CHAPTER THIRTEEN

She paused, sure she misinterpreted what he was asking. He beckoned toward her, a casual gesture that was nevertheless fraught with meaning – almost as if he didn't want to make too much of a commitment. It was different from the moment before, when she'd been immobilized, too much in shock to either fight back or embrace him.

 

Now, she edged closer, inch-by-inch, into his arms, as vulnerable as a china doll that might break. Those shoulders were so strong--and they were stronger even now than when she first felt her body pressed against his, and he told her he'd protect her from her stepfather, from the girls at school, from anyone who threatened her. And she'd believed him, because nobody had ever told her that before--not since her father, and she’d been too young to remember that.

 

He spoke into her ear. "How could you think I wouldn't forgive you? That would be just plain spiteful, and I'm not a monster. I just--"

 

"Play one on TV?" she whispered, and that was enough to break the tension a little, though he was still braced--she could feel his heart beating against his ribcage from where her fingers rested against his chest, partially hidden underneath the leather jacket.

 

Tense, like, even now, he was waiting to be sneaked up on, to be stabbed, to be jumped from behind. That alone was sorrowful and, once again, her fault. He didn't deserve to still have to watch his back every second.

 

"But you were angry. I know you were and it's okay," she whispered and, before she knew it, she reached up to touch a lock of copper hair that had fallen forward. He didn’t shy away. “It's okay to be angry. It's okay to hate me. You can hate me if you want. I don't mind." She felt herself speaking the words as if she had rehearsed them, which, in a way, she had, though not with the hopes that she would ever get the opportunity to say them other than whispering to herself when she slept at night, trying to assuage herself, to soothe her shame for the millionth time.

 

In fact, they were what she wished she could have whispered to him in the courtroom before they led him away. But she hadn't been there. And though he might forgive her--she hoped he might someday forgive her--she would never forgive herself.

 

"I don't hate you, Liana," he said.

 

She tipped her head up, too afraid to let the words in yet. Because this was what she had ultimately feared for all those years, more than anything – that there was someone in the world who genuinely, truly hated her. And not only that, but that the one person who hated her was the person she cared for most in the world. And now he was telling her that wasn't true, and it was as if the sun had burst from behind the wall of clouds that had been keeping it from view.

 

“I was angry. More than you could possibly know. Angry enough to punch things, to hurt people."

 

"Are you still?"

 

He hesitated. But they both knew it couldn’t hurt to tell the truth now. "Yes. But I don't hate you. I never did, and I never could. How could you ever even think that?"

 

"Because--because--"

 

"If anything, I hate myself."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"All I ever wanted was to protect you from Noel. And I couldn't."

 

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Wait, let me get this straight. You're feeling guilty because you weren't there to protect me?"

 

"I promised you. I don't have much, Liana," he said. "But I have my word."

 

"But I'm the one who lied."

 

"I should never have gotten involved with you back then. I should have known it would only lead to you getting hurt. The idea that he hurt you--after I promised I wouldn't let him. I knew what he was capable of--I saw it, and I fucked up so bad. That's nobody's fault but mine."

 

"But don’t you see, Nick? Yes, it was hard, it was awful, but I never would have made it out of that house if it weren't for you. You taught me to rebel. You taught me that I had worth as person, not just the perfect princess Noel wanted to make me into. You taught me I deserved better."

 

"You didn't need me to teach you that. You do deserve better," he said with a sigh, leaning his head back on the couch, his hands falling away from her. "Better than this." He reminded himself of earlier, the way he'd tried to take Liana by force while she stood like a doll, with no will of her own. There was that side of him that wanted to dominate her, even to punish her; he feared that it hadn't been killed, was only sleeping.

 

And that he could be responsible for hurting her when all he'd ever wanted was to take away her pain--he couldn't live with himself. And if that meant keeping hands off--and his cock away from--Liana for as long as it took, he was prepared to make that sacrifice.

 

The doorbell rang. Liana glanced at the clock on the oven, the back of her neck suddenly feeling damp, its tiny hairs on high alert. She scolded herself. She was being paranoid.

 

"Liana?" called Kirrily from outside the door.

 

In a split-second, the two had separated from opposite sides of the couch. Nick had removed himself from Liana completely, as if he realized the dangerous position they'd been in. Force of habit, she supposed. She didn't know what it was like to be with Nick in peace, in freedom, without fear of punishment--and he didn't know how to be with her that way, either. But he glanced back at her now, as confused as she was. His eyes had changed, no longer open, a look of resolve, of taking charge.

 

That was another side of him Liana had known and loved, but it was also, she knew, a safer one for Nick. He'd let it fall, briefly. She wondered if he'd ever be so careless as to do it again.

 

"Expecting someone?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly as she slid off the couch, adrenaline still swirling around in her blood, tearing her gaze away from the gorgeous young man she had just realized was sitting next to her, who had recently been close enough to leave his warmth, his scent of the outdoors, on her skin.

 

She suspected Kirrily would be able to tell what had just happened. Liana knew Nick was watching her as she accepted the plain brown package, whose return address she didn't recognize. It wasn't from New York, which made her breathe at least a temporary sigh of relief.

 

"Aren't you going to open it?"

 

"I--" she didn't want Kirrily or Nick to think it was a sex toy or something equally embarrassing. But over the past few months, unexpected packages had never contained anything she wanted to see. "It's...it's nothing – just something from a friend in New York," she said. Immediately, she regretted the explanation she'd given.

 

"Open it," said Nick. He sounded serious.

 

"I--I don't know if I can."

 

But he wasn’t backing down. For whatever reason, he’d decided this was something he needed to see. Maybe because Tryg had told him to keep an eye on her, maybe out of his own curiosity. But Liana suspected it would be something he’d wish he hadn’t.

 

Gingerly, she pried the tape off the ends and tore apart the rest of the envelope. A clump of withered rose petals fluttered out, along with a note on a sheet of stationery, one that looked like the type they gave out for free in hotel rooms. "I'm getting tired of waiting. -Jack." She dropped the package as if it were electrified.

 

"It's...it's fine," said Liana, though she was having trouble keeping her voice steady.

 

"It's him, isn't it?" Nick said. There it was – that silence, that helplessness. "The guy from New York. The one you were talking about." That was another side of Nick that surfaced in his eyes. That fire, rage, so intense it scared her. She'd seen it when he used to look at Noel sometimes, and she saw it now. It made him dangerous.

 

"His name is Jack Camus," she said. "He’s a cop."

 

Nick was already on the move. "Go up and get your stuff. We're getting out of here."

 

But Liana didn't move. "I don’t understand," she protested. "I was so careful, Nick. I didn't even tell my roommate where I was going. I bought my ticket in cash. Hell, I was even careful not to walk in front of the security cameras. I didn't leave a trace. How could he have known?"

 

"It doesn’t matter. You can't stay here tonight," said Nick.

 

"It's fine,” she insisted. “You don't need to protect me. We'll lock the doors. We'll--"

 

"He's right, Liana," said Kirrily, entering from behind. She must have put Kizzy to bed, and Liana cursed herself for bringing an innocent child within the sphere of this madness. Liana had had to grow up with Noel; Kizzy didn’t need to know what it was like to feel unsafe in her own home. "Much as I hoped we'd be able to protect you here, our cover's blown. You've got to get out of here, at least until Tryg gets back to town and we can rally the Sparks to protect you in case something goes wrong." She looked at Nick. “Do you know any place she can stay that nobody would think to look?” Nick opened his mouth, but Kirrily interrupted his train of thought. “Nothing associated with the Black Sparks. Chances are he's already made the connection.”

 

Liana swallowed. "Alone?"

 

Nick felt his hand slide down into his pocket. Of all the numbers in his phone, he could think of only one that might allow Liana some protection. He pressed a button and placed the phone against his ear. "Helena?"