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“No.”
CHAPTERTEN
Dean
“No?” Taylor shrieked. “I don’t need your permission. I’m going. Give me my keys. Now!”
The tension that had clawed at my throat eased incrementally with every angry word she shouted at me until I almost felt like smiling. I couldn’t say what had made me walk over to the office window, where I’d noticed Taylor jogging out into the rain, and I definitely couldn’t say what had made me stay there, one arm against the windowsill as I watched her sit and sit and sit in her car.
I’d sensed it. Something was wrong, and when simply standing there, keeping watch, became unbearable, I made my way outside to her. The last thing I expected was to find her crying.
Fucking crying.
It felt like I’d been shot.
Never, in all the years I’d known her, had I ever witnessed anything close to the fear in her eyes like I had when she rolled down her window. And it was abhorrent. I had to do something.
“No, you’re not going alone. I’m going with you,” I told her, and before she could argue, I opened her car door. “Get out. I’m driving.”
Her jaw went slack. “You…can’t…what?”
I held up my umbrella so she wouldn’t get wet as I wrapped my hand around her arm, towing her out of her seat. She must’ve been in shock, because she would sooner slice my balls off with her high heel than let me boss her around. “Come on,” I said, ushering her to the passenger side and into the seat. “I’m driving. Where do you have to go?”
“Planned Parenthood,” she said, looking up at me in bewilderment.
With a nod, I shut the door then marched back around to drop into the driver’s seat, fishing her car keys from my pocket. I wiped my wet hands on my pants and found the address on my phone, settling it into the holder on her dash. With one last glance in her direction to make sure she wasn’t freaking out, I backed her little Audi out of the parking lot and drove to her appointment.
The clinic was about ten minutes away, and while I would’ve liked some music or something to take the edge off, Taylor seemed content to gnaw at her nails, her focus out of the window. So, I kept my mouth shut and let her work through whatever she needed to while I silently seethed.
I didn’t know a whole lot about Taylor’s personal life, thank god, but I could only assume she’d ended up in this situation because of the greasy octopus bartender from the holiday party, and my grip on the steering wheel tightened.
She shouldn’t have been going through this alone. She should have told someone, anyone. Christ. She was pregnant and getting an abortion by herself? Not on my goddamn watch.
I had briefly worried there would be protestors outside of the clinic door, but fortunately, I didn’t see any. If it was the weather or plain old sensibility, I was glad of it, and I escorted her inside.
I didn’t know if I should go with her to the check-in desk or sit down or stand there with my thumb up my ass, so I took to the diligent task of shaking out my umbrella until Taylor finished checking in and found a seat. I slipped into the open one next to her.
“You good?” I asked, and she nodded, barely meeting my gaze.
With her crossed legs and back rigid, she was obviously anxious, while I tried my best to appear relaxed and unruffled. I extended my legs out in front of me and reached into my pocket for my gum packet. When I offered her a piece, she refused with a stiff shake of her head.
“You sure?” I asked, peeling off the wrapper from the green gum.
“Just try to keep your teeth-gnashing to a minimum,” she murmured, but it was better than nothing, and I popped the stick into my mouth, making extra noise with it. She rolled her eyes. “What is it with you and gum? You’re always chewing.”
Although I didn’t think I wasalwayschewing, I shrugged. “You chew your fingernails. I chew gum.”
She rubbed at her temple. “Between your coffee slurping and gum chewing, you’re the noisiest eater I’ve ever met.”
“That’s because you’ve never met my friend Hank,” I said then knocked my elbow into her arm. “Oh, no, you did. He’s the lead singer of my band.”
“You say ‘my band’ like it’s actually yours.”
“I’m not using that term as in ownership. I say ‘my’ because it’s the band I’m in. You wouldn’t tell a baseball player he couldn’t say ‘my team.’”
“Well, you say it with a tone.”
“Atone?”
