Page 52 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

Keys in hand, I head to my truck parked in the driveway. The rain is coming down in torrents as I pull out my phone and send Mia a quick text.

Me: Hey. I might be late tonight, but I’m still planning to pick you up, so don’t leave unless we talk.

I toss my phone into the cupholder and shove the truck into reverse while ignoring the fact I’m about to save a girl who most definitely does not belong to me.

22

ASHLYN

The windshield wipers swish back and forth against the glass as I rest my head on the steering wheel. It’s pouring, and thanks to it being past ten o’clock on a Friday night, all the Uber drivers are busy dropping people off at the local bar to have time for a girl like me.

I check the time on the dashboard and look at the little green dot representing my current Uber.

Seven more minutes.

Great.

Stupid car problems. I’ve had this bad boy since high school. It was my dad’s, but I really thought I’d be able to get at least a thousand more miles out of it without the stupid thing breaking down.

Jokes on me, though. Because here I am, stranded on the side of the road, at least a mile and a half away from any real civilization, with no one to rely on except a stranger I ordered through a phone app.

Lovely.

If I’m murdered tonight, it’s Logan’s fault. I still can’t believe he refused to help me out. Ten minutes. Okay, twenty tops. It would’ve taken him twenty minutes, and I would’ve felt safe.

I bet if I’d given him a blow job before my tutoring session with Colt, he would’ve shown up.

Asshole.

Scrubbing my hand over my tired eyes, I take a deep breath when lights glint off my rearview mirror, blinding me. It’s too dark to place the vehicle, but it’s slowing down as it inches closer.

Great. I really am going to be murdered.

My palms are sweaty as I wait for it to pass me and go on its merry way, but it doesn’t. It stops near my driver’s side window, lining up next to me. My life flashes before my eyes as the passenger window rolls down, and a very familiar pair of dark eyes that’ve been haunting me for weeks comes into view.

“Colt?” I breathe out, my heart still pitter-pattering away.

He yells something, though I can’t hear what it is over the pouring rain. Waving his hand, he mouths, “window down,” and I do as I’m told.

“What are you doing here?” I yell as the rain splatters through the crack in the glass, wetting my dashboard.

“Get in!”

“How did you know––”

“Get in the damn car, Ash!”

Frowning, I roll the window back up and take my keys from the ignition. Once my purse is hooked on my shoulder, I shove the door open and slam it behind me, sliding into Colt’s passenger seat. My hair is already soaked, and my shirt clings to my body, leaving me a shivering mess as I buckle the seatbelt, fold my arms, and peek at my savior.

With wrinkles etched into his forehead, and white knuckles throttling the steering wheel, he looks pissed. His eyes are glued to the road, and he doesn’t say a word as he pulls back onto the street.

He’s ignoring me.

The realization hits like a ton of bricks and leaves me speechless.

Am I supposed to apologize or something? And for what, exactly? I didn’t ask him to pick me up. In fact, I’ve never asked for anything from him. And yet here he is. Furious.

Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I glance at him again, a not-so-deserved apology tumbling out of me. “Look, I’m sorry.”

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