Page 51 of No Good Fight

“Is he coming out?” she asks.

“No.” I glance toward the front windows. Parker is behind the bar now, phone pressed to her ear, her attention moving between the door and us. She caught my eye thirty seconds after I got Alex outside and gave me one tight nod. Remy will know soon. Maybe already does. “Parker won’t let him follow us.”

“You say that like Parker is scarier than Preston.”

“She is.” I chuckle. “Have you ever seen her try to wrangle Remy and her kids at the same time?”

Alex’s mouth twitches, but it doesn’t hold. Her fingers loosen on my jacket. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

The admission is quiet. Small enough that I know what it costs her.

“Okay,” I say.

Her eyes lift to mine. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You’re not going to tell me I need to rest? Or drink water? Or make good choices like someone who owns a reasonable amount of socks?”

I pick up her laptop bag from the ground and slide the strap over my shoulder. “You do need water.”

“Ryder.”

“And socks.”

Her glare is shaky, but it’s there. I’ll take it.

“I’m not ready to walk back into my apartment,” she admits, and this time she looks away before the words hit. “I know that sounds ridiculous when I’m standing outside in the rain after letting a man assault me in public like I’m apparently still auditioning for the role of easiest victim in Maine⁠—”

“Stop.”

The command comes out harder than I mean, but I don’t take it back. Not when she’s standing there with red marks around her wrist and shame in her voice that belongs to someone else.

“You didn’t let him do anything,” I tell her. “He chose to hurt you but that doesn’t mean that you let him do shit.”

Alex’s throat works as she tries to keep herself from responding to me.

I soften my voice because her eyes are getting glassy again and the last thing she needs is me adding force to a night already full of it. “You want air?”

“I’m literally standing outside.”

“Different air.”

Her brow pinches. “That isn’t an answer.”

“Harbor,” I say, nodding toward where my truck is parked half a block down. “Ten minutes. We sit. You don’t have to talk unless you want to.”

“And if I don’t want to go with you?”

“Then I stand right here until you decide where you do want to go, and I make sure that you get there safe and sound.”

She studies me for a long second, rain darkening her hair and sliding down the side of her face. I can still taste her. That is going to be a problem for the rest of my life.

Finally, she holds out her hand. “Keys.”

I hand them over without arguing because I’m not an idiot. If the only way Alex is going to get in a vehicle with me is if she’s in the driver’s seat, then so be it. I’d cut off a toe at this point, if she demanded it of me.

Surprise flashes across her face.