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There's Adam, towering over her, his face contorted in a grimace of anger, his jaw clenched, his lips a thin line. But Tyley doesn't recoil as plenty of women would. Most, in fact, given the fact that he's a full head taller than her and three times as wide. Her shoulders are squared, her posture rigid, and she's staring defiantly into his eyes as she attempts to free her arm from his grip.
"Adam, let go of me!”
"I'm not going anywhere until we talk."
Well, if he thinks he can boss Tyley around this way, he's got another thing coming.
"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I growl, my voice laced with a dangerous edge. He shifts his attention away from Tyley, and the moment his gaze lands on me, his eyes narrow.
"Oh, surprise, surprise. I should have guessed you'd be here, following my girl like a lovesick puppy."
"I'm not your girl!"
"Like hell you're not!" Adam roars.
Tyley punches Adam in the stomach without warning. He doubles over, grunting in pain, but holds onto her arm even tighter, causing her to wince.
"Let go of me!" she hisses, and honestly, it seems like she can handle him with another blow. But I'm not going to stand here and watch this bastard harm her, even if she can stand up for herself.
I dart forward, grabbing Adam's hand and prying his hand open, my strength overpowering his.
“Back the fuck off before I kick the shit out of you, loser,” I snarl, my voice dripping with venom. "You take another step toward her, and I'm going to knock your lights out."
People are gathering around us now, some of them holding their phones up, recording the altercation. A little voice in the back of my head tells me Tate is going to love this. I push that thought aside because right now, all that matters is Tyley's safety. I've never been okay with women being mistreated, but when it comes to this woman, there's this untamed protectiveness that takes hold of me, an overwhelming need to shield her from harm. She's fierce and strong-willed, but even the strongest people need someone to have their back sometimes.
Adam glares at me, his eyes filled with rage as he stumbles back. His eyes dart to the crowd gathered around us, and I know that this humiliation is only going to boost his resentment. I shove myself between him and Tyley, blocking his path for good. He’s not getting past me, that’s for sure.
"You think you can steal Tyley? Look at you, Grayson. You're nothing but a washed-up has-been. You're too old to take me on in a real fight. I'll beat you to a pulp and take what's mine."
I clench my fists, feeling the veins in my temples pulse. I'm seething with rage, but I know better than to let his words get to me.
"You talk a big game, but you seem to forget you don't own shit. She's not something you can conquer and take home, so back off already."
"See?" he grunts, looking around at the crowd, trying to look big and strong. "He's too afraid to take me on. He knows he's going to lose."
I huff, cross my arms, and make a point of staring down at him. He might tower over Tyley, but he's smaller than me in every sense of the word. "You want a fight? Fine, you've got it. You and me, tiny, in the cage. You won't be able to run your mouth there either, so you better bring your a-game."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, the crowd erupts in cheers and murmurs of excitement. Well, it seems Tate is right after all: this confrontation is going to get us a whole lot of publicity. But I don’t give two shits about any of that. I just want to put this punk back in his place and get him to stop badgering Tyley.
"I'll see you in the cage, old man," he sneers, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But just remember, when I'm done with you, Tyley will finally see you for the washed-up loser that you are."
With a grunt, Adam turns on his heels and storms off, pushing his way through the crowd.
"Come with me," I say, turning around and motioning for Tyley to follow me away from the cameras and the gawking looks. She hesitates for a moment but nods, and I guide her back inside, slamming the door to prevent any of them from following behind us.
Once we're away from the front windows, we take a seat on one of the benches, and I reach out to touch her arm, wanting to offer some form of comfort.
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine," she says, her voice shaky but resolute. "Some idiots can't deal with being dumped."
"Do you want me to drive you home?"
Tyley shakes her head. "I'm good; I can handle myself.”
"Oh, I bet you can, but there's no shame in accepting a helping hand, you know?"
Tyley looks at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. I can tell that she wants to refuse my offer, trying to maintain her independence and pride. But her guard is slowly coming down, and I can see the exhaustion on her face. "Alright," she finally concedes. "Thank you."
