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We were sixteen.
My mam had left me the house, a meager bank account, and a stack of signed emancipation paperwork on the kitchen table in lieu of a goodbye note.
Running with Liam was the only thing that worked to clear my head, and running for our school’s team was the best way for me to dedicate myself, to wholly commit to something outside of my grief.
I was always good at the actual running. The pure escape I felt from my body’s steady beat became its own incentive. What defeated me was the strength training our coach assigned. Liam—being my kind, protective Liam—insisted on helping me.
He’d been keeping so close to me ever since my mam left. All of the O’Sullivans were there for me, but Liam most of all.
He told me to meet him in the school’s weights room after I got out of study hall. I’m not proud of it, but I cut out early. I was struggling to focus on any schoolwork back then, and the thought of meeting up with Liam had me giddy.
Everyone knew we were friends in a neighborly way, just like everyone knew he was dangerous. That was Savannah Welling’s favorite word for him.
“There’s something dangerous about him, don’t you think?” Her eyes sparkled when she asked me, enhanced by her long eyelashes, still wet from the locker room shower. Savannah was the type of girl completely unashamed of her body, stripping down after gym class without a second thought.
“I guess so.” I pulled my towel tighter around myself. Of course I knew there was something dangerous about Liam, something that attracted the other girls to him in a way that went beyond his good looks.
After I’d snuck out of study hall and changed into my workout gear, I padded down the deserted hall to the weights room. When I heard Liam’s deep laughter, my chest swelled. His joy was the only sound that brought me any happiness in those days. But when I heard Savannah’s high-pitched giggle in response, my heart plummeted like a cold stone.
I stopped outside the weights room door, tucking myself into a corner beside a row of lockers. With my heart racing, I strained to hear anything over the pounding in my ears.
Savannah was flirting with him, that much was obvious. But what brought the sting of tears to my eyes was to hear Liam flirting back. I bit my lip hard, trying to get ahold of myself. Liam and I were friends, I didn’t have any claim over him.
As I breathed through the rising swell of my confusion and self-pity, I realized that Liam and Savannah had gone quiet. I knew that peering around the corner would be a mistake.
I did it anyway.
Liam was on his back on the bench press, and Savannah was straddling him, her cornsilk hair tumbling over his face. What I saw most clearly were his hands, squeezing Savannah’s butt as she ground her pelvis on top of his.
There’s something dangerous about him.
I felt my thighs tighten, and I knew I was just as turned on by Liam’s danger as Savannah was. And with my stomach twisting into cold knots, I realized for the first time that Liam could hurt me.
It wasn’t his fault, because of course he hadn’t meant to hurt me, but that’s when I knew we could never be more than friends. If our close friendship could cause me this much pain, then I’d never be able to endure a real relationship with Liam.
As I ran back down the deserted hall, I made a vow to myself.
I would never allow myself to fall in love with Liam O’Sullivan.
Chapter 31
Brioni
The clarity I find in running is usually temporary, lasting for several hours at most. Today, it disappears as soon as I turn on the shower in the penthouse.
I’m a killer.
I saw the truth of it in his eyes, I know the truth of it in my soul, and yet I still can’t consciously accept that fact about my best friend.
I shake my head beneath the flow of hot water. Liam swore to me that he won’t kill Harrison, and that’s what matters most.
After I dry off, I pull on my loungewear: loose yoga pants and a babydoll tee. It’s nothing sexy, nothing Savannah Welling would ever be caught dead in.
I hear the spray of Liam’s shower still going, so I take the opportunity to check out his gym. I felt strong today during our run, stronger than I’ve felt in months. It was more than just the act of running, it was running with Liam, being constantly reminded of how he makes me feel in my body. The way he worships me is its own runner’s high, validating and euphoric.
His penthouse’s gym looks like the spaceship version of our high school’s weight room, all clean lines and continuous mirrors, with rows of high-tech equipment and racks of sleek weight sets.
