Jaxon’s expression doesn’t change. “You’re not walking.” My eyes scan my surroundings, hoping for someone, anything to use as an excuse not to follow his demand.
He tugs gently, guiding me toward his car. I dig my heels into the gravel.
“I said you don’t have to,” I argue again.
“You think I give a s**t? Get in the car,” he says calmly, dragging me with infuriating ease.
I struggle harder, panic starting to claw its way up my throat. “This isn’t necessary! Your girlfriend’s going to lose her mind if she sees you with me!”
That finally gets a reaction. He halts in his tracks, turning to face me fully. For a second, his eyes burn into mine — a strange mix of anger and something else.
“Brielle isn’t my girlfriend,” he snarls. My breath catches.
I search his face, not that there’s anyth
