“Because she has you,” I tell him. “Please be careful. Please be so fucking careful. Please. I’m begging you. You’ve always shown me perfection, so don’t show me anything less.”
“Of course not,” he says as he smiles at me. It’s such an adoring smile. Like even in the room with this man, his whole world revolves around me. I was afraid of the Liam I’d see when I walked in here. I was afraid that I would always have to fear for his life, but he’s careful. He’s giving me everything I need.
He’s watching me… waiting… wanting to see what move I make.
I kiss his forehead and then head out of the silo. I hear the man screaming for me, trying to feed me shit, as if he thinks I could forget everything I saw on that phone. I get into my car, but I don’t start it yet. Instead, I wait as I listen to the sound of the rain striking the windshield.
I open my phone and hunt Leanne’s name before I find her social media page. I look at the smile on her face as she hugs a ferret who has a hold of a chunk of her hair. She’s just a teenager wanting to live her life. A teenager in her senior year of high school with a whole life ahead of her.
I smile as I drop the phone and start the car, heading back toward home feeling like a weight has been lifted off my chest.
And shouldn’t that be horrible? Isn’t that awful of me?
Yet, I don’t feel awful at all. I feel… relieved. I feel like I can breathe. When I get to Liam’s, I let myself in through the front door and head over to the couch where Lucille Pawl and Butter are sitting. She acts like she hates his very existence, but it’s rare to see her out of his sight.
Seeing me, Lucille rushes over, meowing her complaints. There’s quite the tale there, mostly about how irritated she is that I left her, and her story reaches its climax where she screams a bit about Butter eating her food.
Butter doesn’t mind. He just twitches his tail back and forth, looking like the definition of comfortable.
“Wow, all of that happened while I was gone?” I tease the cat.
She meows in reply. I think it has something to do with the fact that she likes the heated mat Liam got her that Butter is currently on top of. Thereisa second one, but of course she only wants the one he’s sitting on.
I carry her through the house as I look around it and wonder what my life would be like always having Liam in it. Or the fact that I’m okay with what he does, and I know that it won’t come between us.
I go into his bedroom and turn around, wondering if I feel ready to ask him more. Do I want to know what else he hides in this room?
I take a shower and get ready for bed, feeling exhausted. I flop down on the bed and Lucille starts kneading my chest like she needs a bit of blood to sate her since Liam’s not here for her to yowl at. All too soon, Butter joins us, and even as he snubs my pets, he lies down right up against my face. He doesn’t even flinch as Lucille smacks him a few times.
The door swinging open wakes me.
Liam watches me closely, like he’s scared any quick movements will make me run.
“Was everything perfect?” I ask as I look over at him.
“Always is,” he says, waiting for my reaction.
I sit up and he slowly comes over to me as Lucille and I scrutinize him. He looks absolutely perfect. Not a single blemish. Nothing marring him or his clothes. I reach for him, and he likely expects I’m going to grab him, but instead, I slip my handinto his pocket. Finding nothing, I search his left pocket before sliding my hand into his back pockets.
“Is this a new way of groping me? A bit unusual, but I’m game.”
“I want to see it,” I say as I hold my hand out.
“I’m willing to show you whatever you want.”
“Then let me see it.”
Liam hesitates before pulling out his phone. He eyes me for a second, like he’s questioning if maybe he’s gotten it wrong, but he pops his phone free of its case and slides out a small slip of white cardstock.
I flip it over and look at the ink from a fingerprint pressed into the stark white paper.
He’s probably analyzing every expression I make, but I’m giving him very little to work with.
“Do they all have one of these?”
“Most.”
“The guy who killed your mother?”
