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she steadied herself long enough to grab Sophia’s hands and look at her. She took a deep breath. “I just wanna leave now,” she said calmly.

“Wait a sec. I’ll go ask Drew if he can take a break to drive you,” Sophia said before hurrying away.

Sophia had a right to worry, and Taylor was acting like her walking alone was no big deal.

“I could walk you,” I offered. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m really fine. You guys stay and have a good time.”

There wasn’t much I could do other than watch her turn around and walk straight into a nearby chair. She grabbed the back of it before it fell to the floor and then adjusted her bag on her shoulder. It was a good save, but she still looked completely ridiculous. And if she couldn’t even walk out of the bar without getting into trouble, I didn’t trust her to make it the more than three miles home.

By the time she made it down the deck steps and into the parking lot, I was convinced I should walk her. She’d slipped once on the steps but caught herself again. I’d just stay far behind her so I could keep an eye on her safety. She was clearly intoxicated, and I didn’t trust that someone would see a drunk girl stumbling home late at night and decide they should leave her alone. She could get robbed or… I didn’t even want to let my mind go there.

Without giving it another thought, I told Sophia I was going to make sure Taylor got home safely. I put money on the bar on my way out before jogging down the deck steps toward the direction of Taylor’s apartment.

The area was fairly populated, though it wasn’t in the busiest part of the city. Still, the fact that it had street lights and a good amount of cars were still driving around made me feel a little better about her walking alone, but I still wasn’t going to allow her to do it when I could easily make sure she got home safely.

I let her get about a half a block ahead of me—close enough that I could see her clearly and get to her if she needed help, but far enough that I doubted she would notice me. My plan worked for most of the walk until Taylor stopped to lean against a building and check her phone, causing me to have to stop as well so I didn’t get too close to her.

To make myself look busy, I took out my phone only to find a text from Taylor.

Why are you following me?

When I looked over to where she’d been standing, I didn’t see her. Without texting back, I jogged toward where she’d probably gone, but I didn’t see her right away. Where did she go?

“How do you like being followed?” asked someone behind me.

I spun around. “What the—”

“I went into the alcove in front of the barber shop when you ran past me. Do you have any idea how creepy it is to feel like someone’s following you? And then when you turn around it’s a friend who you already told not to walk you home?” She let out a harsh sigh. “I’m honestly not sure if that’s better than a stranger following me or worse.”

“I’d think better,” I offered cautiously because I could tell she was pissed. “I know you said not to walk you, but I just didn’t feel comfortable letting you walk alone at this time of night, especially in your neighborhood.” I felt myself cringe at the mention of where her apartment was located. Way to insult her too.

Taylor’s expression hardened. “Since when is what you’re comfortable with more important than what I am? I asked you to let me be alone, and you just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t respect that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I just wanted—”

“Stop with what you want. This isn’t about you.”

I didn’t know if her anger was a result of the alcohol or something else, because this was a side of Taylor I hadn’t seen before, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

“I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders fell a bit with my words, and she seemed to let go of some of the tension in her body. Though I could still sense her anger.

“Go home,” she said.

So I did.

Chapter Eleven

T A Y L O R

At Safe Haven, I kept stealing glances at Ransom even though I willed myself to stop. Evidently my impulse control was total shit.

I’d spent the rest of the weekend trying to sort through all the conflicting thoughts in my head. On one hand, I felt justified in calling Ransom out on following me home, even if I’d been drunk. He didn’t have to go all covert-ops with it. That was next grade creeper level behavior.

So why didn’t it feel like it?

That was the question I couldn’t escape. His following me home should’ve had all my red flags flying, but it…didn’t. With Brad, I was on edge as soon as I’d started seeing him around after we’d broken up. The first time he’d popped up somewhere I was, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up even though it could have been a coincidence.

I didn’t feel any of that with Ransom. There was no pretending he hadn’t willingly followed me without my knowledge, but I wasn’t weirded out about it despite having acted like I was. Because it was weird. Wasn’t it?

This was one of the things I hated Brad for most: he made me question my instincts. Everything in me told me Ransom was just being a good guy who worried about me. But I hadn’t done anything to earn his concern for me, and that put me on edge a bit. What kind of guy went to that kind of trouble for someone they barely knew?

Who got them a job and

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