Page 6 of Rescued by a SEAL

Chapter 2

Taylor Reynolds frowned as she scanned her small apartment, the evening sunlight coming in through the slatted blinds on her balcony door. A burst of salty ocean air blew into the living room, and she crossed the room, pulling the window beside it shut.

The click of the lock felt like it sealed her fate.

She was stuck inside here for the night. Figuratively at least.

Her stack of books and empty mug were in their regular spot on the coffee table, her camera right beside them. Her jacket and purse tossed onto the arm chair, ready for her to grab before heading into work.

And her ex-boyfriend lay sprawled across her sofa, passed out in another drunken stupor.

Her gaze narrowed. His large frame took up all three sofa cushions, and although at one time she’d been attracted to his muscular, athletic build, now it just intimidated her.

Eric had been showing up more and more lately, and she was starting to feel jittery any time someone knocked on her door, fearful that it was him. Afraid that he’d come by and refuse to leave. Refuse to let her leave.

She couldn’t go into work late and just leave him there in her apartment—he’d be furious if he woke up and she was gone.

Not that she should have answered the door in the first place.

But if she sent him away, drunk, who knows what would happen. She hoped to God he hadn’t driven over here, but she couldn’t exactly send him on his way knowing that he’d be on the road with other drivers. Knowing that he could hurt—kill—someone else. Someone innocent.

She stiffened, inhaling sharply as memories washed over her. Of a drunk driver crashing into her sister’s old Toyota Camry. Of rushing to the hospital to wait with her parents, hoping and praying for a miracle before they finally had to take her off life support.

As much as she detested Eric’s behavior, she couldn’t in good conscience just send him on his way. She hadn’t wanted to let him in, but she knew he’d be furious if she left. It was easier just to call out from work and wait for him to wake up sober. Again.

She’d remind him that they broke up and send him on his way, hoping he finally got it.

Panic rocketed through her as she heard someone in the hallway, and she realized she’d forgotten to text her best friend to cancel her ride. Hurrying toward her front door, she quietly edged it open. She couldn’t exactly play sick since she was dressed and ready to go—makeup on, hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail, Anchors tee shirt worn over her jeans.

Bailey frowned as she saw the expression on Taylor’s face. “What’s wrong?” she immediately asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Taylor gushed, “but I forgot to text you. I’m not going into work tonight after all.”

Bailey raised her eyebrows, her blue eyes sparking. Her knowing gaze slid to the door. “What? Why not? Are you sick or something?”

Taylor stepped into the hallway, pulling the door behind her. After she quietly eased it shut, she met her friend’s gaze, her heart hammering in her chest. “Eric showed up,” she whispered. “He reeked of alcohol—he must’ve been drinking all day long. I don’t even know how he got here—I’m really hoping he didn’t drive over to my place. But I can’t just leave him here all alone.”

Bailey’s gaze landed on the closed door. Her blue eyes tracked back to Taylor. “And you let that asshole in? What’s he doing now?” she whispered furiously.

“Passed out drunk on the sofa.”

“Well, come on. I’ll drop you off at work, and you can crash at my place tonight. He won’t stick around here forever. Just let him sleep it off. And the next time he shows up, don’t open the door. Don’t even go near the door—just call the cops and be done with it. They can arrest him for being drunk in public or something. Maybe a night in jail would sober him up quick. Seriously Taylor—he’s bad news.”

“No,” Taylor said, shaking her head as her ponytail bobbed back and forth. “I can’t leave. He’d be furious if he wakes up and I’m not here.”

“He’s passed out drunk! He won’t remember if you told him you were leaving. Besides, you guys broke up. He shouldn’t even be coming over here at all. Ever. Who cares if he’s mad? He certainly doesn’t have a say in whether or not you go into work. Tell him to fuck off and screw up someone else’s life.”

Taylor let out a sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.”

Taylor helplessly shrugged. “He always apologizes when he’s sober—says that he needs someone to talk to. I mean, I guess he just hasn’t gotten over things yet. I’m the one that called it off. And his drinking so much might be a cry for help.”

“So what? People break up all the time. People get divorced more quickly than your break up. Go. Get your stuff. You can’t just let him keep controlling your life. Let his friends and his family deal with him. Eric is not your problem anymore. How many days of work have you missed anyway?”

“A lot,” Taylor admitted. “I was sick a few weeks ago, so I missed a couple of shifts then. But now Eric is showing up at my apartment all the time, saying we need to talk again.”

“He’s manipulating you—you know that, right? And I’m worried. He might be passed out drunk now, but what about when he turns into an angry drunk? Or an abusive drunk? You need him gone. You sure as hell don’t need him in your apartment.”

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