“Your work is demanding enough without additional concerns,” he adds, directing his attention back to Liv. “The driver is a precaution.”
“A very intense precaution,” she mutters.
I almost smile.
Breakfast continues like that with light conversation layered over tension that never full leaves the room and Liv’s persisting nervousness about being here. Liv answers questions about her work with ease. Her voice stays steady and confident. She doesn’t shrink under my father’s attention. She meets it.
For a second, I see it. The version of her that belongs anywhere, even here.
My father’s gaze lingers on me a second longer than it should, like he’s filing something away. He always is.
The garden is quieter than the house, that’s why it’s always been my favorite place on the property. I brought Liv out her after breakfast to get some air.
Liv walks a few steps ahead of me, her hands tucked into the pockets of the sweatshirt she borrowed from my old closet after realizing she didn’t pack any. It swallows her frame, sleeves too long, causing the hem to brush her mid-thigh. She looks softer in a way that fits in the garden.
I send a quick text to Mason explaining what’s going on, like he hasn’t figured it out already, and let him know that I won’t be in today. I need to make sure I get Liv familiar with the property and comfortable enough here before I leave her alone.
As I stuff my phone back in my pocket, I notice she’s focusing on a large purple lilac plant next to a bench.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe I ever lived here,” I say, half to myself.
Her eyes flick to mine. “Yeah?” she asks.
I shrug lightly, joining her by the lilacs. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“That makes two of us,” she murmurs.
“This place is insane,” she blurts, glancing around at the perfectly maintained grounds. “Like… do people actually live like this?”
“Some do.”
She shakes her head. “I’d break something in the first hour if not supervised.”
“You haven’t yet.”
“Give me time.”
A faint smile tugs at my mouth. It fades just as quickly, because I can’t stop thinking about the warehouse, the stakeout, and the way everything is starting to connect in ways I don’t like.
About her.
“You’re doing it again,” she says.
I glance at her. “Doing what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what.
“Thinking too loud.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Occupational hazard.”
She turns to face me, the sun reflecting in her hair and lighting up a slight tinge of red amongst the brown locks that I hadn’t noticed until just now.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asks.
I step closer, close enough to see the shift in her expression. Close enough to tell her everything. I almost do… but stop just before I let it spill.
“Working angles,” I say instead. “Trying to stay ahead of this.”
Her gaze lingers on mine, like she knows that’s not all of it. But she lets it go, for now. “Okay.”
