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“That’s not it,” Ben whispered and took another step back.

Walker blinked at him, confused, and then saw something move at the edge of his vision. He leaned aside a little to look behind Ben and saw Roan standing there. He had his hand pressed to his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Roan,” Walker said.

Roan shook his head and fled upstairs.

A red, ugly rage curled up hot in Walker’s stomach. “Did you set me up?” he said very quietly. “Did you arrange that? You and Molly?”

“She made me,” Ben said. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t really want to do it. But she said—”

“Save it,” Walker told him and pushed past Ben only to find Molly standing in his way.

“Not now, Walker.”

“Get out of my way, Molly.”

Molly shook her head, and Walker vaguely noticed how she didn’t look like her cocky, assured self. “Not this time. I mean it, Walker. Leave him alone.”

Walker balled his fists and glared at Molly. He wanted to make a scene and storm up the stairs to Roan, but everyone would hear, and Molly would probably find a way to film it. He’d talk to Roan tomorrow. As he spun on his heels and passed Ben, he said, “I’m sending you home. I don’t care what the producers want.”

“Don’t worry,” Ben told him. He looked disgusted and beaten. “I don’t want to stay.”