long enough that I think he has nothing left to say to me. Then, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That he…assaulted you.”
I laugh. A dry, bitter sound. “I tried to tell you. You brushed me off. What was the point in pushing when you clearly don’t take me seriously?”
His face is still. Unreadable.
“You treated me like a pawn,” I snap. “Like a whore you were trying to sell off to the highest bidder.”
His voice is sharp now, defensive. “That’s not fair. I never–Sex was never part of it. I only wanted you to give him a chance. If it worked out, it would’ve been beneficial. Good for our connections. But I would never have risked your safety.”
“And yet, that’s exactly what you did.” I don’t bother listing all the ways he let both me and Guy Montague think that what happened was okay, that he was allowed, or even encouraged, to disrespect and abuse me. All the ways he let me down, and made me believe it was my fault.
He looks at me, mouth pressed into a thin line.
“You are my son, and I only wanted what was best for you. It was never my intention to, to— I love you, Tyler. I would never allow someone to hurt you.”
“Did you even think to ask why Isaac did what he did?” I ask. “It was because he saw the footage. Because he saw the man who hurt me. Who berated me. Who threatened to rape me. Who left me unconscious behind a dumpster in the freezing cold.”
His eyes widen.
“Isaac saved me. He made me feel safe. He made me feel loved. And now you’re defending the man who tried to break me. So don’t talk to me about love. Don’t pretend you’ve ever been a father.”
I turn and walk out before he can say another word.
26
ISAAC
The apartment is quiet in a way that makes my skin itch.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, ankle monitor heavy around my leg. A steel reminder of what’s coming. House arrest. A temporary pause before the fall. Some people might think it’s a blessing—more time with the person I love, more time in my own bed, breathing air that isn’t filtered through a vent in a cell. But right now, it just feels like prolonging the inevitable. Like waiting for the hammer to drop while pretending everything’s fine.
Tyler’s not here.
He said he had errands to run, but I don’t buy it. There’s nothing he needs out there that he can’t order online or ask someone to bring by. No, he needed space. Probably to cry somewhere I couldn’t see him. He’s been doing that more lately—slipping away when he thinks I’m not paying attention. His eyes are always red when he comes back. And I get it. I do. But it kills me. This isn’t supposed to be his burden.
