by Loretta Lost
“I’m never coming back to that house again,” I tell Carmen firmly. “I’ll send someone to pick up my things, but this is it for me. Before you married Grayson, you knew he had violent tendencies. You could have prevented all this, but you chose to put us all at risk. You have never given a fuck about me or anyone else, Carmen. You only think about yourself. I’m done. I can’t be your sister anymore.”
“That’s not fair!” Carmen yells back. “I never meant for you to get hurt. I told you that I’m pregnant! I have to think about my baby. Why can’t you understand that? I chose not to put my baby at risk of growing up without a dad.”
“Sure. But now your kid will have to grow up without an aunt,” I tell her in a quiet voice. “Goodbye, Carmen.”
“Helen! You’re being emotional and rash. Just come back home and we can sort this out. I need to take Grayson to the hospital. I don’t know what happened, but we’ll just tell them that he was mugged.”
“He shot Liam,” I tell her again. “Do you even care?”
“I do. It’s just so hard to believe. Is Liam alright?” Carmen asks.
Annoyed at her delayed fake concern, I hang up the phone. I toss it to the ground of Liam’s car and put both of my hands in my hair. “Fuck!” I say in exasperation to Liam. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”
“I’m the one who dragged you away from your sanctuary,” he responds softly. “I should be apologizing. But are you sure you want to cut ties with your sister? It’s not her fault.”
“Carmen chose this. I was already gone—she’s the one who begged me to come home. I was looking for a reason to stay, but instead, she reminded me of all the reasons I left. She ruined our relationship when she chose to go ahead with marrying that monster. If she’s going to call him family, I can’t call her family. If I keep associating with her, she’ll get me killed.”
“Maybe they’ll break up now that he’s tried to hurt you,” Liam says.
“I doubt it. He had already hurt me, and it seemed to make no difference to her. She didn’t even want to know.”
There is a silence in the car after I speak these words. Liam seems unable to respond, and I think we both need a moment to ponder the events. After a few minutes pass, he reaches over to place his hand on my leg in a gentle caress.
“Let’s look on the bright side,” he says softly. “Now that you’ll be staying with me, we can spend a lot more time together. I hope you’ll like my apartment. It’s very small, but it’s home.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely,” I tell him, putting my hand over his. “Thanks for helping me get the hell away from that place.” I finally begin to relax and calm down as I interlace my fingers with his. I can’t believe that just a few hours ago, I was tipsy and having a good time. The gunshots somehow made me instantly stone cold sober.
It suddenly occurs to me that I might be moving in with Liam. We haven’t talked about it at all, and our relationship is certainly not ready for this. I don’t have the energy to stress out about this tonight, as my main concern is putting my aching head down on a pillow and drifting off to sleep. However, it does seem like I might be stepping out of one dangerous situation and into another.
“I should be getting a royalty check by the end of the week,” I tell Liam. “I could look for my own place after that, or use the money to get back to New Hampshire—so you don’t have to worry about being stuck with me.”
“Winter,” Liam says lightly, tightening his grip on my hand. “You can stay as long as you like. It will be my honor to have you for as long as you can stand me. Besides, I’m already stuck on you pretty bad. You occupy my thoughts all the time; you might as well occupy my apartment!”
I lower my chin in embarrassment at his sweet words. “I must have done something amazing in a previous life to deserve a guy like you. You’re a hero, Liam. Rescuing the damsel in distress and whisking her away into the night—taking a bullet for her. This is classic hero stuff.”
“Wow!” he says in surprise. “I guess you’re right. I am a hero!” He seems thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll have to brag about it later to Owen. He can add getting shot to his list of romantic date ideas.”
My lips curl upward in a smile—I still feel puzzled at my ability to smile after all this. With Liam beside me, even the worst situations don’t seem so terrible. He is able to lift my spirits and help me feel positive about the future, even though my present and past are impossibly dark.
Maybe the future really will be brighter, in every sense of the word. Maybe, with Liam’s help, I will actually be able to see a sliver of light someday soon. Both visually and emotionally. I feel like it could be possible. I feel like we really are leaving everything dark and horrible far behind as we race forward along the highway, toward something brilliant.
For the first time in ages, I find myself craving that light. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my face, and actually be able to see the sunbeams streaming down from heaven. I want the sunlight to wash away everything hateful until I feel clean, radiant, and new.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I ask Liam nervously as he stitches up the wound on his leg.
“It’s a pretty simple job,” he says through gritted teeth. I can tell that he’s trying very hard not to make pain-noises to betray how much it hurts. I can still hear the catches in his breathing every time he jabs the needle through his skin.
“There must be something I can do,” I insist.
“Alright. Go and wash your hands thoroughly with soap,” he instructs. “The sink is in the middle of the kitchen, and the soap is on the left side of the counter. When you’re done, there’s a roll of paper towel above the sink, and you can grab a few sheets to blot away the blood so I can see what I’m doing.”
I place my hand on his coffee table to help me rise to my feet. My fingers encounter the edge of a book, and I can’t resist the urge to let them lightly scan over the cover. I am surprised to discover that it’s the same book I signed for him on our very first meeting. I am flattered that he keeps it in such a prominent place in his apartment. However, I don’t have the time to tease him or mention this now.
I rush to the sink to follow his instructions. The apartment is very small, and the kitchen is not completely separated from the living area—it was easy to get a sense of the layout quite quickly. I find the soap without difficulty and begin scrubbing my hands. “I’m glad that I can’t see you bleeding,” I admit as I dry my hands on the paper towel and pull out a few more sheets. “I think it would stress me out a lot.”
“I’m just glad you can’t see me sitting here without my pants,” he admits.
“Why?” I ask curiously as I reenter the room.
“I didn’t know I was going to get shot today, but I did know that my friends would be gambling. So—I wore my lucky boxers. They’re covered in hearts, four-leaf clovers, and horseshoes. It would be quite embarrassing if you could see this.”
The edge of my lips quirk slightly. “But you just told me what they look like.”
“Knowing and seeing are two different things,” he says solemnly. “Now come over here before I bleed all over my new couch.”
I move over to kneel on the ground near where he’s sitting and gently press the paper towel against his leg. “Is that okay?”
“Here,” he says, guiding my hands. “You can press it directly on the wound and be a bit more aggressive to really soak up the blood,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I say with a grimace, “but I still think you should go to the hospital.”
“And wait three hours in the emergency for something I can do in five minutes? No, thanks.” Liam prepares himself for doing another stitch in his leg. “Besides, this way you get to see a preview of my excellent skills as a surgeon. You need to trust me if I’m going to be poking holes in your eyes in a few weeks.”
I pull the paper towel away from his leg and shudder at the thought. I did not realize that my shoulder was lightly touchi
ng his knee until I feel his body twitch at the pain of the needle piercing his skin. I immediately curl my arm around his calf and gently hug the bottom half of his leg to both soothe him and steady him.
“Almost done,” he says after a sharp intake of breath. “Blot the blood away?”
I immediately comply and press the paper towel back against his wound. I can’t tell how bad it is, but I feel a small trickle of moisture slide down my wrist. “Liam,” I say softly, with concern.
“Just one more stitch,” he says with determination.
I remove my hand so that he can get to work, and I dab the dribble of blood off my wrist. This time, he does release a small groan when the metal impales his skin. It takes him a second to finish the stitch and tie a knot in the thread. Finally, he tosses the needle onto the coffee table and collapses back in the sofa, breathing deeply.
“Is that all?” I ask him softly as I press the paper towel against his cut.
He exhales slowly. “Just one more task. Can you hand me the gauze on the coffee table?” he asks me weakly.
I hate the sound of him in such agony. I place the paper towel down and retrieve the gauze, but instead of giving it to him, I begin to unroll the fabric. He seems exhausted, and he shouldn’t have to do everything himself. I place the end of the fabric over his stitched up wound, and hold it in place as I begin to wrap the roll slowly around his thigh. I try to focus on the task and not notice how hard and muscular his leg is under my hands. I am stunned by the large circumference and the amount of gauze it takes to encircle his limb. I bite down on my lip and concentrate as I make several laps before he reaches out to halt me.
“That’s perfect. Thank you, Winter,” he says, taking the gauze from my hand and finishing up the job. He leans forward to place the empty roll on the table and sighs. “You know, you’ve really been a champ tonight.”
“Me?” I say in surprise. “I would have fallen apart if it weren’t for you—and I probably would have been shot. Or worse.”
“Nonsense,” he says, cupping my face in his hand. He runs his thumb over my cheek gently. “You’ve been through shit like this before and you found a way to cope. You’re a survivor, and you would have been fine without me. Heck, this is the first time I’ve been in such a situation. I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before. I have trained in judo for years, but I’ve never had to actually fight someone. For a moment—I thought I was going to panic and screw up.”
“Really?” I ask him in wonder. “You handled it so smoothly—like you do this every day.”
“No. My mind was spinning. I don’t even remember fighting with Grayson. I just remember the pain in my leg and then a burst of anger. I remember intending to disarm him, and I think another gunshot went off—I saw him reaching for me, and in the next instant we were both on the ground. I remember lying there in a daze and trying to figure out what had happened. It was like my body moved so fast I couldn’t keep up. I was outside myself and looking in on the action.”
“Oh, Liam,” I say softly, turning to press my forehead against his knee. “I was so worried. I thought you were dead.”
“For a second, I wasn’t sure,” he admits. “I was lying there and staring at the stars, and they all seemed to be dancing and spiraling around each other rapidly. I was so full of adrenaline that everything was distorted and I had no idea where I was. But then I heard you calling my name, and it cleared up all the cobwebs. In that moment, I knew that your voice was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.”
I don’t know how to respond. I feel like something has irrevocably changed between us due to the night’s earlier events. Maybe it’s impossible to go through something like this without being drawn closer together. Liam seemed so strong throughout the whole situation, but now that we are alone and safe in his home, he is choosing to be honest with me about the fact that he was scared. Of course, even the strongest of heroes are human beings who feel lost and afraid at times. His ability to share this with me endears him to me even further. I feel like we must be truly on the same side, if he is able to trust me with such intimate details.
I place my hand on his thigh to comfort him, trying to avoid the location of the wound. My fingers accidentally graze the edge of his lucky boxers, and I am surprised to feel that they have a satiny texture. I find myself taking the fabric between my thumb and forefinger and rubbing it curiously. It’s strange to find such a soft and luxurious fabric on a male body—but I suppose I don’t often get to examine what men wear beneath their clothing. Maybe many of them wear silk boxers. I feel a little embarrassed for my curiosity, and I clear my throat.
“You really shouldn’t wear these boxers anymore,” I inform Liam.
“Why not?” he says in surprise.
“They seem to bring bad luck more than anything,” I point out with a frown. “You did get shot while wearing them.”
“You’re wrong,” he says, his voice growing husky as he leans forward in the sofa. He reaches out to brush my hair back over my shoulders. “I believe they are, in fact, very lucky.”
His voice gives me a little shiver. I am a bit startled when I feel his hands sliding down over my arms. I swallow to combat the sudden flush of warmth spreading across my neck and chest. “Why?” I manage to whisper.
“For one thing, the bullet completely missed everything vital. But more importantly, you did come home with me tonight, didn’t you?” He slides his hands gently around my waist. “I’d say I’m pretty damn lucky. You’re here; nothing else really matters. I think the boxers are doing just fine.”
“Liam,” I murmur in surprise. I feel a sudden weightlessness as he lifts me up onto his lap. “But your leg!” I exclaim with worry. I try to pull away and place my weight on the sofa. “Am I hurting...”
“Shhh,” he says as he holds me fast. “Having you close to me is the best possible therapy for speeding up my healing. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
I release a small laugh and give in to the urge to curl up against him. I press my ear and hand against his chest, and I can feel that his heartbeat is a lot slower than earlier. Mine is, too. We are both calm and comfortable together. It’s nice. It really feels like we’ve left all of the earlier drama far behind. I let my eyes close and I inhale deeply, savoring the mild scent of Liam’s cologne, still lingering on his shirt. I feel myself drifting away with the relaxing sensation of his arms around me.
All my fear easily subsides into bliss. I think I am also rather lucky.
I am trying to soak up the serenity of the moment when I feel his fingertips brush along my spine. It’s a tiny touch, trailing an erratic zigzag pattern beneath my blouse. I hold my breath as he weaves between my vertebrae, drawing invisible lines from the clasp of my bra to the waistband of my skirt. I am not sure why my stomach begins to tingle with heat and yearning. His other hand skims over my leg, caressing up and down the length of my thigh. As he draws closer to the hem of my skirt, his hand pauses. His fingers slide a few inches up under my skirt before retreating, hovering somewhere between boldness and respect. Something about the way he places his hands on me is tantalizing. I can feel that there are infinite unspoken sentences and secrets in his touch, and I try very hard to read their meaning. Something vital seems to be escaping me—it hides just out of reach within the silent spaces.
All I know is that he sets me on fire.
My very bones seem to quiver and melt beneath his hands. I try to remain very still, afraid to move and ruin the precious feeling. Is this a magical enchantment he’s casting on me, or some kind of medical manipulation? The electricity flows through my spine to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I never want it to end.
It feels like he is trying to unravel my soul.
I wish someone would tell him that he doesn’t have to try so hard. He doesn’t need any of this voodoo or science to conquer me. All he has to do is whisper my name, and I am his. He is the only good thing in my life, and I would give him anything he asked. I trust him completely, especi
ally after tonight. Without Liam, I would surely be all alone in the world. Before the kindness and strength of his embrace, I was barely alive. Not like this. I lived every day in quiet solitude, thinking deeply about everything, but feeling absolutely nothing. Now, every part of my body is humming with excitement and energy. I am awake and aware.
Thanks to him, I am alive. In every way, alive.
I didn’t know I could ever feel this way again. I wouldn’t have dared to try.
A prickle of coarse stubble grazes against my nose, informing me of the extreme closeness of Liam’s face. I am feeling terribly sensitive, like every feather-light touch is simply too much to bear. I can feel my heartbeat increasing again, and the atmosphere grows thick and heavy around us, blanketing our bodies with a certain gorgeous tension. Does he feel this way, too? My eyelids flutter open, and in a way, they do help me see. I can feel the warmth of his breath tickling my eyelashes and can sense the location of his lips. I gingerly lift my chin and let my mouth barely brush against the corner of his lips. I shiver at the tremendous sensation.
There are small jolts of lightning passing between us.
I feel like a storm cloud that hasn’t rained in a century. That’s how long I’ve been bottling up all my emotions, and keeping them from spilling over. Now, I fear that if that if he keeps touching me like this, I might burst. I might shatter in a mighty blizzard of passion, and take him down with me. I have so much love to give; it has been brimming inside me and begging to be set free. I have been lost and isolated for so long, with no one with whom I could share all of this feeling. I have kept myself busy to try to distract myself from how much I needed this.
People are meant to love other people. It was unnatural to starve myself from affection, even though I convinced myself that it was safer and the only way. I was just scared. I wasn’t strong enough to try; I couldn’t deal with the pain of losing another person I loved so dearly. I couldn’t trust anyone enough to love them with complete and utter abandon. But something has changed now. I feel like I deserve to be happy. I’m ready to stop my self-punishment and exile. I’m ready to be happy.