Page 44 of The Savior

Liam scowled, swaying at the most inconvenient moment.Shit.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “I’m not in the mood to bury two of my friends.”

Friendsstuck out to him. They weren’t friends before, but maybe they were now, because of tonight. He liked that, in a possessive way, he could lump himself into her tightly guarded group of friends.

“So,” Chelsea continued, “be stubborn all you want, but I’m not going to let you drive drunk.”

His jaw set, and he wanted to explain he wasn’t drunk but didn’t want to lie.

Fat rain drops splatted, and she turned her face toward the sky. “As if I didn’t need another reason to let you drive.”

He silently lamented and pulled out his phone. The heavyplip plopof raindrops was few and far between, almost as if the storm were spitting at them. But begrudgingly, he cued up a ride-sharing app.

The first one reported that the closest ride was forty-three minutes away. The second nearly doubled that—definitely a con of living far out in suburbia on a work night. He sighed, scrolling for another option, then admitted, “I’m not keen on public transportation.”

Why was it so hard to admit that?He had never taken an Uber or Lyft and only had them on his phone to help a friend out. It wasn’t that he had a fear of an unknown driver—more as if he’d seen too much random tragedy and couldn’t get comfortable with the idea of another person having that much control.

She stared as if he needed to explain, but he shut down. His lips flattened, and he crossed his arms. “Don’t worry about it. Never mind.”

He didn’t want to explain that, logically, he knew ride sharing was much safer than driving himself home. But he hated the lack of control the night Julia died on the Metro, when he couldn’t control who was around and where they went.

“Order your ride, and I’ll tell you something to take your mind off it,” she offered.

He wanted to protest again and explain there was nothing to ignore, but instead, curiosity got the best of him, and he wanted to hear her talk. Liam glanced at his options, choosing the one that let him have more time to listen to Chelsea. “Done.”

She stared at the low clouds. “My mother didn’t want me to work with the feds.”

Thatwasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

Liam watched her knot her fingers and study them with vexatious intensity. “I was supposed to be a lawyer.”

He grinned and could see her as a balls-busting attorney. “You’re tough and good at getting your way. A lawyer would be a good fit.”

Her self-deprecating laughter was almost inaudible. “Being a lawyer sounded awful after years of dreaming about a job I couldn’t have.”

“What was that?”

“Law enforcement.”

He lifted an eyebrow but kept his bevy of questions to himself.

“It wasn’t what my mom thought of as picture perfect, and after a lifetime under her regime, I broke free.” She snorted. “I’m so wild, huh? Rebelling against my mother, I jumped head first into law enforcement.”

“Admirable, if you ask me.”

Chelsea lifted a shoulder. “When the strongest force in your life tells you one thing—be a lawyer and you will matter—and then you don’t? It’s terrifying not to matter.”

“Of course you matter.”

She hesitated. “Not to her. Not as much as I could have.”

He didn’t know what to say, other than knowing how Chelsea followed her heart through that tough of a barrier elevated her even higher in his opinion.

Liam checked the app. Thirty-nine minutes to go. As the heavy raindrops picked up speed, he leaned back. “Why did you share that?”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never told anyone that before.”

He mulled that over. “Why me?”

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