42. Tyson

I pushIssa so she’s out of the way. “What the fuck?” Tyree yells, still in motion toward me.

Issa calls Tyree’s name, trying to get him to calm down. His mouth is set in a snarl, and his face is twisted. There’s no calming him down, so I square up and brace myself. Issa runs in front of me, using her body to shield me, and I lose it.

“Issa, move!” I yell, but she stays in place. Faint screams from customers filter in, but my focus is on Tyree. There are many things I can get over, and like my dad told me, if it were him, it’s on sight. I accept that. I understand that. The choices I made brought this reaction. With the way I feel about Issa, please believe I would fuck shit up too if the situation were reversed. All that said, if he touches her or so much as gets too close, there will be no reasoning with me.

“Tyree, please stop!”

Tyree’s mom and dad come running behind him, along with his twin brothers.

“Clarissa, what the fuck. You’re cheating on me?”

“No, what? No—we’re not together anymore, Tyree.” Issa is crying now, and I’m pissed. I take her wrist and pull her behind me.

“Tyson, you really foul for this shit. You’re supposed to be my boy, and you’re fucking my fiancée?” Tyree walks closer so he’s in my face.

“Listen, back the fuck up. You can say what you gotta say over there.”

I stand taller and position myself so Issa is protected.

“Tyree, stop this!” his mom yells.

“Dad, take mom home,” Tyree screams, and for a second, I think his dad is going to say no or convince him to stop, but he listens and is now focused on getting the mom out of the restaurant.

“Tyree, stop!” she yells again, but the dad has her halfway out of the restaurant.

Tyree’s brothers position themselves at his back, and I get ready. All I wanted to do was eat jerk chicken egg rolls with my baby and love on her, and now, I’m staring down three dudes in a fighting stance. Issa pushes past me, and I scream for her to get back.

“Tyree, wait. Wait! Look at me,” she says with her hands up. His face is focused on mine, and his scowl is so deep. I’ve never seen him this mad.

“Please look at me.”

He turns his head, and I see the moment he registers her. His brows soften, and he twists his jaw. He still looks angry, and the tension is thick, but he stands still, not speaking.

“Talk to me. Be mad at me,” she says, and I’m already shaking my head.

“Nah, fuck that. Move back, Issa.”

My voice brings Tyree’s attention back to me, and he’s practically foaming at the mouth. Again, I get it. I understand it. I accept it.

I took something very precious from him, and while Issa is a living being making her own decisions, there’s a code. And I violated it.

I narrow my eyes and look around the scene. Customers are scattered, and the owner, Sammie, is running out from behind.

“Hey, hey, guys! Calm down. What’s going on?”

His hands are up, and he comes to stand in front of Issa, adding another layer between Tyree and me.

“Talk to you—talk,” Tyree says, his focus on Issa. He ignores Sammie and his question.

“I’ve been calling you non-stop. I even went to your job,” he says. “Marissa wouldn’t tell me anything. And I’m dying because I need to see you. We could work this out. It wasn’t permanent. You just needed time. I was cool with that, but imagine my surprise at seeing you here sitting on this bitch’s lap.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe the words he’s saying.

“I’ll show you a bitch. Talk to me,” I say, stepping forward. He ignores me with his focus still on Issa.

“I was worried something happened, but I see you’re alive and fucking well. So let’s fucking talk, Clarissa!” he yells, and I’m not having it. I push past Issa and shove Sammie to the side.

“Let’s talk outside,” I say, adjusting my pants. Tyree’s brothers cross their arms under their chests and scowl at me.

“Now, hold on, guys. Aren’t you friends?”

“Right. Great observation, Sammie. This is my best fucking friend. Since college. Over fourteen years!” he shouts. “That’s a long ass time to know somebody.”

He shakes his head and wipes his hand down his face, a fast succession of aggravated, stilted movements. He’s on edge, and I need to get us outside.

Call it my pride or ego, but I can’t let this continue. I’ll never be okay with the way he’s addressing Issa or the fact that he’s saying anything to her. If it were just me, I’d let a lot of shit slide, but it’s not, and I’m not.

“Come on, boy. Let’s handle it outside.”

He lifts his eyes to me, and the pain swirling there is deep.

He turns to the door and jogs out with his brothers following him. I trail behind, and Issa is pulling my hand. “No, don’t go out there.”

“Can’t,” I say and release a breath. I can hear Sammie holding Issa back and getting his hostess to help as I push the door open.

As soon as I’m out the door, Tyree rushes me. He tackles me to the ground, and I maneuver to get up. With no one to stop us, it’s a full-on brawl, and I’m taking punches as much as giving them out. His brothers don’t jump in, but their yelling fills my ears. It’s messed up for a few reasons. The first is because I have love for Tyree. There’s still a sense that I don’t want to hurt him. I’m blocking shots, but I’m not giving a hundred percent.

The second reason is I still feel the fight is warranted. I deserve these punches for falling in love with my best friend’s fiancée. As the thought registers, Tyree pushes me back, and as I adjust my footing so I don’t fall, he hits me with a right hook. My mouth is already throbbing, and the sting of a sharp punch radiates through my face. He hit me so hard that my teeth clicked. I wipe my mouth and spit blood on the pavement. When he charges me this time, I don’t hold back. I give him everything I have and more.

I must have blacked out for a few minutes because the next thing I know, my hands are on my hips as I breathe through my nose. My eyes are narrowed on Tyree, who is sitting up from the ground. He wipes blood from his nose while his brothers hover over him. When they try to help him, he pushes them back with his eyes on me. But he doesn’t get up. He pulls up his knees and lowers his head.

Issa comes running out with Sammie on her trail.

“Oh my gosh, Tyson.” She looks to the ground at Tyree and hesitates before she touches my face, twisting it to see if I’m hurt.

“I’m fine.”

I pull back to focus on Tyree, who is not looking up at all anymore.

“How could you, Clarissa?” Tate yells.

“My brother loves you!” his twin screams, and it guts me. I’m not a heartless man. This is so fucking messy. While she ended things before we started, I’m not sure that matters. I lower my head and blow out a breath.

“Shut up. Go to the car. I’m coming,” Tyree yells at his brothers, and they reluctantly walk to his car.

Tyree stands up and dusts his pants off. He gives me one last look and walks away.

“Are you okay?” Sammie and Issa say. I nod, but my mouth is still throbbing.

“Hey, man. Not sure of the details, but I get the gist of the story. Why don’t you come back to my office and get yourself cleaned up? Maybe take a minute to calm down.”

The adrenaline that was so freely pumping through my veins dissipates, but I don’t relax until I see Tyree’s car speeding down the street.

I nod and follow Sammie. Issa is holding my hand and tucked into my side.

Customers are still scattered, but I don’t focus on them. I follow Sammie down a dark hall, and he dips into a room, turning on the light as he steps in. “The bathroom is through there.” He points. “I’ll be out in the dining area if you need anything.”

With those words, he’s out, and it’s just me and Issa.

“Come on,” she says, pulling me to the bathroom. She sits me on the toilet and shifts to open the cabinet. The first aid kit is exactly where Sammie said it would be. She pulls it out, sits it on the edge of the sink, and unclips the box.

“Why didn’t you tell me he’s been calling you?”

She stops her search in the first aid kit and looks at me.

“I didn’t know. I blocked his number before the trip after he called a few times. Rissa never mentioned him contacting her while I was gone,” she says, but her tone is sharp.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask when she rips the alcohol wipes out of their small package.

“Yes. Why did you fight him?”

“Issa, what did you want me to do? I wasn’t about to run.”

She pulls out the wipe and presses it to my eyebrow, and I hiss.

“Fuck, that stings.”

She moves to lighten the pressure, but her face is still twisted in a scowl. I take her hand to stop her movements and stare into her eyes. I tilt my head and pull her to me.

“Issa.”

Her brows dip low, and a tear spills down her cheek before she can catch it. She wipes with her free hand, and I take that one, too, to get all her attention.

“I hate this so much,” she says with her eyes filling with tears.

“Come here. I know.” I stand and hug her to my chest. My eyebrow still stings from her application before, but I don’t focus on that. “It’s okay. I promise. Sometimes, dudes have to talk with our fists.”

I release a breath and rub her back. “I’m sorry you had to witness it, honestly. I wish this were easier.”

She nods against my chest and sniffles.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

“I made such a mess,” she says as her voice cracks.

“Never. You did what was necessary. Are people hurt by it? Yes.” I rub her back and kiss the top of her head. “I think it would have been worse if you stayed, knowing your feelings changed. Being with someone that no longer fit you would have been way fucking worse.”

“I know,” she says, and I hug her tighter.

“Can you please finish cleaning my face so we can get the hell out of here?”

She laughs, and my shoulders relax.

“My poor baby.”

“Right, that’s what I’m saying.” I take a seat on the toilet, and she smiles down at me. I pull her to me by the waist, and she wraps her arms around my neck.

This night went downhill fast, but I’d do it all the same way if it meant she’d be standing in my arms with that look on her face—my fucking sun.