Like a wave, a sharp shift in pressure crashes into me as the tide of voices momentarily pulls back. The door of the restaurant opens, and my spine tells me before my eyes do when the air turns icy. It isn’t a dramatic entrance, but it stops me mid-laugh, mid-freedom falling.
Liam stands at the threshold. He doesn’t belong in the airy beige and white restaurant, he brings the dark with him. He has a black shirt clinging to his frame, sleeves rolled up to reveal the ink coiled up his forearms like snakes made of shadow. Hisjaw tight, five o’clock stubble tracing its edges. He looks even more intimidating than I remember, shadows curling under his cheekbones and his eyes, blue eyes so icy he could melt Snow White’s Evil Queen.
Mirror,mirroron the wall, he’s the most dangerous of them all.
He scans the room once and finds me like wreckage finds a lighthouse, and panic radiates through me when Tyler’s hand lands on my waist like a claim.
Anne follows my line of sight, then pales. “Should I—?”
I refuse with a small motion, already on my feet, legs trembling. I slide around the table, out into the corridor of sand, with the vibration of my heels barely holding me up but walking towards him with the confidence I muster despite wanting to curl in a box. The last thing I want is for him to approach the table. While I can endure his anger, I will not allow him to punish my friends as well.
I meet him just outside the front door. For a moment, neither of us speak. I am conscious of the way my body clings to my dress, the heat of the alcohol in my cheeks, the rawness of him in my space.
“What are you doing here?” My voice barely carries. There’s no anger yet, just shock laced with something darker, to my surprise.
Liam’s eyes scan the restaurant, the people, the candles, the way I’m dressed.
“Didn’t take you for the type to celebrate.”
I swallow. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”
He exhales, and for a split second, something in his face cracks as if he understands that.
“I came to see for myself.” He taunts, his voice flat.
“See what?” I ask, pulse skittering in my chest.
He looks at me hard, and it feels too intimate. I haven’t seen him in three months, give or take, and looking at him is… painful. He reminds of Joe, an evil Joe. Nonetheless… My Joe.
“If you even flinched thinking about Joe tonight.”
The air leaves my lungs. “Liam…”
“What?” he asks sharply, taking a step closer toward me, and my breath feels labored. “You miss him? Don’t you?” He cuts me off before I can say a word. “Yet you play games.”
My gaze lifts to his face, aching. “Why are you trying to make me the villain?”
“Because someone has to be.” He mocks, and there’s something hollow in it, “and it can’t be him.”
He leans in close to my ear, voice dropping to a whisper that slides right under my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He smells of a man and ashes and clean laundry.
“Congratulations.” His voice is low with caution.
I blink. “What—what does that mean?”
He crooks a smile as it flickers on his lips, looking away. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It means your games come with consequences now.”
Heat of anger floods my cheeks.
“What consequences?” I start, but then a shadow moves behind me.
Tyler.
He steps up to my side like a wall, tall and claiming.
“Everything okay here?” he asks, gaze locked on Liam as if he is ready for a fight.
Liam’s eyes go blood-hot, jaw twitching, holding back, and the sight of him bothered is slightly enjoyable. I’ve never wanted to plan someone’s funeral as much as do with his.
