by Maegan Abel
I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him to my chest again as I wrapped my arms around him. The emotions I’d tried so hard to rein in earlier broke through as a strangled sob escaped me. I hadn’t been there. I hadn’t been there for either of them when they needed me. The pieces were falling into place, hearing his version of events. Conner had grabbed her phone. He knew how to work our phones and what to do in an emergency, but he was scared and he’d wanted me. He’d sent me the text. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” I whispered into his hair, over and over, wishing I could take away the things he’d felt—the fear, the pain, the guilt.
“I was ‘posed to take care of her. I told you I would.” I shook my head. Between his sniffles and his face being buried in my shirt, I was struggling to make out exact words, but I understood enough.
I kissed his head one more time before pulling back so I could look him in the eye again. “None of this was your fault, Conner. You did so well, you know that? I’m so proud of you.”
He shook his head sadly, meeting my eyes in an oddly detached way. He was no longer crying, or showing any real emotion at all. “I left her. They did bad things to her and told her they’d do worse if we tried to run, but I…” his voice choked off, but he continued. “It’s my fault.”
With that, he rolled away from my grasp, shrugging out from under my hands when I tried to hold him. He stared at the wall as I talked to him quietly for a few minutes, trying to give him reassurances I wasn’t sure he was even hearing.
Something had changed in him and I didn’t know whether I was doing more harm than good at this point, so I trailed off, allowing the silence to descend over us both.
Chapter Seven
Truth
Once I was sure Conner was asleep—and almost sure I’d never sleep again—I slipped out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. As I went to grab a bottle of water, I spotted the partial bottle of tequila on top of the fridge.
I remembered the helplessness I’d felt the night of the fire—the way the alcohol had managed to dull the ache. As consuming as it felt at the time, it was nothing compared to the devastation I felt now. I blinked, dropping my forehead against the cold metal of the freezer door and pushing my fingers under my glasses to rub at my sore eyes. I hadn’t thought it possible to feel any worse, to get any lower, but here I was.
And all I could think about was Lili.
“What is the matter with you?” She laughed, hopping up on the kitchen counter. “You’ve been in here forever. I thought you were just grabbing a drink.”
“Nothing. I…” I trailed off, staring at her as she pulled her hair back, exposing her neck.
“What?” she asked, and I realized she’d caught me.
“You have a…” I trailed off, pointing at the darkened spot under her hairline.
“You did not give me a hickey!” she said, her eyes widening. “Zane!” She reached a hand up, running it over her neck as if she could feel it.
“I’m sorry,” I laughed as she half-heartedly smacked at my arm when I tried to touch it.
“You are such a child. Why would you do something like that?” She made a disapproving sound and started to hop down, but I caged her in, planting my hands on both sides of her hips as I stood between her knees.
“I can’t help it. When you climb on my lap that way, you know what you do to me,” I said, pulling her forward so she could feel my erection.
“There was nowhere else to sit,” she moaned, and the sound was everything I wanted to hear.
“None of us want to walk in on the two of you fucking in the kitchen, but the movie is paused so could you hurry the hell up?” Kas yelled from the living room and Lili groaned as she pulled her face back from mine.
“Oh, yes! Zane! Right there,” she yelled, over my shoulder toward the hall.
We laughed, hearing the chorus of groans from our friends in the living room.
“You sleepwalking?” Tish’s voice coming from the doorway made me jump.
“No. Trying to talk myself out of a drink,” I admitted, opening the fridge and grabbing the water I originally came for. It was starting to feel like I couldn’t escape Lili. She was everywhere. All over this house. Consuming me.
Tish watched me from across the room as I leaned against the counter, twisting the plastic cap off with fingers I wasn’t sure would ever stop shaking again.
“What happened?”
“I have to get Conner help. I don’t…” I let out a heavy breath, trying to swallow back my emotions. “He told me things that I can’t…I don’t know how to help him with this.”
Tish moved into the room, taking a spot across the small island counter from me. It seemed I had his attention now. “What kind of things?”
I studied him for a long moment, warring with myself. “Things that happened. Things I can’t un-know. Things I wish he didn’t know,” I answered as honestly as I could without damning Tish with the weight of the details. Tish’s gaze stayed locked on mine for several moments before falling to the countertop. The anger emanating from him was enough for me to know he understood the implication. “And the worst part is, he blames himself. He feels like he should’ve been protecting her.”
“Sounds familiar.” I watched Tish slowly raise his eyes back to mine.
“He’s a child,” I said, knowing my voice betrayed my repulsion at the parallel Tish drew.
“He’s your child.”
I slammed the water bottle on the counter harder than necessary and focused my attention on the liquid sloshing onto the tiles. This wasn’t Tish’s fault. It wasn’t even him I was angry with. It was just so hard not to snap.
Tish walked around behind me and I listened as he opened a cabinet. The clinking of glasses was followed by a scraping sound before he returned to his spot across from me, placing the tequila bottle and two small tumblers between us. It was only then that I noticed his hands. His knuckles were shredded and two fingers of his right hand were taped together. “What the fuck happened to you?” I asked, reaching automatically to get a closer look.
“You’re not the only one who had a shitty day,” he said, ignoring my attempt to check his wounds as he avoided my eyes. He grabbed the tequila, pouring a generous amount in each glass before pushing one toward me, not bothering to recap the bottle. “Drink.”
I stared directly at him as I reached for the glass, waiting for him to look up, but he didn’t. He closed his eyes as he lifted his head and downed his drink in just a few swallows, hissing in a breath through his teeth when he finished. I continued to watch him until he finally met my gaze.
“What happened?”
“Drink,” he repeated, his tone alone was enough to imply I was going to need the alcohol. I did as he said, swallowing the liquor and doing my best to ignore the fear creeping slowly through my body.
“You know something,” I said, needing verification that my fear was valid. His gaze slid from mine, the hardness in his expression faltering for only a moment before it returned. He grabbed the tequila and refilled our glasses, this time returning the cap to the bottle and shoving it aside. “Tell me.”
He sighed. “I’ve got some leads, connections I made in a life I’ve tried hard to forget existed. Once the pieces started coming together, yeah, I found something.” He stopped there, taking a long swig of his drink. I followed his lead, feeling the burn of the alcohol mix with the anxiety. “There are things I’m not going to tell you. It’s not going to happen. I will tell you I’m working on it. It’s…complicated.” He pressed his fingers to one of his temples. “There are some things that, unfortunately, you do need to know.” He shoved my drink toward me again. “Finish it.”
“Just tell me.”
“No. Trust me. Finish it.” His voice was hard. I blew out an irritated breath, wanting to argue with him but realizing it would be faster just to do things his way. I grabbed the drink, the liquor already in my veins helping to ease the burn as I finished off the second glass.
&
nbsp; “Talk,” I said, leaning my hands on the counter as the room shifted a little in my view. Drinking that much, that fast, wasn’t a good idea.
“She was the target. She was being used as…payment.”
“Payment for what?” I asked, earning a glare. I knew he wasn’t finished talking, but I couldn’t stop the question.
“A debt. Someone,” he spat, “owed money to the wrong people and basically hired someone to kidnap Lili as payment.”
I stared at Tish’s hands as they clenched and unclenched around the edge of the counter, my mind clouded just enough at the edges to make it hard to put together the pieces. “I don’t…”
“You don’t need the details, but she was sold to cover the debt,” Tish said, his voice cold. He lifted a hand when I started to speak. “Don’t. I don’t know where she is and you can’t help her right now, but I’m working on it. I need you to stay out of it, though. You need to stay far away from the shit that’s building. What you need to focus on is your son. And the person who’s responsible for all this.”
“Who?” I asked, surprised at the harsh sound of my voice. I could feel it, the dark anger I’d been trying to keep suppressed since I watched Conner panic about what was happening to Lili. It was building as my mind swirled with images I knew were all too true about what was most likely happening to her.
“Lizzie.” I was shaking my head before I even realized it. “Zane, listen to me. I got her name from three different people. She was in trouble and—”
“No! Our son was kidnapped. Our son! She was terrified. She…” I shook my head, trying to come up with coherent thoughts through the alcohol.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there. Right?” His response was soft, breaking through the confusion. Lizzie had never been concerned that Lili was missing. She didn’t like Lili, but did she hate her enough to do this?
It took a few seconds to realize I couldn’t whole-heartedly disagree with Tish’s theory. And that made me think he might be right.
“I have to go.” I started around the counter, stopping short as Tish grabbed my arm.
“You can’t drive,” he said sternly, the reason for making me drink becoming clear.
“Fuck. You,” I spat, yanking my arm free. “You did this on purpose.” I waited, but he didn’t deny it, he just watched me as I wavered slightly.
“You need to handle it, but not tonight.” He put a hand on my shoulder, probably to steady me. I tried to shrug away again, this time stumbling several steps to the side. Between the anger, the quick consumption of alcohol, and lack of food, I was unsteady.
My fist connected with its target. The sound of Tish’s teeth clashing as his head whipped to the side made me realize what I’d done. He released me, flexing his jaw as he rubbed at the spot, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. With a grunt, I dove forward, my shoulder landing square in his stomach as we both went down hard against the tile.
“Where is she?” I asked, not even recognizing my own voice as I struggled to get the upper hand.
“Stop,” Tish said, rolling me to my back and pinning my shoulders with his knees. His weight was heavy on my chest and as I writhed, something in the back of my mind told me I would be in pain tomorrow. Right now, adrenaline and alcohol were on my side. I bucked and twisted until I freed one arm.
“Let me go,” I growled, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as I tried to yank him to the side. When I finally got my other arm free, I shoved, knocking him backwards as I scrambled over, my fist back to punch again before hands wrapping around my arm stopped me.
“Enough! Jesus Christ, you two,” Kas’ voice and Paige’s startled face were enough to steal the anger taking over. My head buzzed as Paige tugged on my arm again and I allowed her to yank me to my feet.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, dragging me toward the hall.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” she said, reaching up to touch a spot behind my ear. Her hand came away red, confirming it even though I couldn’t feel the wound.
“You’re wrong,” I said as I backed toward the hallway, trying not to stumble. “You’re wrong.”
The horror in his eyes, the pain on his face, and the defeated slump of his shoulders as Kas helped him to a chair all told me he wished he were.
Waking in the morning was painful. My body ached, my head throbbed, and my hands were so swollen, my fingers would barely bend. Blurry images and memories floated in with the light and I groaned, sitting up slowly. Carefully, I stretched my muscles and dealt with the soreness before standing. I wanted to take a pain pill, but ibuprofen would have to do. I needed to get in touch with the therapist and try to get Conner in to see her.
With that thought, I turned toward the bed. A bolt of panic seized me when I noticed he was gone. Since he’d been home, just the slightest stir from him would wake me. I must’ve been seriously exhausted last night. Throwing the door open, I could hear the sound of cartoons coming from the living room. It didn’t completely squelch the fear and I jogged toward the sound, wanting to see him. As I rounded the corner and spotted him curled on the couch under a blanket watching TV, I let out a heavy breath.
“He wouldn’t eat breakfast,” Paige said from behind me. “He’s been really quiet this morning.”
“He didn’t sleep well,” I answered, running a hand over my head. “Can you keep an eye on him while I make a few phone calls and shower?”
“It’s not a problem. I don’t have class until this afternoon.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching him for a second longer before turning toward my bedroom.
Grabbing my phone from the charger, I noticed it was after ten. I really must’ve been exhausted. Digging through my wallet beside it, I found the card from the woman on the plane, Amelia Willis. I was ready to admit Conner needed help I couldn’t provide and I hoped it wasn’t too late.
After talking to a receptionist at the office, I was told Dr. Willis had a full schedule, but once she put me on hold, Dr. Willis came on the line. She remembered Conner from the plane and agreed to fit us in on her lunch break. I headed to the bathroom to shower.
Carefully removing my clothes, I studied my injuries from the fight with Tish. Outside of the swelling in my hands, I had a bandage on the back of my head and a small cut under one eye. Guilt was the only emotion I could find as I searched my face in the mirror. I needed to apologize to Tish. Even though he was wrong about Lizzie—and I still wanted to believe he was—I never should’ve handled it the way I did.
My eyes slid lower, seeing a bruise forming over a tender spot on my ribs. It was near the small scar from the incision where I was shot. Something about this moment, whatever it was, had me remembering the feel of Lili’s hands on my skin. It wasn’t the same bathroom I was in now, but it was in a bathroom. There wasn’t a bruise, either. Nothing about right now should’ve reminded me of her, of that day, but like every other time, I could see her.
Leaning toward the mirror, I carefully ran the razor over my chin. I bent down to rinse the shaving cream off the blade and Lili came into the bathroom behind me, her small, warm hands grazing across my lower back. Since we’d been home from Texas, she’d been more affectionate than I ever imaged she could. She was still feisty and I loved that about her, but the amount of love, even undeserving love, she could show to anyone—to me—was staggering.
“Good morning,” she whispered. Right after she spoke, I felt her body go stiff behind me. I ignored the reaction, straightening to continue shaving as she slowly started skimming her fingers up to the scar on my back. Though I’d only seen it a handful of times since the incident, I knew it looked bad, but there wasn’t much that could be done. The puffy skin of the scar itself was numb for the most part and most of the nerves in that area were damaged, alternating between sharp stabs of pain or tingling numbness when touched by anything. Some days, even my shirt rubbing the scar was enough to irritate it.
“You okay?” I asked as I rinsed the razor ag
ain, watching in the mirror to see if she would look at me. She didn’t.
“I hate this scar.” Her lips pressed against the spot in question twice before she leaned her forehead against my back.
I considered my answer for a long time before continuing to shave. We hadn’t really talked about the shooting or what happened that day. She never wanted to and I didn’t want to push her. But maybe it was time she knew how I felt about it.
When I finished shaving, I grabbed the towel I left on the counter and wiped the remaining traces of white off my face. She hadn’t moved from her spot behind me, her head resting against my back. Slowly, I turned and gingerly lifted her, placing her on the counter so she was eye level. She kept her face down, the thoughts playing through her mind easily readable in her expression.
“Hey,” I said, trying to draw her eyes to me. She glanced up through her lashes. It still amazed me that behind the tough girl I loved with every fiber of my being, the girl who kept all of her pain and darkness hidden from view, was this complex beauty with a heart and soul made purely from everything good and decent in the world. “I love that scar.” Her expression morphed to confusion and I lifted my hands to her cheeks, keeping her face up so she could see the sincerity in my eyes. “That scar, and everything that comes with it, is a reminder that you are alive.”
Though I could see the glossy tears in her eyes, she didn’t let them fall. She took a deep breath, leaned forward, and tilted her chin up to kiss me. “You are unbelievably ridiculous,” she mumbled against my lips, shattering the emotion of the moment with levity that had us both laughing.
I was brought back to the present by the buzzing of my phone. Seeing Lizzie’s name on the screen, I silenced it while I thought about what I wanted to say to her—and whether or not I was prepared to have this conversation now. Honestly, I needed to know. I needed to hear her say she wasn’t involved in what happened.