Page 82 of Pulled Away

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” I shout through my tears, and if I had any strength left in my arms, I’d punch that concern right off of his face.

“How long?” I ask once I’m capable of coherent thought, the drained adrenaline leaving me shaky.

“Since that night.”

He doesn’t need to clarify which night. How was I so blind that I never noticed? A cold shiver travels down my spine. I need to be more careful.

“So, what? Every time I have a shift, you hang around and follow me home? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” I continue at his nod.

He shrugs, helplessness painted in broad strokes over his body. “Not to me. I told you. I’m worried about your safety.”

“And I told you to stop worrying about me.”

“I can’t, and please don’t ask me to stop. I physically can’t.”

My legs are shaky as I get up, ignoring his outstretched hand. Slapping the dirt from my ass, I look around, taking in the surrounding desolation. I need to get in my car and go home. This is not the time, and sure as hell not the place to be having any kind of conversation.

“Wait? How do you even know when I’m working?”

He bites his lip. “You’re going to be mad.”

“Like I’m not mad already,” I mutter, glaring at him. “Spill Ryan. Now is not the time for more secrets.”

“First it was Carter and then you moved, so he put me in touch with Alice.”

“Fucking traitors,” I spit, marching to my car. And my shit list just keeps getting longer.

“It’s not their fault. I can be very persuasive,” he says, dogging my heels. He’s so close, I feel the heat of his breath when he mutters, “Except when it matters.” He jerks back when I spin on him, narrowly avoiding bumping my head against his chin.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you get to your car safely.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s only us,” I say, gesturing towards the empty road. “Unless you’re worried about a stray bear mauling me, or a herd of moose trampling me?”

Well, shit. Suddenly paranoid, I glance around nervously. We are next to a forested area, and there are occasional sightings of bears. And moose. Spinning on my heels, I hurry to my car.

“Moose don’t tend to travel in herds.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, practically diving into my car. “Just go home, Ryan. And don’t follow me.”

I slam my door, but wait until he’s in his car before driving, Ryan following me all the way home.

Ryan

As usual, after my late night tailing of Aspen, I’m tiptoeing down the hallway, trying not to wake Mom and Dad. I’m sneaking like a teenager trying not to get busted, and I hate it—it’s humiliating—but it’s better than answering the questions I know they’ll have.

“Son.”

Not gonna lie; I shriek like a little girl at the disembodied voice coming from the drawing room. My heart hammers as I clutch my chest, trying to catch my breath. I’m never watching a horror movie again. Ever. Shit, if this is half of what Aspen felt, I deserve to be taken out to the backyard and shot.

What an epic shit show tonight was. When that huge boulder-like dude came charging toward my car, it was obvious the jig was up. Pulse pounding like a runaway horse, I hightailed it out of there, cursing myself for being an idiot. I knew I was in serious trouble and had to come clean. I’d rather have Aspen more mad at me than she already was than let her think she had a stalker.

A light clicks on, and I trudge into the drawing room muttering a sheepish hello. Falling into the chair, I blow out a huge breath, trying to rid myself of the events of the night. Fuck, I didn’t mean to make Aspen cry.

“Why are you up?”

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