Chapter 2
Liv
Idroppedto my knees next to her and brushed the hair off her face. Pain seared through my insides, wildly screaming down my legs. The bits of broken glass around her sliced like razors into my skin, and something sliced sharply into my upper thigh. I cried out her name as I slipped my fingers along her neck, checking for a pulse. I could barely feel the weakest thrum of movement beneath her skin, but I continued to call out her name as if she’d wake up the minute she would hear it. “Mom,” I yelled, “Mom, get up.” Instantly my eyes blurred with tears. “Mom,” I said again, shaking her shoulder, “Please wake up.” Red drops of blood speckled across her sunken face, deep dark hollows of skin and bones.
Something popped loudly on the stove and a burst of sparks whooshed up from the charred pot, engulfing the entire burner in flames. I bolted up instantly.
I lunged for the sink, still screaming at my mother to wake up. The smoke alarm went off, with its sharp piercing wails, as I turned on the faucet and let out a stream of water from the side sprayer. It splashed along the backdrop of the stove and across the top of the range, dowsing out the fire with loud screaming hisses.
My hands trembled as I dropped the sprayer and gasped for air.
The alarm screeched, screeched, screeched.
At my feet, my mother coughed and her eyelids fluttered open. “Stop that damn noise,” she croaked, hoarsely. She twisted her neck and blinked sluggishly in my direction. “Liv?” she choked, “Livie, is that you?”
My body slumped toward the counter with relief, then instantly filled with a rush of white-hot anger. The alarm still howled and pulsed through the kitchen.
Thick, gray smoke drifted between us. I looked down at my mother wanting to scream at her, curse at her, shake her until she acted like the adult she was supposed to be, but all I could do was stand there, fists clenched, holding back tears.
I slipped and slid on the glass and water, falling once, knees hitting hard on the sharp pieces of bottles. Growling out a scream, I pulled myself up and yanked the fire alarm from off the wall, slamming it onto the countertop until the batteries exploded out of the back of it.
I whirled around, panting, ready for whatever excuse she’d come up with this time.Oh, no Liv, I wasn’t drinking; someone must have come in and borrowed my kitchen.
Her lips parted to speak, but a sudden sharp crash exploded behind her, shattering glass everywhere. Both of us flinched from the noise—my mother yelping out a broken scream. The side yard door had busted open and rushing in was a man, sliding over the glass and reaching out for my mother. “Ms. Rhys?” he shouted.
“Dean?” she asked.
“Shit,” I said, standing straighter.
His hands batted at the smoke, waving it away as his eyes scanned the entirety of the situation. He rushed to her side, bending down, knee-deep in vomit and blood, gaze focused and professional. He was wearing his uniform, head-to-toe blue, making my insides soft and fluttery.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Looks like you gave yourself a nice gash there, Ms. Rhys. I’m calling an ambulance for you,” he said, pulling out his phone.
Her eyes turned watery, the whites of them webbed ruby red. She tried to move and moaned in pain.I couldn’t tell if the moan was fake or not, but I was betting she was still so drunk that she couldn’t feel a thing.
“Don’t try to move,” he said, sweeping more hair off her forehead, “Wait until help gets here, and then we’ll get you up. Okay?”
“Liv is here,” she whispered, crooking one finger in my direction.
Dean’s head turned toward me, his body suddenly stiffening. “Liv,” he said, with a quick nod. His gaze swooped down my frame and stopped abruptly at my knees. “Whose blood it that? Are you hurt too?”
The moment he called attention to the bright red trail up my pants, fire burst along my skin underneath. I looked down and felt my eyes widen. “It…must be from all the glass,” I stammered.
His gaze snapped up to mine, pinning me with a steely look. A shiver ran through my shoulders, pins and needles and razors nipped at my legs.
My mother moaned again. He gently grabbed her hand, but his eyes never faltered from mine. “What happened?”
Was that why he was looking at me like that? He thought I had something to do with this?“I have no clue. Last night her phone kept calling my phone, and I drove all night to get here to see if she was okay.” I waved my hand out in front of me. “This is what I walked into. Same thing as you. Except I had to put out the fire on the stove.”
“I didn’t call you,” she groaned from the floor.
“Yeah, well your ass did. Numerous times,” I said, trying desperately to keep my tone even and calm. I should have never come—but if I didn’t—I didn’t even want to think about it. Besides all the smoke, the kitchen was already so thick with guilt and disgust, it was a wonder any of us could still breathe.
“Enough,” his voice ripped through my thoughts, rocking me back on my heels. “Go outside and wait for the ambulance,” his eyes serious and dark.
I obeyed like a little girl—not a twenty five-year old woman.
