Page 79 of Make the Play

“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 tome. 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 becauseIpulled 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. “Iamhandling 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, fuckingkillfor 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.

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