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Panic surged in my chest, clawing up my throat. Clutching my phone, I stumbled into my bathroom. One glimpse in the mirror showed what a wreck I was—mascara smeared like a mask across my eyes, lipstick faded to a washed-out pink, my face deathly pale.
I looked like a ghost.
Sliding to the floor, I pressed my back against the wall, struggling to catch my breath. More notifications streamed across my phone screen.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Then my fingers were moving, typing in the only name that had stood beside me, supported me, defended me. A stranger. A biker. A damn good kisser.
The phone rang and rang. Then Axel picked up and I nearly sobbed at the sound of his raspy, sleep-rough voice.
“Beth?”
“I need your help.”
He grunted, followed by the shift and rustle of fabric. His clothes? His sheets? A blush heated my cheeks at the realization that it was early and Axel was probably still in bed. Did he sleep in a full set of pajamas? Shorts? Sweatpants? Or nothing at all?
“What is it?” Axel asked, his voice sharper this time, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I faltered, scrubbing at the hem of my skirt. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. Actually, I didn’t have a plan at all. And now that I was faced with explaining the situation to Axel, it seemed ludicrous. What could he possibly do to help me fix this?
“Are you still there?” he prompted.
“Yes, I’m…” I broke off, rubbing my forehead with the sudden urge to cry. “I feel so stupid for calling. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Beth, sweetheart, it’s fine. Just…tell me what’s going on.”
I tipped my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling as if I could find a solution to my problem written in the paint.
“My mother wants me to get back together with my boyfriend,” I said, my voice wobbling. “She wants me to marry him.”
“The douchebag with the fancy car and shitty attitude?”
I managed a wet laugh.
“Yeah. That one.”
Doesn’t matter that I didn’t like Lionel, let alone love him. In my mother’s eyes, he checked all of her boxes—rich, connected, and well-educated. Lionel was my mother’s ticket out of this small, desert town and into the wealthy social circles of New York. As her son-in-law, she could use Lionel to her advantage endlessly, even if that meant the cost of my happiness and freedom—a cost she was more than willing to pay.
“Then say no,” Axel replied. “Find another date. Or don’t date anyone at all.”
He made it sound so easy. As if my mother would simply accept my response and move on with her life.
My refusal to marry Lionel would be nothing short of starting World War III. And then Mom would set me up with someone else—someonesheliked, not me. This wasn’t the first time my mother had arranged a partner for me, and it wouldn’t be the last.
When I didn’t say anything, Axel continued.
“Let me guess. You’re a good girl. You’ve always dotted your I’s and crossed your T’s because that’s what was expected of you. If you didn’t meet those expectations, you were labeled a disappointment.”
I opened my mouth to protest then snapped it shut, bewildered that he could read me so well.
Axel breathed a faint laugh.
“One look at you was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. Now your mom wants you to marry a guy you don’t like, and for the first time in your life, you’re faced with the realization that you have to go against her wishes and do something you want for a change.”
“Okay, hold on a minute. I didn’t expect you to like…psychoanalyze me when I called.”
“Then what did you call me for, Beth?”
