“I carried you.”
Jitters erupt in my stomach, and I can’t tamp them down.
“You fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you, but I also didn’t want you to wake up with a broken neck from sleeping in that chair.”
“Where are we exactly?”
“My room in the bunkhouse. All the other guys sleep on the other side of the loft.”
“Why do you still live here?”
He sits up, wiping the sleep from his face. “I haven’t had a reason to leave.”
“Oh.”
“Lochlan is to me what Thea is to you, Liv. He’s the reason I’m here. I owe him a lot.”
I know he’s the one who started Second Chance Sanctuary, but I don’t think that’s what we’re talking about.
“He’s your best friend.” I don’t know why the words taste bitter on my tongue.
“He was my cellmate when I got to prison. He showed me the ropes and had my back from day one. I wasn’t in a good space, mentally. He saved me, gave me something to look forward to when I got out.”
“What happened to being a professional fighter?” I saw his punching bag in the garage earlier, but I was too afraid to ask him.
He sighs. “It was a silly dream, and I had to grow up. Lochlan and I spar sometimes.”
“For fun?”
“Kind of.” He doesn’t elaborate.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to live your dream,” I whisper in the darkness.
“We aren’t all meant to get what we want.”
After all he’s been through, and everything we went through… I still want him to get everything he wants in life. I hope he does.
“Does Lochlan… Know about me? About us as kids?”
“He does.”
Embarrassment fills me. “He knew who I was when I came here that day to introduce myself to him.”
“Technically, no. This is the girl he knew of…” He opens the top drawer of the nightstand behind him and grabs a photo, handing it to me.
The corners are worn, and the picture itself is faded, but there is no mistaking it. It’s us, 12 years ago. A selfie that I took with my digital camera. I gifted him the photo before…
Before everything happened.
“Why do you have this?”
“I’ve never been without it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I only had a handful of possessions when they locked me up, and even less when I got out, but I always had the photograph.”
“Why?” I ask angrily.
