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The adrenaline rush is beginning to feel like I’ve had more caffeine than anyone should consume in one day, but I need to be able to think straight before making any sudden moves.
Liam is waiting outside of my apartment door, his hands gripped around his phone and his eyes glued to the screen while he paces in a small circle. I can’t seem to catch my breath after running up the stairs, which attracts his attention.
“Where have you been?” he asks, his words stumbling out with haste.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to clear my head. Driving usually helps, but it didn’t work,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my key.
“I thought you were home when you texted me?”
I shake my head and open the door to let us inside, then close it just as quickly and secure the locks and chain.
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy, why would you be out alone at night right now? We wanted someone to be with you all day to make sure nothing happened.” We. He and Willa are the “we” against me. If I sit around and wait for everything to unravel, I will be as useless as an untied ribbon.
“I know but…I’ve had this bad feeling, like I’ve been wrong about some of the details regarding the Smiths. I keep spinning over the question of why they would have blamed me for their missing daughter. I wanted to believe it was a response to their panic when they couldn’t find her, but at the same time I know I can’t overlook the fact that no one mentioned a word about Fallon before I was left alone with their twin girls. What if the police are looking in the wrong places? What if the Smiths know more about their daughter than they’re letting on?”If I know something, I should say something. It’s the right thing to do.
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Liam says with what clearly sounds like a morally supportive assumption. “Is that what you were doing? Looking for evidence? What could you find that the police haven’t at this point?”
“I know. I just feel so helpless right now,” I explain, dropping my keys and purse onto the entryway side table.
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to find much just driving around town, but I understand it’s hard to just sit here and wait for information too,” Liam says, quirking his lip to the side.
With savage emotions running through every cell in my body, I step in closer to Liam and wrap my arms around his waist, desperate for an embrace—for someone to hold me tightly and tell me everything will be okay. It seems like we’re still strangers in so many ways, and we are, but I’m drawn to him—the comfort he keeps offering without the pursuance of reciprocation.
He wraps his arms around me, and the warmth thaws the chill within my frozen muscles. Neither of us speak because I’ve probably gone from making things awkward to uncomfortable in a matter of seconds. I try to pull away, realizing I might have made a wrong assumption about the possible one-sided connection between us.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be tough all the time.” He gently presses my head against his chest, allowing me to hear how fast his heart is beating. A quickening pulse is caused by excitement or unease. “Tell me what’s going on so I can help.”
“I shouldn’t have dragged you into all of this,” I tell him, again, feeling the need to constantly apologize for disrupting his run-of-the-mill life.
“You didn’t. When we met, none of this was a reality to you. Some might say we met each other at just the right time—a moment where you might need someone to tell you everything will be okay. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if I was that person, would it?”
Kyle—the man I spent one year with, thinking nothing could ever be better—always said “everything will be okay.” A false statement only filled with a fake sense of security. Yet, I still desperately seek the words from whoever will share them with me. It’s the dumbest line anyone can speak because no one knows what will happen five seconds from now. Yet, it’s a pacifying mechanism; a mother’s hush when her child is suffering with a broken heart, or a Band-Aid when someone is losing too much blood. Words that mean nothing and everything.
“How do you know?” I ask the question with no truthful answer then look up at him, still giving him the benefit of the doubt that he might try to come up with a logical response.
“My gut says so,” he whispers while leaning down to touch the tip of his nose to mine. His breath feathers against my lips, sending a flicker of sparks through my cheeks. I close my eyes and press my hands against his chest, feeling his heart pound. Mine thunders in response. Liam’s lips brush against mine and I surrender without another thought. His hands tighten around my lower back, and I reach up around his neck, slipping my fingers through his short, wavy strands of hair. I melt into theheat of his body as if it could offer me salvation, leaving me completely consumed.
Breathing becomes difficult the longer we are woven together in this timeless moment, but I ignore the need for air. I could forget everything else if we could stay like this.
Liam struggles to pull away and I lean in closer, greedy for more. We close the gap between us several more times before either takes a breath. I press my hand against my cheek, feeling a shy smile grow across my tingling lips.
“That probably wasn’t—wasn’t what you were looking for when you said you didn’t want to be alone?” he asks along with a hoarse chuckle.
He gently coils a strand of my hair around his finger then loops it behind my ear. His gaze holds mine hostage, captivating all my thoughts, and for a moment I forget I messaged him to come over or why I had even messaged him in the first place. “I’m not sure what I was looking for, but that felt like it was more than I could have hoped to find.”
Liam strokes his thumb down the side of my face then loops his arm around my back. “Why were you out?” he asks, walking me over to the couch.
The momentary break between trouble and more trouble is slipping away.
I take a seat in my usual corner of the couch, and he sits beside me, leaving just a little space between us. “In psychology, we often focus on patient observation which can offer more insight than any spoken word. However, depending on the case and the patient, if the person knows they are being observed, they could put on a performance, which would give inaccurate results when notating behavior. The only way around this is—I drove to the cliff where the Smiths live.”
Liam leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his forehead scrunching with thinking lines. “You were spying on them?” he asks.
“Yes and no. More yes than no. I’m desperate for answers. The night I watched the twins, the back wall, which is floor to ceiling windows, had no curtains or blinds and it was the room the family spends time in so I figured I could catch a glimpse of what no one else was seeing.”
The more I say, the worse this sounds. I was spying on the Smith family and there’s no way to sweeten the truth. “You could have been caught trespassing,” Liam says. “That would toss you right back to where you were on Friday night.” He’s not wrong, and I appreciate the calm nature in which he’s speaking because Willa won’t respond the same way.
“I have evidence,” I say, choking out the raspy words. I cup my hand around my throat, feeling a sudden ache from the bruising I have been trying to ignore all day.
