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I shake my head, realizing in this moment that I don’t want either of those endings. Tears spill down my cheeks as I hug him back.
“Thank God,” he whispers.
“What happened to you, Liam?”
He squeezes me tighter and hushes me, stroking his hand down my head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, sunshine.Please. Not now.”
I push him away. His brows pull together as I stand on shaky legs, my clothes now burdensome with the rain and mud. “Then when? I can’t stand to see you this way, Liam,” I say, a little more hostile than I intended. His eyes widen and I can’t help but look at the blood dripping down his neck again, turning our wilted white moonflowers crimson. I start walking back toward the manor.
He’s at my back in a few moments, gripping my wrist tightly. My scar stings and I whirl on him. “Stop, Liam. If you’re not going to tell me, then I don’t want to talk at all.”
“So don’t talk.” He pushes me against a tree and presses his forehead against mine. His breath curls in the cold air. My bones ache from the chill but heat sparks in my chest.
“What’s wrong with you?” I struggle against him and manage to shake his hold. I run toward the manor, Liam’s footsteps close behind me. The rain stings my eyes and makes it hard to see.
I make it to the east-wing door and throw it open, running down the hallway and making it to the dark lobby just as Liam reaches me again.
The only light is that of the fireplace. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Liam breathes heavily as he stares at me. Longing and torment mix in his eyes as he backs me onto one of the sofas. I sit back and watch him carefully.
“Tell me,” he mutters, dropping to his knees before me. “You tell me first. Then I’ll tell you.”
Is he testing me? I can’t stand him when he’s like this.
“Tell you what?” I ask carefully.
He grabs my arm and runs his finger down the long cut that was supposed to be the end of my story. There’s something so painful about the way his eyes have dulled since this morning. Blood continues to trickle down his neck and it makes my stomach curl.
Can I do this?
“I—I don’t want to be this character anymore.” I press my hand to my chest. “I can’t keep waking up and being disappointed with who I see in the mirror. I don’t want to be me.”
“That’s all it takes?” he murmurs cruelly.
My lower lip quivers and I bite my cheek to keep the tears away. Anger storms behind my eyes and a list of furious responses spills out of me. “I don’t have any friends in the real world. Everyone hates me.Ihate me. My only family left is my brother. The person I called Mother hurt me her entire fucking life and then she died. I have a bad heart. All I do is hurt people. I hurt everyone.Is that enough for you?” I say the last bit louder than I should have, but God, does it feel fucking good to say it. To shout it.
“That’s a long list,” he says, not unkindly. His eyes soften.
“Your turn.” I take a steadying breath. That was actually a lot easier to say than I thought. The weight that’s been looming over me for so long has stopped festering.
“I cut my face because I felt guilty for earlier… and because I ditched Yelina on the highway. To be fair, I told her to shut up and she wouldn’t,” he says nonchalantly, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. I don’t smile. He needs to stop trying to be funny when it’s clearly anything but.
I don’t believe that’s the entire story… but at least he’s trying.
His brows pinch and he rests his face on my leg. “Can we stop spiraling? I want to numb your pain, Wynn. I want to be star-crossed lovers again.”
I smile wearily. “Star-crossed lovers? You read too many romance novels.”
He peeks up at me and gives me a boyish grin. “Only the ones I read on your Kindle while you sleep.”
“Traitor.”
The walk back to our room is quiet. We pass Lanston’s room and then Yelina’s. Both lights are on, so I suppose we know they’re both okay and safe. I feel bad for running on Lanston like that. He must be worried I’ll tell Liam everything… or tell someone else. I make a mental note to apologize to him in the morning.
Liam heads into the bathroom. I stop in the doorway and watch as he pulls his soaked hoodie off. The white shirt beneath is drenched in blood. His scars are long, some too awful to linger on. His tattoos cover his entire chest: skulls, forests, upside-down cities, and an astronaut floating in the space between. The dark ink tells stories I crave to hear from him.
“Come here,” he mutters as he pulls down his pants, taking the underwear with them. He didn’t ask; it’s a command. My blood warms with lust at his deep, dangerous tone. “Let me numb you.”
