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I shake my head. “As much as I wish he were, he’s just out cold.”
She visibly swallows, refusing to let go of me, and honestly, I don’t think I could fathom the thought of releasing her right now.
“The ball’s in your court, Aspen. What do you want to do? Call the police and have him arrested, or get out of here?”
She shakes her head. “I want you to take me home, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he got away and hurt someone else.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.”
Taking her back to my car, she scrambles for the passenger seat before brushing her hand over the lock and buckling in as I grab my phone that’s still connected to Aspen’s and turn back to the asshole on the street. Ending the call with Aspen, I call the police, and as I wait for them to arrive, I put the asshole up against the lamppost, and using his hoodie, I tie him up, making sure he can’t escape if he were to become conscious.
I launch myself over the white picket fence and scrounge through the thick bush for Aspen’s shoes and handbag, and then as we wait, I make my way around to the passenger’s side of my Escalade. The second she opens the door for me, she falls right back into my arms.
I hold her tight as I give Austin a quick call, letting him know that Aspen is safe and unharmed. He asks to talk to her for a minute, and by the time she’s convinced him not to get on a flight to come back home, the cops are screeching down the road.
We both give a quick statement with a promise to keep our phones on if they need to get in contact with us. As they cart the asshole into the back of an ambulance, I help Aspen back into the passenger side of my car and hit the gas.
Only as I take a right toward her apartment complex, she shakes her head. “I really don’t want to be alone tonight,” she tells me. “Would it be too much to ask if I crashed at your place?”
“Anything you want, Birdy,” I say, taking her hand and holding it as though it were my only lifeline.
28
ASPEN
As Izaac sails down the road toward his place, he clutches my hand so tight I start to lose feeling in my fingers, but I don’t dare let go of him. How could I?
He saved my life tonight.
If he wasn’t there, keeping me calm, I would have crumbled. I don’t think he’ll ever know just what he did for me, but I will always be grateful for it.
Anything could have happened. Rape. Violence. Death.
I didn’t look into that asshole’s eyes, but I could feel how much danger I was in. When I started to run, I could barely breathe. I’ve never been that scared in my life.
I heard his every step from where I hid in the bushes, slinking toward me, trying to coax me out. My palms were clammy, my knees were shaking so much I could have sworn I was making the leaves rustle around me. I would have been found for sure.
In my fear, it didn’t even register to me that Austin was out of town. Deep down, I knew. Becs and I had talked about it before we left the bar, but in that moment of fear, I couldn’t think straight.
But Izaac.
This incredible man saved my life.
He didn’t hesitate to come for me, talking me through my fear by having to face some of his own. I don’t even know if what he was saying was the truth, but it’s what I needed at that moment.
He kept me calm. He forced me to let go of the fear and put everything in perspective. He gave me a fighting chance if I were to be found, and he talked me through exactly what I needed to do if the worst were to happen.
Like I said, he saved my life tonight, and I will always love him for that.
We’re halfway back to his place when his thumb brushes across the top of my hand, and I glance up to find his dark gaze locked on mine. “You okay?”
I shrug my shoulders, still feeling shaky. “I, ummm . . . maybe. I guess. I’m not really sure.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but what the fuck were you doing, Aspen?” he questions, keeping his tone neutral so I know he’s not trying to pick a fight, simply wondering exactly the same thing that’s been circling my head since the moment I flew into those bushes. “You know the risks of walking home alone. Austin and I have practically drilled it into you for years. If you were stuck, you could have called me. You know you can always fucking call me, no matter what’s going on between us. I would have come.”
“I know,” I say, glancing away, unable to bear the look in his eyes. “I fucked up. I know that. But I was drinking, and I wasn’t thinking straight. The Uber wasn’t going to come for a while, and I figured I could get home quicker if I walked. I know it was stupid. I just . . . I wasn’t thinking.”
He presses his lips into a hard line and focuses his attention on the road, still refusing to release my hand. “What about your date?” he asks. “He couldn’t drive you home?”
