Billionaire Unexpected~Jax -J. S. Scott Page 0,18

a fancy Italian sports car that costs more than some people’s houses.”

I stopped myself from pointing out that the price of that particular Ferrari cost more than most people’s houses. There was no point in giving her more ammunition to use.

“Then you’ve obviously never gone from zero to sixty in less than three seconds,” I drawled in a teasing voice.

Honestly, I’d never met a woman who was completely unimpressed with my vehicles, and I found Harlow’s ultra-practical reaction completely fascinating.

She let out a huff. “Yeah, so that’s kind of my point. The thrill is over in less than three seconds, and then you’re stuck with a car that’s extremely overpriced, noisy, and a major gas hog.”

I chuckled. “Sweetheart, zero to sixty in less than three seconds never gets old.”

She snorted as she stopped for a moment to let Molly do a urine drop. “I can’t help but compare it to riding the same roller coaster over and over. At some point, the initial thrill has to wear off.”

“It hasn’t for me,” I told her honestly.

“At least you hang onto cars longer than you do girlfriends,” she mumbled.

A second later, she inhaled sharply. “Oh, God, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. You’ve been incredibly nice to me today, and that was a bitchy thing to say. Your dating preferences and vehicle choices are really none of my business.”

I wanted to tell her that she could criticize my taste in women and cars all day long if it helped chill her out, which it obviously did.

I gently propelled her forward with a small tug until we were walking down the street in front of her apartment building.

The foot traffic was fairly minimal since it wasn’t a main thoroughfare.

“Did you really think I was going to be offended?” I asked, amused. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard thousands of times. Even my own brothers razz me about my dating habits.”

“They’re your brothers. I’m just some woman who’s lost her mind who you’re trying to help,” she said remorsefully.

“You’re not crazy, Harlow,” I told her firmly. “You went through emotional and physical trauma that most people will never understand because they’ll never experience anything like it. I think your sleep deprivation is intensifying your anxiety to the point where you don’t even want to deal with going outside anymore. You think that if something like that could happen once, it could happen again. Plus, you have a knee injury that never quite healed, and that’s just one more vulnerability that you don’t need right now. How am I doing so far?”

“You’re doing so well it’s kind of scary,” she replied with a small sigh. “I’m always exhausted, but most of the time, I don’t want to fall asleep because of the nightmares. Sometimes I dream about things that really happened, like flashbacks. Other times, I dream about Mark getting executed or the rebel leader hurting Taylor, stuff that I didn’t really see. It seems like the dreams just keep getting darker and darker.”

“What do you mean that you never saw the rebel leader hurting Taylor?” I asked.

“I told you that she might have been sexually assaulted right before you and Hudson left for Lania,” Harlow reminded me. “I really think it’s true.”

“She never mentioned it to you?” I questioned.

Hudson and I had always suspected that Taylor had been assaulted by the rebel leader, but after Hudson had gotten closer to Taylor following her rescue, my older brother had never brought the subject up again.

For me, the fact that he didn’t mention it was further proof that it happened.

Harlow shook her head. “She’s never talked about it. I think I’m going to have to ask her straight out, but in my gut, I know she was sexually assaulted.”

She stopped speaking, and I could tell she was focused on a group of people walking toward us.

I squeezed her hand. Any adult-sized person was a threat to her right now, but I could clearly see the college emblem on their shirts. “It’s just a bunch of students, Harlow. Everything is fine.”

I watched as Molly moved to form a perimeter beside and in front of Harlow by moving back and forth in the space so nobody got too close.

“I’m sorry,” she said once the group had passed, sounding embarrassed. “I guess I’m still on edge.”

“Don’t apologize,” I grumbled. “You’re out here walking even though you’re anxious. Give yourself credit for that. How’s the knee?”

I guided Harlow around a corner so we could walk in a square instead of