“Yes,” Liam tells him.
“Hold on,” I plead. “Are you sure? I’m not asking you to do this.”
“I’m doing it because I want to show you how serious I am about there being equality around here.”
Liam leans against the desk, shirtless, then nods to the doctor. “Go ahead. Put it in me.”
I keep waiting for the punchline to follow up, but there isn’t one. The doctor shrugs. “All right. Here we go.”
I can’t bring myself to look once he lowers the scalpel to Liam’s back. I don’t want to see what was done to me, for one thing. It’s just weird.
And… I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to see him get hurt. Even if he hurt me before. I would like to be able to moveon from all of that. A few weeks ago? That would have been a different story.
But now, this is the man who rescued me. We spent eight days in the cabin together, and he gave me all the space and freedom I needed. He didn’t push me into anything, didn’t force me, nothing like that.
So now, I’m not really looking forward to watching him being mangled. It only takes a few moments of me looking away before the doctor sets down his scalpel. “All finished.”
“That was nothing.” Of course, Liam would think so. He’s been shot and stabbed a bunch of times. And now he has the same tiny wound I have. It does sort of feel like balancing the scales, even if I didn’t force him into it, the way he forced me.
“Just another scar,” he reasons while the doctor packs up his things. “No big deal.” I’m glad he can feel that way about it.
He walks the doctor back to the elevator and I go to the bedroom to play on my laptop for a while before going to sleep. It’s funny—there’s nothing normal about this arrangement, really, but coming back from the cabin felt like life was finally coming back to normal. Like I was on vacation, and now it’s time to get back to the everyday stuff.
I’m really not sure how that’s possible, but I do sense it’s how Liam wants things to be. He’s trying really hard, when I should be the one begging him for forgiveness. He should have me on my knees morning, noon, and night after what I did. I mean, it was so easy for Dad to twist me up. I could’ve gotten him killed.
So why does he breeze into the bedroom, looking almost proud of himself? “See? I told you. I meant it when I said I wanted us to be on equal footing.”
It’s almost funny. Equal footing? We’ll never be anywhere close to that. But he’s trying, and he could just as easily decide I’m not worth trying for, so I do my best to look supportive and appreciative. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. And look.” He sits on the bed next to me so he can get a look at my screen. “Do you see that icon at the bottom? Next to email?”
Yes, and I don’t understand why email is even an option, considering all of my communication would be looked over, anyway.
“Click on it,” he urges. “It’s the app for the tracker.”
Okay, now I am interested. I open the app and it runs through a quick login before greeting me with what looks like a layout of the penthouse. There are two blinking blue dots.
“There’s you, and there’s me,” he explains. “Now, you can find me anytime.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. Should I thank him? For what? “Thank you for trying so hard,” I decide to offer. It’s awkward, it’s probably totally out of line, but it’s true. He’s trying.
“Have you thought about school?”
The man never sits still for long, and that includes his brain. It’s always moving. “Only a little.” Before. That’s the word I can’t make myself say. Before everything, I was comparing classes. The day that text came through, in fact. The message that set everything off.
“Classes should start in a handful of weeks. You have time to register.”
I close the laptop and set it on the nightstand before getting up on my knees to face him straight on. “Why are you pushing so hard for this?”
He even looks surprised before he takes a moment to think it over. “You’re not used to people pushing for the things you want. Are you?”
“You know I’m not.”
“You’re right. I do know that.” He gives me a look that tells me he’s waiting for me to catch up. “Which is why I’m pushing for you. If you don’t want to go to school, just say so.”
Sitting on my calves, I feel like some of the wind got knocked out of me. “I do want to.”
“I get the feeling if somebody doesn’t push and encourage you, you might just let it go. I don’t want that for you.”
