Chapter Thirteen
The door flew open with a bang.
Abbi thought it was over, there was nothing she could do. Russ was going to take his anger out on every single part of her office.
And then he was going to take it out on her.
Until all of a sudden Tyler was there, throwing himself between her and Russ, shouting, “What the fuck is going on?”
He was pure muscle, pure presence.
Pure rage.
She hadn’t known he was in the building. All she’d been thinking was that she wished Walker hadn’t written back so late, when no one was around.
She’d only meant to shake things up. Show Tyler she wasn’t about to roll over and play dead just because he had a smooth tongue and knew how to use it. Especially when it was clear he’d come back from their weekend together more certain than ever that his plans were going through.
But a pause on the entire firebreak? She’d started off elated. She could take this information and run with it, start an endangered species petition and make a formal case to the government for why the firebreak had to be stopped. It would give her something concrete to bring to the hiring committee to prove she was ready to move up at the center.
But then Russ stormed in.
Abbi had sent a man to jail when she was sixteen. Then she’d turned around, faced the judgment of her family, her friends, and her school, and kept right on living.
She did what she wanted, when she wanted. She didn’t cry just because some asshole threw a tantrum in her office.
Or maybe she didn’t know herself as well as she’d thought, because tonight, she’d been terrified.
“Leave.”
Tyler’s voice was like nothing she’d ever heard. Certainly nothing she thought was capable of coming from his mouth.
This wasn’t the man who’d kissed her nose and called her Blue and paid attention to how she took her coffee. This wasn’t even the man who’d pinned her down and thrust deeply inside.
This was a man she’d never met, one who saw danger and ran right toward it, fists clenched, eyes blazing with their own kind of flame.
“Get the fuck out of here, Russ,” Tyler snarled. “Don’t even dream of contacting Abbi again.”
He wasn’t faking it. There was nothing in his voice that said he was stepping in just for show. He meant every word he was saying.
Some part of Abbi couldn’t believe it worked. But of course all Tyler had to do was puff up his chest and get growly, when the same thing from Abbi had zero effect.
Russ was leaving. He was actually leaving. But before he did, he used his boot to prop open the door. “Nice job getting loverboy to do your dirty work for you,” he sneered at Abbi.
Then he turned to Tyler. “It’s not worth it, man. This firebreak doesn’t go through, it fucks up your job, too. And you know that no matter what, she’s just going to throw you away like she always does.”
He shook his head as though they were suddenly buds, two dudes commiserating over how they’d been burned.
But Tyler wasn’t anything like him.
“Fuck off,” he growled, and slammed the door in Russ’s face.
They waited, breathing hard into the heavy silence, listening to Russ’s footsteps ringing down the hall. After a moment, the front door to the building banged open and shut. Abbi gestured for Tyler to follow. But he folded his arms and stared.
“I’m not leaving you alone right now,” he said.
“Fuck you, too, Tyler,” she spat, turning away.
He looked stunned, but she was shaking and couldn’t stop herself from saying it.
Because Russ had been right. What was wrong with her, acting like everything was peachy now that her fireman was here to save her? Hadn’t she learned her lesson not to let anyone control her this way?
He wasn’t even her boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to her.
Tyler dropped his arms. “I know you’re going to tell me you were fine, Abbi. But look at this place. Nothing about that was fine.”
Russ had thrown a metal chair against the bookshelf. Books littered the floor, covers bent from the fall. Thankfully the bookshelf was still standing. Thankfully Russ hadn’t targeted something softer, more breakable. Like her.
Tears smarted behind Abbi’s eyes. She took a deep breath and blinked them back. “You said you weren’t going to do that anymore.”
“I don’t care what you say, Abbi. I’m not going to turn the other way when he’s threatening you.”
“And you wonder why I might not be thrilled to have you swoop in when you tell me you don’t give a shit what I say?”
He threw up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Do the words ‘I don’t care what you say’ mean something different to you?”
He was around the desk and by her side in an instant. “I care about everything you say, Abbi. I care about you. That’s why I’m so angry. Especially when this is only getting worse.”
She twisted out of his reach. “I don’t want to owe you.”
“Come on, Abbi. Is that what this is about? There’s no scorecard. You’re not stuck on a repayment plan.”
She slumped against the desk. All the fight was leaving her body. She was angry with Russ, not Tyler. And she was angry with herself.
“If you really mean that, then don’t leave,” she said quietly. “I haven’t heard Russ’s car yet.”
She hated herself for saying it, for the way she was using him. But he lifted her chin so she was looking in his eyes when he said, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”
They were supposed to be faking it when everyone else was around, because they were in too deep to come clean.
But no one was watching them now. Only Tyler’s hand was still stroking her jaw. And she was still aching for more.
“I don’t—” she started, and his hand stopped caressing her cheek.
“What?” he whispered when she couldn’t go on.
“I don’t want to have to fuck you as some way to say thank you.”
Oh, God. How had she said that when a simple I don’t think we should do this anymore would suffice?
“Abbi.” He pulled back to stare at her. “What could possibly make you think I’d expect that?”
She looked away, embarrassed. Tyler thought she was a fool.
What had happened for those sixteen months in high school, when everything felt sharp and alive with such dizzying risk—all of that was Cash’s fault. Adult Abbi knew that. The law sure as hell had decided that, too.
And yet—
She couldn’t say she’d hated every second of those sixteen months before Cash was taken away. She couldn’t say she hadn’t been excited sometimes to know that she alone could make a grown man tremble, make him do such incredible things.
She’d even believed, for a time, that she was better than all the other girls at school, because she was the one he chose. What we have is so special, Cash used to say as he slid a finger down her white cotton underwear with tiny pink dots, the kind her mom bought in jumbo packs and sent her off with for the school year. No one else will ever understand.
And hadn’t she let him do that? When he drove her to the airport in Boston that first time and asked if she was going to miss him over Christmas, hadn’t she been the one to reach over and put her hand in his?
It was her fault that the line had been crossed. That he’d taken that same hand and drawn it to the bulge against his zipper. His proof, he said, of how much he was going to miss her.
Boston was far, he had a lot of work to do, yet he was doing her this favor so she didn’t have to take the bus. Didn’t she want to thank him for being so kind?
There had to be something wrong with her. Something inside her that men like Cash, like Russ, could see. Something that said she’d be easy to take, easy to manipulate, easy to do what they said.
She didn’t want Tyler to know that about her. She never wanted him to see her that way.
Tyler was so strong, and yet his hand felt so tentative as he touched her. “Abbi. Did somebody hurt you?”
She shook her head. Her face felt hot, so many different kinds of flames—fear, desire, embarrassment, regret. And wanting. When she was with him, she was always wanting.
“I’m fine,” she said, keeping control over her voice. “I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page—that you know helping me with Russ, or keeping the story going when we’re both in the office, doesn’t automatically mean this is where we go.”
She may not have given him the full story, but she could honestly say none of that was a lie.
“I want to kiss you, Blue. Kiss me because you want to, too.”
She let her mouth open, let his tongue find her. It didn’t mean she wanted him to keep saving her. It didn’t mean she forgave him for sending that email detailing his plans.
But it felt so good, so right to be with him.
“There are still a million reasons why we shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured.
“I don’t care.”
“I ruined your job.”
She could feel his smile against her mouth.
“For now,” he conceded as he kissed her hungrily.
Alarm bells blared in her mind. What was that supposed to mean?
But later, she would deal with it later. She was too busy kissing him to let the future get in the way.