Page 24

Chapter seventeen

You trying to get tased?

Chase

I find out from Jake.

Not from Zoe. Not from her lips or her voice or her goddamn fingers on a keyboard. I find out because Jake corners me in the locker room after informal skate, a towel slung over his shoulder, and a deep frown carved between his brows.

“You need to check on your girl,” he says, pausing for a beat. “She got some weird messages and was followed last night.”

The sentence doesn’t land all at once. It slices slowly into my skin, piece by piece. I blink down at my water, hoping the words are going to rearrange themselves into something reasonable. Something less fucking insane, but they don’t.

“The fuck did you say?”

“She’s fine,” Jake says, like that’s supposed to help. “Came to ours for the night. Didn’t wanna be alone.”

I stare at him, and he stares back, watching my reaction carefully. Then after a moment, he claps a heavy hand on my shoulder and walks off like he didn’t just casually detonate the bomb that is my entire nervous system.

The next ten minutes are a blur. I don’t remember getting dressed, I don’t remember the drive.

I don’t even remember swiping into the building.

All I know is that I’m in Pulse’s lobby one second, and storming out of the elevator the next, vision narrowing as if I’m mid-shift with a puck flying at my face.

I barrel through the open-plan office, because right now I don’t give a shit about appearances or professional etiquette or the look some intern gives me.

I get to her office and throw the door open. Zoe jerks in surprise, a coffee tilting toward her mouth, a half-eaten protein bar resting on a napkin beside her phone.

“Jesus,” she says. “You trying to get tased?”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

My voice comes out rough, too loud in the sleek glass and steel of her office, but I’m past the point of caring.

She lowers her coffee slowly, and her expression tightens, telling me she already knows what this is about, but she still plays dumb.

“Tell you what?”

I knock the door shut with my foot and cross the room in three strides, both palms hitting her desk with a solid thud. I lean in, barely holding myself together.

“You were followed last night, Zoe,” I bite out through clenched teeth. “And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”

She leans back in her chair, playing it cool, but I don’t miss the flicker in her eyes.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says.

“Not a big—?” I slap my hands on the desk again, her coffee jumping in its cup. “Some psycho knows where you work, is sending you fucked up messages, and you don’t think that’s a big deal?”

She doesn’t say anything, just crosses her arms and hits me with that dry, steady look that always makes me want to argue and kiss her in equal measure.

“You’re moving in with me.”

She blinks. “What?”

“You’re moving in,” I repeat, slower this time. “Tonight. Pack a bag.”

“Walton, you are my fake boyfriend. Not my dad or my boss. You don’t get to decide where I live.”

“Cool. You can be fake all you want. I’m real enough for both of us.”

She scoffs, lips twitching like she might laugh. “Yeah, that’s cute. But this isn’t your call.”

“Don’t care.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I,” I snap. “You think I’m just gonna sit around while some asshole follows you at night and sends you creepy messages? No. Absolutely fucking not.”

“That’s not your call to make,” she seethes. “You don’t get to control where I live just because we’re playing pretend.”

“You think this is me playing pretend right now, sweetheart? This is about you not being scared to walk home. This is about you sleeping somewhere with twenty-four-hour security and a front desk that logs every single person who steps foot in the fucking building.”

She doesn’t answer, but her throat bobs as she swallows, so I press.

“You didn’t go home, Zo. You didn’t feel safe… and you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think it mattered!”

“It matters to me . I’m here because you’re my gir—my friend, and because this”—I gesture between us furiously—“this only happened because of me. You’re in this mess because I pulled you into it. And therefore, you’re moving into my condo.”

Zoe shoves back her chair and stands, eyes flashing. “I’m not some helpless damsel in distress, Walton.”

“You’re right,” I say, straightening too. “You’re strong as hell. But being strong doesn’t mean you have to do it alone, especially if you’re scared.”

That lands. I see it in the flicker of her expression, in the way her breath catches with an edge of fear behind it, the kind you can’t shake off with bravado.

“You didn’t tell me,” I say quietly, “because you think handling it alone makes you stronger.”

She lifts her chin, defensive. “I am handling it.”

“By ignoring it?”

“I reported it,” she snaps. “I’m being careful. I don’t need you to babysit me, Walton.”

I laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because I don’t know what else to do with the swell of frustration crawling up my throat.

“You really think that’s what this is?” I ask, stepping forward just enough to meet her eyes head-on. “You think I wanna babysit you?”

She’s glaring now, and I can practically see the flames licking behind her pupils.

“That’s usually what overprotective, caveman-style bullshit looks like, yeah.”

My jaw ticks, hands flexing at my sides with all the words tied in my chest. And then I just say it, because holding it back is burning me alive.

“I need to keep you safe, Zo…”

It drops between us like a weight, a truth too heavy to take back. Her expression doesn’t change, but something in her body does. A shudder of breath. A twitch of her fingers.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest.”

“Is this where you start pounding your chest and saying I’m yours to protect?”

“No,” I say too fast, and she tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she waits for the rest.

“But you are.”

Zoe scoffs. “That’s not how this works, Chase.”

I stare at her, heart still thudding from her voice echoing my name.

And for a split second, I almost give in.

Almost close the distance between us, almost kiss the fight right off her lips.

I want to wrap her up and prove that my arms, my body, my entire damn life is hers to be protected by.

I want to tell her I would maim, injure, fucking kill for her.

But instead, I ask her the only thing that matters.

“Do you feel safe?”

She stills, then opens her mouth. Closes it. And that tells me more than I need to know.

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, Zo.”

I can tell that’s what cracks her. Not the shouting or the confrontation. Just the truth, bare and raw. She looks away fast, avoiding the way my eyes track her.

“So instead,” she mutters, “you wanna live with me.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

A long silence stretches between us before she sighs dramatically and murmurs, “This is a fucking terrible idea.”

“Probably,” I agree.

She shifts her weight, then lifts her chin stubbornly.

“I have rules.”

I shrug. “Hit me with your worst.”

She holds up a finger. “I listen to whale sounds before bed.”

I blink. “Like… ambient?”

“Like ocean mating season.”

“Okay. Love whales.”

“I have a very specific brand of sparkling water in the fridge at all times. If you take the last one, I will end your life.”

“Fair.”

“Do you snore?”

“No…”

She glares. “You look like you snore.”

I grin. “You look like you cuddle.”

Her lips twitch. “I hate you.”

My eyes crinkle, and I shake my head once, gently.

“No, you don’t.”

She scowls at me, and I wonder if she thinks I’m going to crack, if I’m about to get overwhelmed and backpedal, but I’m not going anywhere. Not when it comes to her.

“I talk in my sleep,” she says.

“Not surprised.”

“I use an electric kettle that screams like a banshee, and I refuse to replace it.”

“Music to my ears.”

“I—” She huffs. “I put pickles on grilled cheese.”

My lips purse together, considering. “…Okay, that one’s unholy, but I’ll recover.”

Her mouth clamps closed as she frowns, fresh out of excuses, and she stares at me for a beat.

“Why are you doing this?”

I take another step closer, lowering my voice. “Because I don’t care if I’m your fake boyfriend, your real one, or your emotional support rubber duck —if something happened to you, I’d lose my goddamn mind.”

She swallows. “You’re actually serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, sweetheart. But I wanna help.”

She’s quiet for a long beat, and her shoulders drop half an inch. I can see the gears grinding, but she hasn’t told me no yet, so I offer one last blow to her resistance.

“You don’t have to be alone in this, Zo. Let my place be your safe place, even if it’s just temporary.”

Stay forever.

Her eyes flicker between mine, and then softly—so, so softly—I hear her exhale the one word I’ve been praying to hear.

“Okay.”

I don’t let myself breathe. I just reach into my pocket and toss the key card onto her desk.

It’s already warm from my thigh, and she picks it up, turning it over in her hand.

My eyes linger on her nails, freshly done.

Cherry red, with tiny white carnations stamped on some of them.

I immediately feel the ghost of them scraping the nape of my neck. My chest. Digging into my scalp.

“Have there been any more messages since yesterday?”

Her fingers still around the key card, and she doesn’t look up right away.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, voice quieter now. “One this morning. Just another comment… said I looked tired from my media circus of a relationship.”

That slow throb kicks up behind my eyes again. “Zoe.”

“I deleted it,” she adds quickly. “Blocked the account.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re gone.” I take a step closer, trying to stay calm. “Do you have pepper spray?”

She hesitates.

“Jesus. Okay. We’re fixing that. What about location sharing? Is it turned on?”

She frowns. “Like Find My Friends?”

“Yeah. And the SOS thing on your phone—the one that alerts emergency contacts if you hold down the side button?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Why—”

“You’re turning it on,” I mutter, already reaching for her phone. “And you’re adding me.”

“Chase—”

“He could’ve grabbed you, Zoe,” I rasp. “He could’ve shoved you into a car, and I wouldn’t have known until it was too late. I can’t—fuck, I can’t—” I scrub a hand down my face, jaw locked so tight it hurts. “I can’t even think about it without going insane.”

Her mouth opens like she wants to argue, but there’s nothing left to say.

“So, this is not a discussion,” I continue. “Add me as an emergency contact. You can revoke it later. But if something happens and I can’t find you—”

“You will,” she cuts in, looking up at me finally. Her voice is soft, but her eyes are steady. “You always do.” Then, a beat later, her lips twitch. “It’s kinda weird and irritating, honestly.”

My eyes bore into hers, jaw beating with my pulse as the silence stretches. Then I clear my throat, forcing a grin.

“See you at home, baby.”

She rolls her eyes. “Get out of my office.”

I don’t bother answering with more than a chuckle, I just turn and walk out, because if I don’t go right now, I’ll reach for her. Kiss her, say something I can’t unsay, and I can’t risk that right now.

Because it’s one thing to want her close.

But it’s everything to keep her safe.