Fix deflated a bit but held firm. “And you made your stance on that clear. We never have to mention it again. I can take a rejection without it hindering my professionalism. And, professionally speaking, I can’t leave you cursed. Especially now that you called me.”
“I knew the card was a trick,” Liam said, but it wasn’t mean. More…snarky. Fix liked it.
“Got me,” he joked back and felt himself warm at the small smile that graced Liam’s lips. Maybe they could just exist without it being awkward. Maybe Fix could be okay with being Liam’s friend. “Now, your curses.”
“It’s—”
“It’s too many of them in such a short span of time. Call it professional curiosity, but I’d like to take this case and get to the bottom of it.”
“What do you mean?” Liam asked.
“Somebody is working really hard to make your life miserable,” Fix said, pretty sure he’d be happy to bash that someone’s head in. “I’d like to figure out where they’re coming from.”
Liam looked like he wanted to fight, but swallowed the words and slumped. “I don’t know where they’re coming from. I’ve been wondering the same thing for years.”
Years?
Scrap the bashing. He felt a sudden urge to burn the world down.
He took a deep breath. “Let me break these curses so we can talk comfortably. Can you tell me again where they are?”
“I…”
“Liam,” Fix said sternly, instinctually letting himself go to that place of control, and Liam instantly nodded, listing them off.
Fix wanted to bask in Liam’s compliance, but he didn’t have the right. However natural it felt for Liam to respond to Fix, he’dmade it clear he didn’t want it, and Fix had said he’d be okay with that. So he had to make sure he did just that.
They handled the curses one by one, Fix systematically checking for any others. It was almost obsessive.
When the apartment was curse-free again, Liam curled up on his couch with a blanket, King jumping up next to him to lie protectively over his lap and make sure there was no room for Fix to sit next to him. It was a little petty, and the look King threw him made sure Fix knew it, too.
The dog had as much sass as his owner.
Fix grabbed a chair from the tiny, round table in the corner and brought it as close as he could. “Do you want to start at the beginning?” Fix prompted gently.
Liam played with King’s ears for a moment in silence, his long fingers tracing out the sharp contours of their peaks and along the ragged side on the left one where a chunk had been taken out of it, cutting off an identification tattoo stamped there.
Fix wondered how that had happened.
He didn’t realize he’d asked out loud.
“It happened before I got him,” Liam said, laying a protective hand over the injury. “He was rescued from a dog fighting ring that was cursing them to fight better, and they said he wasn’t viable for adoption because he might be too aggressive.”
Fix grimaced. He’d heard too many horror stories from a defeated Wren. Curses ran rife within those circles, those immoral assholes looking for an upper hand in the ring by any means necessary.
Liam stroked King’s nose and the dog stared trustingly up at him.
“I took one look in his eyes and knew he was just scared. He’d been treated badly his whole life and never had a chance,” Liam said, the words seeming like they were coming from a deeply personal place.
Fix hated to think that Liam had experienced anything remotely similar. He didn’t make a habit of judging on circumstance or first impressions, but it was pretty apparent to him that Liam’s life was not an easy one. King’s obviously hadn’t been either.
There was a kinship between them that Fix had only seen the likes of between Wren and his darlings. Something that bound them.
Liam came back from the place he’d disappeared to in his head and glanced at Fix, his expression closing down. “I convinced them to let me take him and he’s been with me ever since.”
“He clearly loves you a lot. How long have you had him?”
That coaxed another smile out of Liam, and Fix thought he could get addicted to them easily. “A year now. He’ll be three soon, according to the vet. They had to estimate his age.”
