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I bite my lower lip, sucking it between my teeth. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “But I’m not sure I can ever be free of any of them.”
Liam looks at me quizzically. “Any of them? You mean Alexei?”
I press my lips together, feeling tension start to hum through me. I don’t want to talk about this—I don’t want to talk about any of them. “Alexandre, Alexei, Franco.” My voice has an edge to it now, sharp and cutting. “They’re all going to follow me forever. All the men who have hurt me. You can’t make it go away.”
I look back at Liam, and I see that he’s gone very still; his face paled slightly. “Franco?” His voice has an edge now too. “Franco Bianchi?”
I nod, confused. I’m sure Liam knew Franco in some capacity—the man had been Luca’s underboss after all—but that doesn’t explain his reaction. He looks genuinely upset at the mention of Franco’s name, and I frown. “What? Were you friends or something?”
Liam looks away, his hands tightening on his knees. “Something like that,” he says tersely.
“Look, we don’t have to talk about it. I don’twantto talk about it.” Something has changed in the air between us, a strange tension rising up, and it makes me feel scared and unsettled, considering I’m headed to Liam’s home. I can feel my hands starting to shake, and I squeeze them between my thighs, trying to calm myself down.
“That’s probably for the best.” Liam’s voice is colder now, and I look at him wide-eyed, unable to come up with a reason for the sudden change in his mood. It had something to do with mentioning Franco’s name, but why? Were the two men that close? That doesn’t really make sense—the Irish and the Italians didn’t have much of a friendship back then. Certainly not what exists now between Luca and Liam.
I can feel myself starting to breathe faster, my breaths catching in my throat as I try to calm myself down, my nails biting into my palms, but it’s not working. My vision narrows, my throat tightens, and I feel like I’m choking, like I can’t breathe, like the world is starting to shift around me.
“Ana?” A voice comes from my right side, but I can’t quite place it. I can feel the tremors starting to run through my entire body, and someone is shaking me until my teeth rattle—or maybe it’s justmethat’s shaking, or the plane, or—
“Ana!” Someone is squeezing my hands, and someone else’s hands are on my knees, trying to bring me back to reality, trying to ground me. “Ana, think of something you can feel right now. Think of something you can smell, something you can taste. Come back to us.”
Feel.Hands on my knees, on my hands, fingers on denim and skin.Smell, the leather of the seats of the jet, the faint vodka and tomato scent of the Bloody Mary Levin was drinking earlier.Taste, blood on my tongue where I’d bitten it as I’d started shaking, salt from the tears dripping down my cheeks. Slowly, just as the person speaking to me had said, it starts to bring me out of the spiral of panic, my vision clearing as I blink and refocus on what’s in front of me.
It’s Liam, kneeling on the floor, his hands gripping my knees as he looks up at me, his fingers rubbing the sides of them. My heart skips a beat in my chest as I look down at him, at the worried look on his face, and for a moment, I can’t think of or look at anything else.
Only him.
Alexandre had hated my panic attacks, my “fits.” He’d treated them like a burden, an annoyance, a defect on my part. He’d helped me afterward, that’s true, bringing me a washcloth to clean my face and comforting me a little, but it had been clear that he’d despised that I had them at all.
There’s no censure on Liam’s face, no irritation. He just looks worried, half-panicked himself, as if he’s never seen anyone have a panic attack.
The hands holding mine pull back, and I turn my head sharply to see Max sitting there next to me, his face equally concerned. “Are you alright now?” he asks, his brow creasing, and I swallow hard, nodding.
“I think so,” I say in a small voice, and he glances at Liam once before getting up from his seat.
“Liam, can I talk to you?” he asks, and Liam hesitates, but nods.
“Aye,” Liam says, standing up as well and following Max a little way down the aisle. I clench my hands into fists in my lap, hearing the faint echoes of their conversation as I try to keep myself from slipping back into the panic.
Is it common for her to have panic attacks?Max’s voice, full of worry.
How would I know? I’ve only just gotten her away from Alexandre. But after what she’s been through—
This is why I said you should send her back to New York, why I thought this was a bad idea—
Liam glances over his shoulder to see me watching them. Their voices lower further so that I can’t hear anything else they’re saying. I can feel my heartbeat starting to slow, the blood rushing back to my hands where my nails had bitten into my palms.
I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes.I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want to be afraid.
I don’t know for sure that I can trust Liam. His odd reaction to my mention of Franco makes me even more unsure. But I know if I go back to New York, there are so many bad memories there waiting to haunt me. Franco’s torture, my lost career, the long days of lying in my new apartment, wishing I had the nerve to just end it all.
I’ve never been to Boston. If there’s a place where I can find a fresh start, that just might be it.
Liam is offering me one, offering me protection and a place to find my footing again—in more ways than one.
I don’t know if I can trust him. I don’t know if I can leave Alexandre and the confusing, lingering feelings that I have for him behind.
But I need to try.
