“Somethingalreadyhappened,” I snap, my breath shaking. “And you are not walking out that door without me.”
I can see him considering as he weighs the risk. After a tense moment, he presses a button on his phone and makes another call.
“Nik,” he says when the call connects. “We’re coming.”
There’s a pause, long enough that I can practicallyfeelthe disapproval radiating through the phone, and Liam drags a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.
“I’ll keep her safe. Scout’s honor.”
Another beat, then:
“I understand. See you there.”
He hangs up, jaw tight, and we gather our things. He takes my hand as we walk the two blocks to his car. His grip is warm andsteady, but I can feel the tension running through him like a live wire.
He hesitates before unlocking the door, giving me that crooked, apologetic grin he always uses when he’s bracing for judgment.
“I’m sorry I have such a shitty car,” he mutters.
For some ridiculous reason, I laugh, and it startles both of us.
“That is the absolute last thing on my mind,” I say as I slide into the ancient Honda.
It’s clean, it’s tidy… but when the engine coughs to life like it just woke from a coma, I choke on another laugh.
“Okay,” I admit, “it’s not… great.”
Liam chuckles and shifts into drive, easing us out of the lot.
And as I look over at him, I see the strong line of his jaw, the focused way he watches the road, and the way his hand rests steady on the wheel. A memory hits me hard and fast.
Suddenly, I’m seventeen again.
He’d shown up in his neighbor’s black Challenger to take me to prom.
He’d stolen cash from one of his mom’s drunken boyfriends just to rent a tux.
And even after he’d slipped the money back, the guy found out anyway and beat the hell out of him for it.
But that night, none of that mattered. We were dressed up for the first time in our lives, pretending we were adults. I’d satbeside him in that borrowed Challenger, studying him as he drove.
Just like I’m doing now.
It feels wrong to slip back into that memory.
Wrong to laugh with him about this beat-up car when everything is falling apart.
Wrong to feel comforted by his presence when my sister and my son were taken because of my connection to him.
I don’t think I’ve even begun to process that.
But it also feels… good. Steady. Familiar in a way that terrifies me. Being here with him, knowing he loves me, knowing he never stopped, makes me feel so much less alone.
“That wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” I hear myself say. “About Laddie. I wanted to tell you. To explain. And I wanted you to meet him.”
My throat tightens on the last part. I look out the window before the tears can spill, blinking hard as the streetlights smear across the glass.
Liam’s big hand finds mine. He gives it a steady squeeze. I look over at him, and for a second our eyes meet—just long enough to make my chest tighten—before he turns back to the road.
