Chapter 95 TYLER
“What the fuck—”
That was all Sam got out before my fist hit him.
He stumbled back with a curse, socked feet skidding across the porch as he slammed into the half-open door. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed when he realized who was standing in front of him.
“Are you kidding me?” he snapped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You got a death wish or something?”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my blood rushing. Every image I’d been trying to shove down came back all at once. Harper’s neck. Her cheek. The way she’d begged me not to react. The way she’d sounded like she was barely surviving instead of living.
Sam straightened, rolling his shoulders like this was funny. Like this was just another night.
“You got one good arm, man,” he said, smirking. “You really wanna do this?”
That did it.
I lunged at him again, my shoulder screaming in protest as my body twisted. I ignored it. I drove my elbow straight into his chest, sending him back hard enough that he slammed into the door again.
He grunted but recovered fast, swinging at my face. His fist clipped my mouth, splitting my lip, and for a second the taste of blood filled my mouth.
Harper screamed my name.
“Tyler, stop!” she yelled. “Please!”
I didn’t listen.
Sam laughed, breathless and wild. “That all you got? Thought Westfield boys were tougher than that.”
I hit him again.
My knuckles exploded with pain as they connected with his jaw, but I barely felt it. I fisted his shirt and shoved him off the porch, both of us stumbling into the yard. He swung back, landing a solid punch to my ribs that made me gasp.
“Fuck,” I muttered, staggering.
“There it is,” Sam said, grinning. “Knew you weren’t that tough.”
I rushed him before he could land another hit, slamming into him with my shoulder and knocking him flat onto the snow. He cursed, scrambling to get up, but I was already on him, straddling his chest, cold seeping through my jeans.
I swung down again and again, my fist connecting with his face, his collarbone, anywhere I could reach. My hand screamed in protest, bones aching, skin splitting, but I didn’t stop.
“Get up,” I snarled. “Come on. You’re so good at hitting women, huh? Hit me. Come on, I dare you!”
He tried to buck me off, landing a punch to my side that knocked the air out of my lungs. I hissed, vision flashing white for a second, then grabbed his shirt and slammed him back down.
“You like power?” I shouted. “You like scaring people smaller than you?”
“Fuck you,” he spat, blood spraying from his mouth.
I hit him again.
“And you live in her house,” I continued, breath ragged. “You think that gives you the right?”
My fist came down harder this time, my hand numb now, pain spreading up my arm. I didn’t care. I wanted him to feel every ounce of fear he’d put into her.
Sam groaned, his hands weakly pushing at my chest. “She’s a liar,” he slurred. “She’s full of shit.”
I saw red.
I grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head into the ground, once, twice. My shoulder flared with agony, but I bit it back, leaning closer to his face.
“Say her name again,” I growled. “Say anything about her.”
His eyes flicked past me.
“Tyler,” Harper cried. “Stop. Please. You’re gonna kill him.”
Her voice cut through the noise like cold water. My fist froze midair.
I looked up at her.
She was standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself, shaking. Tears streaked down her face, panic written all over her. Not fear for him. Fear for me.
That broke something in my chest.
I let go of Sam, shoving him back hard enough that he rolled onto his side, coughing and choking. I stood slowly, every part of me throbbing now that the adrenaline was fading.
Sam groaned, curling in on himself. His face was already swelling, blood smeared across his mouth and chin.
I stepped closer, towering over him.
“This isn’t over,” I said, voice low. “You hear me?”
He looked up, eyes glassy.
“You touch her again,” I continued, “you even look at her wrong, and I finish this somewhere with witnesses.”
He tried to laugh, but it came out like a wheeze.
“You think you scare me?” he muttered.
I leaned down, close enough that only he could hear me.
“By tomorrow,” I said, “you’re gone. Out of this house. If you’re still here when we're back, I go to the cops. I show them her bruises. I tell them everything. And I won’t stop until you’re locked up.”
His smile vanished.
“You won’t,” he said weakly.
I smiled back, slow and cold. “Try me.”
I straightened and turned away from him, my body finally catching up to what I’d just done. My hand throbbed violently, knuckles split and swollen. My lip burned. My ribs ached with every breath.
Harper rushed toward me.
“Tyler,” she said, voice shaking. “Your hand. Oh my God, your hand.”
I grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her toward the car. “You’re coming with me.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She didn’t fight me.
I got her into the passenger seat and slid in behind the wheel, hands trembling as I started the engine. My chest rose and fell too fast, my vision still buzzing.
“I’m sorry,” I said after a moment. “I ruined it. I shouldn't have—”
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “Your hand is bleeding. You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she snapped, pressing her hand to my knuckles on the wheel. “Look at this. You’ve barely healed from the last fight and now you did this.”
Her voice cracked.
“You always do this,” she cried. “You keep getting hurt because of me.”
I clenched my jaw. “That’s not true.”
“Yes it is,” she said, her frustration pouring out. “You get dragged into my mess. You fight my battles. You’re the one bleeding now.”
She broke down then, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. I don’t want you in jail. I don’t want to ruin your life.”
My chest ached worse than my hand.
I pulled out of the road, parking the car as I reached over with my good arm and drew her against me, careful not to jostle her injuries. She collapsed into me, crying into my shoulder.
“Hey,” I murmured. “Look at me.”
She pulled back slowly, eyes red and swollen.
“This isn’t ruining my life,” I said quietly. “Losing you would.”
She stared at me, breath hitching.
“I know you have a boyfriend,” I continued. “I know I shouldn’t say this. I know it complicates everything.”
I swallowed.
“But I'm in love with you, Harper,” I said. “And when it comes to you, I don’t think straight. I don’t care about consequences. I don’t care what it costs me.”
Her lips parted in shock.
“I’ll protect you,” I went on. “Every time. Every single time. Even if it puts me in prison. Even if it wrecks me. I don’t know how to not feel this way.”
Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t pull away.
“You shouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I already do.”
She pressed her forehead to mine, breathing uneven.
For the first time since she arrived, she didn’t look alone.
And I didn’t regret a single punch.