AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"That's not like you, Gray! You're not going to let some little whore ruin—"
The second Samuel utters that word—whore—everything goes blank. My fist is on his mouth before I can try and control my temper, and once that happens, I'm overtaken by this urge to keep punching him and make sure he never disrespects Tyley that way again.
There are screams around me and hands trying to pull me away, but I keep going. It's not until I'm dragged away by what feels like four different men that my adrenaline begins to fade.
That's when I see what I've done: Samuel's nose is broken, as are several of his teeth. He's bleeding, and people are helping him to his feet. It could have been worse, far worse, had the bouncers not managed to get me off him.
It's evident that he's in an immense amount of pain as he clutches his face with trembling hands. His arm doesn't look broken, but it's not looking so hot, either.
"Samuel, fuck, I'm sorry, man; I didn't mean to do it.”
The words ring hollow, empty apologies for the damage done. Samuel doesn’t answer me, perhaps because he didn’t hear me or maybe because he doesn’t want to listen to my bullshit. The bouncers, their faces grim, usher me towards the exit, and I don’t put up a struggle. I’ve already done enough harm for one night, haven’t I? I don’t want to add resisting arrest to my charges.
Cops meet us at the door, and I’m given the usual listing of my rights before being shoved into the back of the police cruiser. This is a new low, and I can already imagine the headlines that’ll be published tomorrow morning.
With bail posted, I wait by the counter to retrieve my stuff. A chubby, mustached cop strolls toward me with no real rush, carrying a sealed bag and an official-looking piece of paper.
“Check if everything is there, and then sign here stating you got your possessions back."
Holding it up, I feel the weight of my wallet, phone, and keys through the plastic. Everything seems to be there, but I don't really care one way or another. Without checking, I scribble my signature on the form, and the cop nods, satisfied with my compliance.
"Hey, I know it is way outside of protocol, but would you mind signing this for me too? My son is a big fan."
He slips a picture over the form, a publicity still from one of my recent fights. I don't feel like signing shit today, but I'm not about to cross a cop after what happened last night.
"Sure thing. What's your kid's name?"
"Nick," he says, giddy, beaming at me as I hand him back the poster like I've just given him a winning lottery ticket. "I'm going to be the coolest dad on the block tonight."
I nod and walk out the door, expecting to see Tate standing there. Or maybe Mike. Instead, I come to a halt when I realize the person waiting for me is the petite, stunning blonde I've been unable to get out of my head for weeks now.
"Ty," I gasp, unable to contain my surprise. What are you doing here?"
seventeen
Tyley
“Tyley? What are you doing here?”
I look up from my phone, not really wanting to, but what else am I supposed to do? I’m here, there are paparazzi not far from us, and I’m still under contract, no matter how done I might be with Grayson otherwise.
He’s standing there, looking every bit like a kicked puppy dipped in regret. His hair’s messy, his clothes rumpled, and there are fresh scrapes on his knuckles.
Much to my chagrin, the sight of him, so vulnerable and so different from the arrogant idiot who demanded I show him my phone, stirs a fiber inside me that makes me want to hug Grayson and tell him everything’s going to be alright.
“Tate sent me with bail money. He told me I needed to hug you for the cameras, so let’s get it over with, alright?”
“Ty, please listen to me.”
“Don’t. Just hug me, alright?”
I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his massive shoulders, trying to relax my muscles and make it look natural. From a distance, I think it could seem that way. God, as much as I hate him right now, feeling his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me close feels so goddamn good.
“I’m sorry, Ty.”
His voice is low and husky, his breath soft against my neck. I have to resist the urge to take him at his word.
“Sure you are.”
