“A perimeter run. To check for any danger.”
My patience evaporated. “Fuck, Liam. I’m not in any danger.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you patrolling my neighborhood like a personal security guard?”
He met my gaze. “It’s a ritual that makes me feel safe. Like I’m in control. It makes me feel like I can prevent something bad if I only run a few laps.”
That answer made me pause.
He continued carefully. “I know it sounds unreasonable.”
“It does.”
“But I can’t leave without checking.”
I rubbed my forehead again.
This conversation had officially moved beyond my current emotional processing capacity.
“Liam, you cannot spend hours roaming around my home.”
“I understand.”
“You cannot build furniture in my apartment without my permission.”
“Okay.”
“You cannot conduct patrols around my neighborhood.”
“You’re right.”
“You cannot break into my apartment because of potential thievery.”
“I know.”
I pointed at the truck. “You need to go home.”
He nodded slowly.
“And if you ever want to come here again,” I continued, “you need to be invited or you need to call ahead.”
“Okay.”
“No more surprise patrols.”
A nod. I studied him. He looked calmer now than he had in the lobby, but the exhaustion around his eyes remained.
“Are you safe to drive?” I asked.
“Yes.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
I raised a hand. “Please don’t.”
He stopped speaking immediately.
“I have had a really bad night,” I said.
