Page 31 of The Space Between
He takes a step closer. “Been a long time, sweetheart.” His voice sounds sweet, but I hear the rage behind it.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Everything in me is trying to claw its way out through my spine as images of him punching me in the ribs, or the spleen, grabbing my hair in his fists and yanking so hard, whole clumps came out in his fingers, of him looming over me after kicking me in the vagina so hard I stopped breathing from the pain filling my whole body.
“Got your note, babydoll” he says, still feigning calm. “Cute. Real dramatic.”
The note I left on the kitchen counter… The one I couldn’t sign because I couldn’tstandto see my name next to his.
I finally find my voice “You shouldn’t be here, Tyler.” It’s thin… wrecked, but loud enough he can hear me clearly.
He smiles and my throat goes dry at the fury I can see beneath the façade. “Ihaveto be here. You ghosted me, Blakelyn. Took the damn car… disappeared in the middle of the night. And you left me anote. You owe me. And you’re going to get in the damn truck.”
I’m not. I will not get in that truck.
You will never lay a hand on me again, Tyler.
A low sound breaks from behind me before I can respond.
Gruene.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s him. I feel the heat of him even before he speaks. It’s calm. Too calm as he says, “She doesn’t owe you agoddamn thing.And she won’t be getting in your truck.”
Tyler’s head snaps toward the voice and the rage he’s been hiding breaks free, for a scant second, before he masks it.
Gruene steps out of the shack like he’s been waiting for this—forhim. Like he’s been building this moment in his chest since the second he realized what I’d run from. He’s in a plain black tee and jeans. His arms are covered in river grit and dried sweat. His eyes are dead calm. His stance is relaxed. But I see it… the coil under his skin.
Tyler sizes him up, running his eyes over the scars, before he scoffs. “Let me guess. The local charity case?”
Gruene doesn’t even blink, he just replies. “Get in your truck.”
Tyler laughs. “You think this is your business, river rat?”
Gruene doesn’t respond to the insult. He just leans back on his heels and says, “You brought it to my dock, city boy.”
“She’s mywife.” Tyler rages.
I am not your wife.
“No,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m not.”
Tyler turns back to me, eyebrows raised. “Funny. You sure acted like it for three years. But I suppose you were actually just mywhore.”
I flinch like he punched me, and Tyler moves.
Not fast. Not sudden. Just one step forward. Intentional.
Gruene notices. “I wouldn’t,” he says, voice low. “Not here. Not with her. Not while I’m breathing.”
Tyler sneers. “You think she’s gonna stay with you? Some washed-up river rat? She spread her legs, and you think she actually wants you now?”
My blood goes cold.
Gruene doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, but his hands curl into fists so tight I hear his knuckles crack.
“Stop,” I whisper. “Tyler, stop.”
He takes another step toward me, all hint of civility gone. Rage is pulsating off him and my throat threatens to close off.
I back up, swallowing, gasping for air in my fear.
