Page 163 of Faking the Goal

Another bouquet of black dahlias.

I don't think I could survive finding either of them tonight.

Right now...

I just want to be somewhere he hasn't tainted with his presence.

My eyes drift from the passing streetlights to Kentaro.

"...Can we go somewhere else?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I don't care where. I just... I don't want to go home tonight."

Kentaro glances at me briefly before giving a small nod.

"Alright." He says and flicks on his turn signal at the next intersection and takes us somewhere else.

CHAPTER 23

KENTARO

The coffee has just finished brewing, and I'm setting the last plate on the table when Mom walks into the kitchen.

"Is Taylor awake yet?"

The concern in her voice doesn't surprise me. She's been worried about Taylor ever since I told her this morning what happened and why I brought her back here with me last night.

I kept the details vague because Taylor's story isn't mine to tell. All I said was that someone had been harassing her for a while, things escalated last night, and she'd been badly shaken up and didn't want to be alone afterward.

I also told Mom about our arrangement. That Taylor and I are pretending to date because we're hoping having a boyfriend will convince the asshole to finally back off.

Mom listened to the whole explanation without interrupting, but the knowing little smile she gave me when I emphasized the word pretending told me she wasn't buying a fucking word of it.

She didn't call me out, though. She just told me to stay close to Taylor and make sure she knows she has someone she can rely on.

My eyes drift toward the closed door of my bedroom, where Taylor is still sleeping, before I shake my head.

"She's still asleep." I pour Mom a cup of coffee and slide it toward her. "Hopefully she stays that way for a little longer."

After last night—and everything she's been dealing with these past few weeks—Taylor needs the rest.

"Poor girl." Mom's brows pull together as she takes a seat at the table. "She must have been very frightened."

"She was."

Even saying it brings back the way I found her last night. Crying. Shaking. Looking so fucking terrified that for a few seconds, all I could think about was getting my arms around her and making sure she knew she wasn't alone.

Mom takes the coffee but doesn't drink it right away. "Does she have anyone else she can stay with?"

"Not really."

Her expression falls a little more at that. Mom knows enough about Taylor to know she doesn't have family nearby—or anywhere else, for that matter.

"Then she can stay here whenever she needs to," she says simply. "Make sure she knows that."

I look at her. "You don't mind?"