Because of Liam

by Erica Alexander

  “Better?” he asks and I want to give him a witty and sarcastic answer and punch him at the same time. Old habits die hard. But I can’t move, not even to speak. I have no legs or arms. My body is melted into the bed. I’m a puddle. Liam laughs at me and I can still feel his hardness.

  “You,” I mumble.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m going home to shower and think of you.”

  Then he scoops me up as if I weigh nothing, pulls the covers, and settles me on the bed. He tucks me in.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Liam walks to the door but stops and stays just behind it.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I can’t go out there like this.” He gestures at his groin, the outline of his erection clear for anyone to see.

  My eyes drift down and I bite my lip.

  “You’re not helping, River.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he says and adjusts himself.

  I smile because really, what else could I do? He groans and turns around, resting his forehead on the door.

  “I can still feel you looking at me. Turn around and don’t look at me. I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to get you water and something to eat before I go home.”

  I turn around, but I’m still smiling.

  A minute later I hear the door open and I call out to him with a loud whisper, “Don’t impale anyone with that thing.”

  He stops, the door half open. “Oh fuck, now you did it again.”

  I’m trying not to laugh, but my whole body is shaking with mirth.

  He glances over his shoulder at me. “I will make you pay for this.”

  “Promise?” I whisper, the laugh no longer in my voice.

  Liam says nothing, but his eyes go dark with promise before he leaves my room and quietly closes the door.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  As soon as I step in the hall, Skye and Logan look at me from their spot on the couch.

  I walk into the kitchen and grab two water bottles, a couple of cheese sticks, and a bunch or grapes. I set them on the counter and open cabinets until I find what I’m looking for, pulling out a box of crackers. When I turn to Logan and Skye, they’re both looking at me expectantly. “She’s okay. Or she’ll be okay soon enough.” I look pointedly at Logan, willing him to read what’s in my eyes and he gets it. I can tell by the way his eyes open slightly and the press of his lips.

  I look at Skye. “She will talk to you. Just give her a little time.” Then I look at Logan again with a warning not to say anything. This silent communication is something we developed as kids so we could make sure our stories matched when we did something that would annoy our father, a way to avoid his fury. And every little thing annoyed him and unleashed his anger on us. We got really good at silent communication.

  I return to her room and close the door behind me. River’s sleepy eyes are on me. I sit on her bed and brush a lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin is no longer blotchy, but her eyes are still red. A small smile plays on her lips and I place the food on the bed between us. “I come bearing gifts.” I grab a water bottle, break the seal, then give it to her. River sits up and takes a long sip from. There’s a question in her eyes. “I told them you’re okay and to give you time, but you need to talk to your sister.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I will—I just need time to get my head around it.”

  “I know you do. But first eat something and then go to sleep. Call me when you wake up or if you need anything, okay?” I open the second water bottle and drink from it as River pops a grape in her mouth. “I’ll tell your sister you’re sleeping and not to disturb you. Is that okay?”

  She nods. I run my knuckles across her cheek, lean in, and kiss her forehead. My lips linger on her skin. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of her. River smells like something exotic, spicy with a touch of cinnamon. It’s heady.

  “I want to talk to Logan. See what he can do in a case like this. Is that okay with you?”

  She hesitates. “I guess. I-I feel so ashamed. I feel so stupid.”

  “Look at me, River.” When I’m sure her eyes are on me and she’s taking in every word, I continue. “Do you think I’m stupid or I should be ashamed for what happened to me?”

  “No!” Her reply is fast and angry. “Of course not! None of it was your fault. You had no control over it. You didn’t choose it. How can you even ask me such a thing?”

  “Exactly! I didn’t choose or have control over it any more than you did. You were drugged, and I was overpowered. It wasn’t your fault any more than it was mine. We both should have been able to feel safe among friends. If you feel this way about me, then grant yourself the same level of respect and kindness you’ve shown me. Can you do that?”

  “I can. I guess it would be very hypocritical of me to judge my situation any differently than yours.”

  “That’s my girl. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Liam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you stay with me until I fall sleep?”

  I move the food to the nightstand and settle in her bed. She curls into me, her back to my chest. My arms find their way around her waist as if they had done this a thousand times before. Her body melts into mine. Her scent, the way her chest rises and lowers with each breath, it’s all so new to me and yet so familiar. Like remembering a dream. Something that has never been real before and yet I’ve lived it. Memories of a tomorrow I hope for.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  When Logan and I are finally alone at home, I know I can’t put it off any longer. Logan won’t let me get away with not saying anything.

  He locks the door behind us and drops his keys on the table. Then turns to me as he toes his shoes off. He’s waiting, his eyes trying to read me and hear what I’m not saying. He’s in full cop mode now.

  I run my fingers through my too long hair. I’ll need to cut it soon.

  He walks to the living room, sits, and waits for me. I exhale and sit across from him.

  Logan waits. He doesn’t say a word. Again, cop tactics. If you wait long enough, the other person eventually speaks to avoid the uncomfortable silence. I’m not uncomfortable about the silence. What bothers me is the fact I have to share a secret River kept for an entire year even if she did give me permission to talk to Logan. I imagine she’s talking to Skye now or will talk to her soon. Shame and pride kept her silent long enough. Some people may never understand that kind of silence. That kind of denial, but I do. One would think a victim of such a horrible thing would want to run to the police and demand their attacker be arrested. But I know different. Even with proof and witnesses, such crimes are hard to prove and all too often fall into the hands of overpaid lawyers or dismissive judges. It’s not a question of who’s the criminal and who’s the victim but a question of who has the best lawyer or the most power behind them. It sickens me and my first instinct is to say, ‘fuck the law’ and take it into my own hands. I’d love to put my hands around that asshole’s neck and watch his eyes dull and roll over as I squeezed the life out of him. After I beat the shit out of him first. But River read my intent all too well and made me promise I wouldn’t do such a stupid thing. Killing him or even hurting him is not worth me going to jail, and Karma will take care of him one way or another. Well, fuck if I don’t want to change my name to Karma.

  I look down at my hands and realize I’ve been fisting one hand into the other and cracking my knuckles. My hands itch to cause damage, to break bones. I can barely contain myself. I feel like a caged animal and my own memories come back. I gave River the cliff notes version of it, but there was so much more. Yeah, the five bastards who attacked me beat me pretty good even if they were careful not to leave any marks on my face, but they never finished the job they had intended on. The beating was just to let me know they could, that they had overpowered me. They were trying to break me down. My body fi
rst, then my spirit. Hannah saved me. She saved me that day, and she continued to save me every day after. Somehow, she got all five of them transferred far away from me. By the end of the week they were gone to separate places. I never heard of them again, so maybe Karma took care of them too. Hannah was more than a friend and a mentor. She was the one spot of light in the darkness that fell over me for months afterward.

  Had they’d been successful on their intent, I don’t know what I would have done, but I’m pretty sure I would not be here right now. I think—I think I would have killed myself. I would not be able to live with myself if their intent had come to completion. Half of me can’t imagine what River is going through and the other half has a very good idea. I think River having no memory of it might be a blessing. God knows I’d love to be able to forget what happened to me and what almost happened. I’ll never forgive them and I’ll never forget it. Be it in nightmares or flashback, or just random memories hopping into my head, it’s always there.

  Except when I’m around River. I never think of that day when she’s present. I never think about the day Hannah died either. At first, I didn’t realize, but after a few chance encounters, it dawned on me that whenever she’s near, the random haunting thoughts in my mind take a back seat to her. It made me angry and grateful. Angry I forgot the sacrifice Hannah made for me. She saved my life again, one last time at the cost of her own. I don’t want to forget that, not for a day, not for an hour, not for a second. I owe Hannah more than my life. I owe her my sanity. I owe her all the days ahead. Days she will not have. Days her husband and daughter will go through without her. And then I feel gratitude because for those few moments of whatever the hell we have between us—be it a joke, an argument or a lot of teasing and sexual frustration—for those moments, I forget. For those moments, none of the past happened, and I’m just a twenty-three-year-old guy who’s acting like a high school kid being a jerk to the girl he’s attracted to. And I’m attracted to River. There’s no denying it. All sexual innuendos and not-so-subtle sex jokes aside, from that very first day when she dumped her fruity drink on me, I’ve felt drawn to her. I may have been pissed as hell that spring morning, but my dick was ecstatic. Which pissed me off even more.

  I look back at Logan, silently watching me still. Studying all the emotions crossing my face.

  I let a heavy breath out, moving my head from one side to the other, trying to shake off the tension of the last few hours, and then I speak.

  “She didn’t sleep with Jon. But he did see the beauty mark on her body.”

  Logan narrows his eyes at me, trying to hear what I haven’t said and a second later he gets it.

  “He raped her.” It was not a question. “But she never reported it. Why?”

  “She didn’t know it was him until Skye asked her about it. The beauty mark comment gave it away.”

  “She was drugged?” he asks me, but he already knows the answer.

  “Yes. She doesn’t remember anything other than taking a few sips of a drink and waking up in a bathroom several hours later.”

  His eyes drift from mine. “Jesus! I’ve seen this happen so many times, but you never think it can happen to someone you know. Does she want to press charges now?”

  “She said yes, but I don’t think she’s sure. And I’m not sure he’ll be served justice either. It’s been a year, and all we have is her word against his.”

  “Yeah, but guys like him, they very rarely do it just once. There has to be other victims. This may be happening to other girls even now.”

  He looks at me then and sees the intent in my eyes.

  “No!” His voice is firm, and it leaves no doubt he’ll fight me on this. Logan has had my back my whole life and I his, but we’re not in agreement on this one.

  “No, you can’t do it, Liam. As much as you want to go after this guy and fix this yourself, you can’t.”

  “Why not?” I ask in defiance.

  “You know why. You can’t be a vigilante. You can’t take matters in your own hands and go beat the shit out of him. He’d come back and send your ass to jail for assault.”

  “Who said I’d let him come back? Scum like him does not deserve to breathe.”

  “So, you’d turn into a murderer?”

  “Not a murderer. I’d just give Karma a little hand. Make things move along a little faster.”

  “Yeah? And what about when Karma comes after you to fix your wrongdoing?”

  I shrug.

  “We’ll get this guy, I promise you. But let’s be smart about it. He has probably done this more than once. Some of the girls might remember something. We can watch him. We can prevent him from doing it again. We can go after him, but we’ll only catch him if we’re smart about it.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Promise me, Liam, promise you’re not going to go off on your own and do something stupid.”

  I meet his eyes. “I’ve already promised River I wouldn’t.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Liam shows up minutes after I get home and he has my favorite drink, raspberry lemonade. He must have been watching out for me.

  It feels awkward, being with him again after what happened. After all we shared and me begging him to make out with me.

  I guess I lost that bet, but he has not brought up any of it.

  Going to class today was strange and liberating at the same time. Now that I have a face for my attacker, I feel safer. I’ve spent months and months wondering if every guy I came across was the one. Had been the one and was just biding his time to do it again.

  I rarely come across Jon on campus. It’s big enough that one can easily go all four years and never meet another person unless they are in the same majors or buildings. He and I are not. Come to think of it, the only places I saw that asshole after Skye broke up with him was at parties.

  I hesitate for a moment before taking the cup from his hand. I take a sip and my eyes drop to the floor. We’re still at the open door. Neither of us has said a word yet. Liam breaks the awkward silence.

  “Can I come in?”

  I nod, still not saying anything. What can I possibly say to him now? I have no idea what to do when we’re not at each other’s throats. Well, with exception of yesterday. But now, under the bright afternoon light and being somewhat removed from the initial shock, I don’t know who we are to each other anymore. Do we go back to harassing each other and throwing barbs? Are we kind of friends now? Did the kissing and making out mean anything beyond him trying to comfort me because I begged him to? Does he feel sorry for me and that’s the only reason it happened? The thought of Liam pitying me fills me with anger. I don’t want him to pity me. I don’t want him to look at me and see the rape. I want him to see me. Just me. Nothing else.

  My feet take me to the living room and I sit on one end of the sofa, legs folded under me. Liam takes a place on the sofa as well, close enough to touch but still giving me space. He seems to know I need some distance between us. He’s studying me, trying to read me. I hate that, and I need that. I need someone to see into me and hear the words I can’t speak. I’m a fucking mess. Why would anyone want to be near me now? I don’t even want to be near myself.

  He takes the cup from my hand and puts it on the table but not before picking up a magazine and using it as a coaster. Attention to detail. I guess he figured Skye’s pet peeve about wet cups on the table.

  “Hey, how are you?” His voice is soft but not tentative.

  How am I? How the fuck am I? Anger simmers to the surface and it must have shown in my eyes. Before I have a chance to say a word, his fingertips touch my lips and silence me. The gesture so tender, so filled with care, it calms me down. Anger dissipates like sugar melting in water.

  “No, River. No. I don’t want a BS answer. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry. That’s not what I’m asking. I’m not asking about the consequences of what happened. I’m not asking about the side effects of wha
t you found out yesterday. I want to know about you. The you that exists beyond all that. The only you that matters. The real you. The you we shared yesterday. That’s the you I’m asking about.”

  I shake my head as if I have no clue what he’s talking about, but I can’t lie to him any more than I can lie to myself. He sees me. I wanted to be seen and got that. I have always been an in your face kind of person. Always acting strong and with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck-attitude. But there’s a part of me that does care. There’s a part of me that just wants to have someone to be in charge for once. I’m tired. So tired of keeping my defenses up.

  He waits me out.

  “I’m tired, so tired, Liam.”

  My confession escapes my lips against my will and on the same breath I pull my defenses back up.

  “No. Don’t do that. We’re way past that point. Don’t go back.”

  My gaze drops from his. I’ve lost the courage to look into those gray eyes. If I do, he’ll break all the barriers I’ve built around me. And then what? I don’t know. I never allowed anyone to get this close to me. To see this much.

  “Let me in, River, and I’ll do the same. I’ve already done it. You know more about me than anyone else does.”

  My lips part, but no words came out. Again, I wonder, is it strange that of all the people I could have confided in, Liam is the person I chose to open up to? Not my sister, not my parents, or any of my friends. It’s Liam I feel safest with.