But the comfort wrecks the threads of the shit day. Everything unravels. I hold my stomach and scream. Tears fall into the grass to meet the sick that already stains the terrain.
I let the thing that’s been clawing around in my gut since moving day have its way. Abject terror. The knife at my throat. The smell of urine in my house. Hope. Being chastised by Dr. Patel. Or feeling like it. Lawsuits. An arranged marriage to a stranger. Being targeted. My goal is just out of reach, being snatched away for money. Profit over people. Revenue over remission.
I scream until my throat is hoarse and the strength in my legs gives out. I’ve almost hit the dirt when strong arms envelop me and lift me. I’m placed into the passenger seat and buckled in. I don’t fight the tears. I don’t fight the defeat. I merely sob as Liam gets back in the car and drives us home.
Liam
There’s no plan when I park. There’s no thought about where or what. I just lift her, tossing her purse over my shoulder, and let myself into my unit.
I don’t know why I don’t take her home, except that it’s further away and with my phone off I can’t access her garage door.
“Stay right here.” I set her on the edge of my bed, placing her bag on the nightstand, and flip on the shower to full hot.
I return to find her exactly as I left her. Her eyes are red and puffy and far, far away, and her lips are swollen from crying.
“Do you need help?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t move from her position.
“Lorien. Real talk.” Her gaze snaps to mine, as I continue, “Do you need help in the shower?”
“No.” Her voice sounds like she scraped it over gravel for a week while smoking too many brown cigarillos.
“You’ve got it?”
“I’ve got it.” She stands and wanders toward the bathroom, stepping out of her shoes along the way.
“I’ll be out here if you need me.”
She lifts a hand in acknowledgement, but I don’t believe her.
I never thought I’d wish to be car shopping. It’s a terrible experience. Okay, a few things are worse. When Ayla spent days not waking up in the hospital. The worry around Sariah and Renée in South Dakota. Watching the light dawn on an innocent woman that the right thing won’t be done so the profitable one can be.
I’m out of my depth.
I can only do what I can do.
I head to the kitchen to chop up some fresh veggies and sauté them until they wilt. Realizing what I need is next door, I let myself into the other unit and grab the rotisserie chicken from the fridge and a few other things we got yesterday.
I don’t think about clothes, which I realize the moment I getback home to find Lorien padding around the kitchen wearing another one of my tees.
They’re worse than the nightie. I have no clue why, but something about seeing her wearing it is hardwired to my cock.
“Decent shower?” I drop the ingredients on the counter as she folds into a chair at the table.
“I guess. I found an extra head for your toothbrush. I hope that’s okay.”
I forgot that too. I suck at this.
“That’s fine.” I pick about half the chicken and drop the meat into the pot with the veggies. “Would you rather chicken soup or chicken with noodles?”
“How did you know?”
I freeze. She’s going to be pissed. I always knew she’d be pissed; but pissed after that scene on the highway might be worse.
“You didn’t answer my question.” I turn toward her.
“You didn’t answer mine. ‘You’ll tell me how if I tell you what’.” She air quotes. “Or was that a lie?”
