CHAPTER FOUR
Liam’s little attempts to make me feel better during dinner had their intended effect. I can almost forget about the horror-show my life’s become. Until I see Liam’s jaw clench every time he looks at me.
I’m disgusted with myself for being so needy. For almost crying in relief when he said he was staying over.
Liam scans my outfit when he joins me in the living room. “You changed.”
Self-conscious in one of Vince’s over-sized shirts, I tuck my knees up underneath it and curl into the corner of the couch, placing my head on the overstuffed arm. “I’m tired.”
“You want to go to bed?”
“Not yet.”
I should. I haven’t slept more than a few hours in days. Up late packing before Chad came home from a bachelor party weekend away with his buddies. Worrying about his reaction when I told him we were done had kept me up the rest of the night. After regaining consciousness, my two nights in the hospital hadn’t been restful. Every time I dropped off, someone came in the room to question me or poke me with a needle.
For the first time in days, I just relax and drift. The television creates nice background noise that drowns out the constant ringing in my head. I’m aware of the couch dipping. Of my feet resting up against Liam’s warm leg. The hesitant way he places his hand over my foot and gently rubs his thumb over the tops of my toes.
“Mmm…that tickles.”
“Sorry.” He stops the restless movement and slides his hand to my ankle.
Feeling safe and secure, I finally allow the warm, black cover of sleep to envelope me.
Curled up like a kitten, Bree finally drifts off to sleep. Her phone buzzes and I reach over to grab it off the end table before it wakes her.
Big Bro.
“Hey,” I answer in a hushed voice. A glance at Bree shows she hasn’t moved. Her breathing’s still deep and even. Gently moving her feet from my lap to the couch, I stand and move to the kitchen.
“Why’re you answering her phone?”
“She’s sleeping.” I almost add jackass, because I don’t appreciate his tone. He asked me to watch his sister, I’m doing it, and now he’s slinging attitude at me.
“You’re staying there?”
“Yes, you asked me to. Remember?” I answer with a healthy dose of slow sarcasm.
“Tell me that motherfucker’s still in jail.”
“They’re supposed to give me a head’s up if he’s released. His brother’s been harassing her though. Sending texts and shit.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’ve got it handled.”
“Thank you.” He hesitates before asking, “How is she?”
“Somber,” I blurt out the first word that pops in my head. “Still got that feisty streak, though. She’ll be fine.”
“Just…keep her away from him. She wants to visit him or drop the charges or something stupid, tell her no.”
“Christ, Vince, she’s not a fuckin’ kid. She’s smarter than that. Besides, I can’t exactly order her around like she’s a five-year-old.”
“Sure you can. Someone obviously needs to.”
That attitude’s more likely to push Bree away than make her bend to her brother’s wishes. Instead of pointing that out, I grunt something that sounds similar to agreement.
“It’ll be good for her to be around a real man,” he says.
I guess that’s supposed to be a compliment.
“Have her call me tomorrow.”
“Will do,” I promise before hanging up.
“Thank you,” Bree says from behind me.
I turn and find her watching me, eyes still drowsy with sleep. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” She lets out a brief yawn and lowers her gaze. “Thank you for defending me. What’s he worried about? That I’ll drop the charges and go running back to Chad?”
I’m not sure how to answer, since, yeah, that’s exactly what her brother thinks.
She takes my silence for a yes. “Of course he does. That’s what my mom did with my dad all the time.”
Their father was out of the picture by the time I met them, but I remember their mother’s penchant for picking up seedy boyfriends and bringing them home. It’s one of the reasons Vince and Bree ended up staying over at my house so frequently when they were kids.
“Do you think that too?”
“No,” I answer quickly. Although the thought had crossed my mind. Because of what I’ve seen on the job, not because of Bree.
“Thank you.”
“Come on, why don’t you go to bed. Get some sleep.”
She glances at the bedroom and shakes her head. “I’m not sleepy anymore.”
That turns out to be a lie. A few minutes after we’re back on the couch, she conks out. “Bree?” She looks so uncomfortable all scrunched up in the corner. “Bree, come on, let’s put you to bed.”
As I slip my arms under her body and lift her off the couch, she lets out a whimper. Once I have her in my arms, she settles down and I carry her into the bedroom. Only the weak light from the kitchen provides any illumination. I’m careful navigating over the rugs and kick Bree’s bags out of the way, worried I’ll trip and drop her.
Once she’s tucked in, I stop and watch her for a few minutes. The peaceful expression transforms to anxiety. Short, scared cries fall from her lips. Each one breaks me a little more. “Liam?” she whispers.
“I’m here.”
“Don’t leave me. Please.”
Shit. I run my hand through my hair. This is a bad idea. So wrong.
But I crawl into bed with her anyway. Wrap my arms around her soft, warm body and pull her against me. Bury my nose in her long hair and breathe deep. Thankful she’s here in my arms and she’s okay.