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She’s afraid. So fucking afraid.

“I need to go home. Take me home. Now!” She rushes out.

“What’s wrong?” I discard my cigarette and fight with myself to not cup her face in my palms.

“I-I just need to go home,” she stammers.

A tear falls and I quickly wipe it away.

Who made her feel this way?

Why is she shaking?

What the fuck scared her so much?

So many questions pop up in my head and I can’t answer a single one. She won’t either. All I can do is hold her and do as she says. This is the only way I can help her.

Marie and Sebastian see us as they stumble out. Their gazes lock on us and I give them a nod.I got this. I got her.They steer toward Sebastian’s jeep but don’t leave.

Hope trembles against my chest.

Hesitantly I put my hands over her waist. My touch immediately pulls her attention, and she tilts her head back to meet my gaze.

“I’ll take you home once you stop crying,” I demand in a cold voice, masking my emotions well.

“What if I can’t stop crying?”

“Then you’re staying with me.”

She stays quiet for a long time, her eyes dropping so many tears, then she murmurs, “I wish.”

My hands tighten on her waist, and she steps closer to me. Her lavender scent invades my senses, and the familiarity throws a blanket of calm over my raging state.

Hope sniffles and then wipes her eyes. I hold the car door open for her.

During the ride, she barely speaks a word to me.

I’m mad. So fucking mad. Atherfor not telling me stuff. Atmyselfbecause I can’t seem to figure it out. At theuniversefor making me catch feelings for her when I wasn’t supposed to.

How am I supposed to deal with any of this? I’m lost, confused, and livid.

I pull the break and park a little away from her house, just like she wants. If I ask her she’s going to give me a stupid answer.

We sit in the car and watch the road. I wait for her to make a move, but she sits still. So incredibly still that it makes me worried.

“It’s seven-thirty,” I speak, breaking the ropes of silence tied around us.

A nod is all she gives me as she looks out of the window.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

She has a curfew.I can’t keep her with me, even if I want to.

She has to go.I don’t want her to go.

My phone pings with a text message. Hope and I both look at it at the same time.

Mom: Happy birthday, son.

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