He didn’t move. It was like he could see right through her and already knew the truth. Her heart stuttered as the thought suddenly hit her: if she had unwittingly become an expert on his expressions, maybe he had become one on hers. He could tell when she was lying, when she was exhausted and so overwhelmed with disappointment and regret that she wanted to scream.
“Did Tristan do something?” he finally asked. Some sharp emotion tinged his deep voice.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “First of all, that’s none of your business. Second, even if he had, the last person I would want help from right now is you.”
Something flared in his eyes. “And why’s that?”
“Because I’ve heard about how you help people, and I’m not sure I’m that masochistic.”
That one hurt. She wished she hadn’t said it, but there was no other way to interpret the sting in his eyes.
She should apologize. Or at least tell him what she thought of how he had treated Tristan. Give her words some context. But just as quickly as the hurt had come, it was gone, shuttered behind a cold glare and hard frown.
So instead she said, “Good night, Will.”
She turned on her heel and started walking again, the gravel crunching under her combat boots as she made her way down the long driveway. Behind her, she heard Will curse, but his footsteps retreated in the opposite direction. Probably back inside, shethought. Sure enough, within a few seconds they faded altogether. It should have been a relief—shewantedto feel relief—but instead an odd disappointment swelled inside her, threatening to swallow her up, and she knew she had to keep moving to stop herself from collapsing.
Lizzy had just reached the end of the drive when headlights flared behind her. A car was approaching, its tires rolling along the gravel slowly to maintain its distance. She moved further to the side of the drive, but the car didn’t pass. And when she reached the street and turned right, it did the same.
No. There’s no way…
She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was Will Darcy, behind the wheel of Charlie’s BMW, following about ten feet behind.
Whatever regret she felt about what she’d said evaporated. What part of “I’m fine” did he not understand? Did he think that if he followed long enough, she’d finally concede and let him drive her home?
Absolutely fucking not.
Chin raised, she continued forward, her long shadow preceding her as she marched down Lily Pond Lane with a BMW sedan in tow. He could follow her home. He could follow her to the end of the earth. But she was never getting in that car.
BOOM.
An explosion of light erupted in the sky above. Yellows and reds sparkled, then fizzled out, replaced a moment later by anotherBOOMand a shower of electric blues and greens.
The fireworks illuminated the road, saturating the trees and grass in a rainbow of color. It was beautiful, something that Lizzy would have normally stopped to watch. If it was anyone else in the car behind her, she would have even made a joke about theridiculousness of the situation, shared a laugh before enjoying the view. But it wasn’t just anyone.
It was Will Darcy.
Technicolor explosion after Technicolor explosion filled the sky as Lizzy walked down Lily Pond Lane, then up Ocean Avenue all the way into town. Even in her boots, her feet hurt by the time her house came into sight. But her steps didn’t falter as she finally turned down the driveway, past her father’s boat, and up the steps to the porch.
Will turned down the driveway, too, so the headlights lit up the front door. Lizzy would never admit that it made it much easier to find the spare key under the mat. And she would never tell a soul that she looked back at the car before unlocking the dead bolt.
Or that, despite all the anger and frustration still smoldering in her chest, her heart tripped when she found his gaze locked on her until she disappeared inside.
“Stubborn asshole,” she murmured, then slammed the door behind her.
CHAPTER 13
“Stubborn as shit,” Will cursed as he sped down the dark street, wondering how the hell anyone could find their way home on these back roads during the day, let alone someone on their own in the middle of the night.
It would have taken them two minutes to drive the distance. Maybe less. But Elizabeth Bennet insisted on walking for forty-five fucking minutes instead.
Why was he the only one watching out for this woman? Where was her family? It was maddening. He had never known anyone in his entire life who seemed so cavalier about their own personal safety. Didn’t she realize the reason so many true crime podcasts existed was because those crimes actually happened?
He cursed under his breath again.
The car windows were down, and he was hit with the smell of cool salt air mixed with the lingering scent of smoke from tonight’s fireworks. He hated feeling out of control. He spent most of his adult life working to avoid it. Problems were always carefully managed, potential issues swiftly mitigated. All to avoidthis, a wild panic that clawed deep in his chest, the fear that if he lost that grasp, someone would get hurt.
This was the danger in paying Elizabeth Bennet too much attention, he thought, gripping the steering wheel harder. She wasn’t his problem to fix, especially now that she and Tristan Cole were… friends? Together? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. None of it did.
