Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(38)

A heavy weight settled in my stomach as I looked at her back through the windshield. “She told the cops she was Hadley, didn’t she?”

“Legally, that’s who she is now. The cops are pulling security footage of the attack, but Willow doesn’t know who he was and he took off on foot. I’m not holding out a lot of hope they are going to catch this guy. At least not in the next forty-eight hours. She can stay with me for a couple nights, but—”

My head snapped back to him. “The fuck she can. You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m letting her go home with you.”

The side of his mouth hitched. “Wow. Do I sense some jealousy there?”

“It’s not jealousy, you ass. The woman has just suffered a traumatic event. It would be cruel to let you bore her into a coma.”

His smile flashed full blown. “What are you going to tell Rosie about her staying the night?”

“You think she’s going to ask any questions when I tell her Willow’s coming for a sleepover? We’ll all be lucky if we escape with our eardrums intact. Besides, it’s not Rosalee I’m worried about convincing.”

As though she’d heard our conversation, she turned and looked at me through the car. Her gaze hit me like a tangible weight, but it was the anxiety carved in her face and the cop standing beside her that got my feet moving in her direction.

“What’s going on, officer?” I extended a hand his way. “I’m Caven Hunt. A friend of Ms. Banks.”

He shook my hand but looked at Willow. “We don’t have a lot to go on here. We’ve put his description out to the city and all the surrounding counties. I’m going to be real honest with you here. The fact that he didn’t take anything other than your driver’s license is what I find the most worrisome. We can increase patrol through your neighborhood in case this guy decides to pay you a visit, but I’d highly advise that you don’t go home for a few days while we try to figure this out. Do you have somewhere safe that you can go for a few nights?”

I slid my hand under the back of her hair and curled my fingers around her neck. “She can stay with me.”

“Caven, no. You don’t have to do that. I can stay with Beth.”

I gave her neck a squeeze. “You could. But remember what I said about you being surrounded by paramedics and police. I’d feel a lot better if you were under my roof with my security system tonight.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked to Ian.

Ian. Like he was suddenly her keeper and not mine.

He winked and tipped his head toward me. “I don’t think this is the box you think it is.”

What the fucking hell were these boxes they kept talking about? And when had they become winky, she-can-stay-at-my-place friends? What the hell was he even doing at the grocery store with her that day?

I swung a scowl between the two of them, but it was erased when Willow lifted her gaze to mine and asked, “Can we grab some things from my place first?”

It should have been relief that swelled in my chest.

Relief that she wasn’t going to argue.

Relief that I might actually be able to sleep that night without having a nervous breakdown.

And relief that I wasn’t going to have to kidnap her and hold her hostage at my house for a few days.

But fuck me, all I felt was excitement that I’d get to spend more time with her. I hated the reason, but while having her in my house for a few days sounded like torture to one side of my brain, it also felt like a winning lottery ticket to the other.

“Yeah, babe. We’ll swing by your place.”

The cop nodded. “I’ll have a cruiser follow you. Just in case.”

We waited twenty minutes for the police to finish up with the paperwork. Willow alternated between hanging her head and forcing a smile for anyone she caught looking her way.

She was shit for an actress though. She wasn’t going to make it much longer without breaking down. And damn if I didn’t want to get her the hell out of that parking lot so she could have that moment in private.

Well, private with me.

When it was all wrapped up, at least temporarily, Ian offered to drop Willow’s car off at my house and catch a cab back to get his own. She didn’t argue or offer anything more than a resigned, “Thanks, Ian.”

In a true show of maturity, I only contemplated breaking his fingers for a second as he pulled her in for a side hug and whispered something into her ear. She smiled up at him, sad and wholly broken, then gave him one of her signature forearm squeezes that were usually reserved for me. Okay, so I’d lied. I’d contemplated breaking his fingers for two seconds. But I didn’t follow through and that’s all that counts.

The police had bagged her purse as evidence, so when she climbed into the passenger seat of my SUV, she did it with nothing but her phone, a small makeup bag, and an empty expression.

“You okay?” I asked as I pulled out of the parking lot with a police car on my tail.

“I’m gonna need to get back to you on that.”

I grinned. “You need to dry-heave?”

“Ummm…” She dropped her head back against the headrest. “That has yet to be determined. But have no fear—I promise I won’t do it in your car.”

I chuckled, thankful that she at least still had a sense of humor, one that I’d missed greatly over the last month.