The night my boyfriend called me a worthless embarrassment in front of our friends, I thought the worst part of my birthday was already over. I had no idea that before the weekend ended, his own brother would be standing between us, begging him to stop, while the man I loved threatened to destroy everything I had worked for.

Chapter 1

It started with a trampoline, a little too much birthday champagne, and a moment of laughter that should have meant absolutely nothing.

I had just turned twenty-one, and for once, life seemed to be falling into place. I was finishing my junior year at a university outside Columbus, Ohio, studying elementary education, and sharing a modest rental house with my boyfriend of two years, Derek Mitchell. He was twenty-six, worked as a sales manager at a local car dealership, and had a way of making people feel like they were the most important person in the room.

At least, that was how he had made me feel when we first met.

Derek could be incredibly thoughtful. He remembered that I hated carnations but loved yellow roses, surprised me with coffee during exam weeks, and once drove three hours through a snowstorm because my grandmother had been hospitalized. When he was in a good mood, I couldn’t imagine wanting to spend my life with anyone else.

But Derek had another side, too.

Sometimes, something small would set him off. A dish left in the sink, a phone call he thought lasted too long, or a joke he didn’t find funny could turn an ordinary evening into hours of tension. He would raise his voice, call me careless or stupid, and occasionally slam a cabinet hard enough to rattle the dishes.

He always apologized afterward. He would tell me work had been stressful, that he hadn’t meant what he said, or that I knew how to push his buttons. And because I loved him, I accepted those explanations more often than I should have.

That Saturday, I wanted nothing more than a happy birthday.

We invited about twenty friends and relatives to our house. Derek grilled burgers in the backyard, my friends decorated the patio with string lights, and his mother, Linda, brought a homemade chocolate cake with strawberries on top. His father, Frank, arrived carrying a cooler of drinks, while Derek’s younger brother, Ryan, showed up with a gift bag and a ridiculous birthday card featuring a dancing chicken.

Ryan was twenty-four, a quiet, good-natured guy who worked as an electrician. Unlike Derek, who could dominate any conversation, Ryan was the sort of person who listened carefully before speaking. We had always gotten along, although I wouldn’t have described us as particularly close.

By ten that night, most of the guests had left. The remaining group consisted of Derek, Ryan, my two closest friends, Megan and Ashley, and me. We were sitting around the patio table, laughing about old college stories while the last of the music played softly through a portable speaker.

Megan noticed the trampoline near the back fence.

“Remember when we used to do backflips on those things?” she asked, already slipping off her sandals.

Ashley laughed. “I remember you almost breaking your nose.”

“That was one time.”

Before anybody could stop her, Megan climbed onto the trampoline and performed a surprisingly graceful backward flip. We burst into applause, and I told her I wished I could do that.

“Come on, birthday girl,” she called. “Your turn.”

I had enjoyed several glasses of champagne, so attempting gymnastics was probably not my smartest decision. Still, I was feeling silly and happy, and it seemed harmless enough. I climbed onto the trampoline, bounced twice, attempted to turn around, and landed flat on my backside.

Everyone started laughing, including me.

Everyone except Derek.

He stood beside the patio table with his jaw clenched and his arms folded across his chest. The expression on his face made my laughter fade before I understood why.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “You’re absolutely pathetic.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Get down. We need to talk.”

His voice was sharp enough that Ashley stopped smiling. I climbed down, suddenly aware of how unsteady I felt, and tried to laugh off the awkwardness.

“Derek, what’s wrong?”

“Would you quit acting like an idiot for five minutes and come inside?”

The backyard went silent.

Ryan straightened in his chair. Megan looked from Derek to me, clearly unsure whether to intervene. I felt heat spreading across my cheeks, and the familiar instinct to smooth things over took control.

“It’s okay,” I told them. “He’s probably just teasing me.”

But Derek wasn’t teasing.

He marched through the kitchen and down the hallway toward our bedroom. I followed him, still trying to understand how a harmless joke had made him so angry.

The moment the bedroom door closed, he exploded.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing you were out there?” he demanded. “Falling all over yourself like some drunken fool?”

“I was just having fun.”

“Fun? Is that what you call making a complete spectacle of yourself?”

I stared at him. “Everybody was laughing. Megan did the same thing.”

“I don’t care what Megan did. You’re my girlfriend. You represent me when we’re around other people.”

Something about those words stung more than the yelling.

I had never thought of myself as someone who represented Derek. I was his girlfriend, not an employee at his dealership, and it was my birthday. But telling him that would only make him angrier.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

He swept a stack of magazines off the dresser.

The crash made me flinch.

“That’s your problem, Emily. You never think. You just act stupid and expect everybody else to put up with it.”

Tears filled my eyes. I had heard him speak cruelly before, but something about his anger that night felt different. He was pacing the room, gesturing wildly, and getting louder every time I tried to answer.

Finally, I walked toward the door.

“I’m going back outside,” I whispered. “We can talk tomorrow.”

He stepped in front of me.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to get into bed and stay here until morning. You’ve embarrassed me enough for one night.”

I looked at the door behind him, then at his face. He had never actually hit me, but I suddenly realized how little room there was between us. His shoulders were rigid, and his hands kept opening and closing at his sides.

“Please move,” I said.

“Sit down, Emily.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

I hated myself for obeying, but I was frightened of what would happen if I didn’t.

Then somebody knocked hard on the bedroom door.

“Derek!”

It was Ryan.

“Open the door, man. Right now.”

Derek spun toward it. “Mind your own business!”

“I heard you yelling. Open the door.”

“This has nothing to do with you!”

“It does when you’re scaring her.”

For several seconds, nobody moved. Then Derek yanked open the door and stepped into the hallway.

I couldn’t see them, but I heard every word.

“You don’t get to interfere in my relationship,” Derek snapped.

“Then stop treating her like garbage.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“She’s crying on her birthday, Derek. Listen to yourself.”

There was a heavy thud against the hallway wall. I covered my mouth with both hands, terrified they were about to fight.

Then Ryan appeared in the doorway.

His expression softened when he saw me sitting on the bed, shaking and wiping tears from my face.

“Emily,” he said gently, “get your shoes. You’re coming with me.”

I looked past him. “Where’s Derek?”

“Don’t worry about Derek right now. You’re not staying here tonight.”

I should have protested. I should have insisted that this was my home and that I could handle my own relationship. Instead, I stood up, grabbed my purse, and followed him.

Ryan made sure Megan and Ashley had safely left before calling a cab. He didn’t ask me to explain anything during the ride. He simply handed me a packet of tissues and sat quietly beside me while I cried.

Eventually, he called his mother.

“Mom, something happened at Emily’s birthday party,” he said. “Derek completely lost it. I’m taking her to my place for the night.”

I heard Linda’s worried voice through the phone, although I couldn’t make out her words.

“No, he didn’t hit her,” Ryan replied. “But he blocked the bedroom door, and I wasn’t leaving her there.”

Those words made my stomach tighten.

Until that moment, I had been telling myself Derek had simply gotten angry.

Hearing Ryan describe what happened made it sound much worse.

At his apartment, Ryan’s roommates, married couple Ben and Claire, welcomed me without asking uncomfortable questions. Claire lent me clean pajamas and showed me where the bathroom was. Ryan gave me his bedroom and insisted on taking the couch.

I barely slept.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Derek standing in front of the bedroom door. I kept replaying the evening, searching for something I might have said or done to make him so furious.

The next morning, Ryan found me sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee I hadn’t touched.

“Has he done this before?” he asked.

I stared down at the mug.

“He’s yelled before,” I admitted. “Sometimes he throws things. But usually there’s a reason.”

Ryan frowned. “What kind of reason?”

I thought about the time I’d forgotten to take out the trash for three days. Derek had shouted for nearly an hour and kicked a laundry basket across the kitchen. At the time, I’d told myself he was frustrated because I hadn’t kept up with my chores.

“Normal couple stuff,” I said weakly.

Ryan pulled out the chair across from me.

“Emily, forgetting the trash isn’t a reason for somebody to terrorize you.”

I wanted to believe him. But believing him meant admitting that something was terribly wrong with the relationship I had spent two years building.

He asked me to stay another day. We ordered Chinese takeout, played video games with Ben and Claire, and watched an old comedy that actually made me laugh. For a few hours, I almost felt normal.

By early evening, though, reality returned.

I needed my textbooks and laptop for Monday’s classes, and I couldn’t avoid Derek forever. Ryan drove me home and waited in his truck until I called to say Derek wasn’t there.

When Derek finally returned, he seemed calm.

I took that as a good sign.

We sat on the living room couch, and I carefully explained how frightened and humiliated I’d felt. I told him I wanted to understand why he’d become so angry over something so insignificant.

He listened without interrupting.

Then he held out his hand.

“Give me your phone.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

“Because before we discuss anything else, you’re going to delete Ryan’s number.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misunderstood.

“Ryan? Your brother?”

“He’s dead to me after what he pulled. And if you’re staying with me, you’re done talking to him, too.”

I looked at the man I’d loved for two years, waiting for some sign that he understood how unreasonable he sounded.

Instead, he leaned forward.

“You have a choice, Emily. You can respect me, or you can keep talking to my brother. But you don’t get both.”

And for the first time, I wondered whether Ryan had rescued me from something much worse than an argument.