The door is cracked, so his voice is muffled, but still discernable.
“I don’t care about the consequences. I want out.”
He sounds agitated.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. No one’s paid a higher price than me.”
Curious, I tip-toe closer to his office door.
His voice rises. “Aye, I know we’re close. You think I’m not aware of what’s at stake?” There’s a pause, then he growls, “Eighteen years is enough. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long!”
I think of the inscription on the front page of the book I found in his library, dated eighteen years ago. The inscription from Julia, to her love.
Eighteen years of what is enough?
My heart thumping, I creep closer and closer. Liam is silent, listening to whomever is talking on the other end of the phone.
Then suddenly he roars, “Because it won’t bring them back!”
I remember describing him as standing on top of a mountain of bones and get chills.
“Hold on a minute.”
Footsteps pound over the floor. Before I can whirl around and run away, Liam yanks open the door and stands there staring at me. He’s barefoot, wearing only his briefs.
I swallow, my pulse flying. “Sorry. Um. I was just coming to find you. I’ll go back to bed.”
Mortified at being caught, I turn to run away, but he catches my arm and pulls me inside. He says something curtly in Gaelic into the phone then hangs up.
Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a bear hug.
We stand there like that for several long moments until Liam gets his breathing under control. Every so often, a fine tremor runs through his chest.
With my cheek resting over his hammering heartbeat, I whisper, “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” His voice is gravelly. He exhales, then nuzzles my neck. “Why are you awake?”
“You were gone.”
He stills, then pulls away. His eyes search my face.
I keep my tone light. “You’re not the only light sleeper around here.”
“Come on.”
He releases me from the hug, takes my hand, and leads me back down the hall and into the bedroom. He sets his phone on the nightstand next to the bed, then turns back to me, gently pushing me down onto the mattress.
Within moments, we’re spooning again. Only this time, both of us are wide awake.
After the automatic lights fade and it’s dark again, I say, “You didn’t carry me.”
“You said you didn’t like it.”
I think about that. “No, I said I was capable of walking.”
“So you do like it.”
“Don’t be smug. It’s unflattering.”
He exhales slowly. I feel some of the tension leave his body, but my curiosity is such that I risk him getting worked up again. “Who were you talking to?”
There’s a long, tense pause. “My brother.” Another pause. “There’s a…business situation…that’s causing some problems.”
He told me the less I know the better, but I can’t resist pushing a little bit more. “Is your whole family in business together?”
“No. We’re the only two left.”
Left? I whisper, “Left as in working together?”
“Left as in alive.”
My heart clenches to a fist. “Your parents, too?”
His sigh is heavy. “Aye.”
He told me he was one of eight children. Including his parents, that’s ten in his family. But now there are only two? How is that possible?
“Liam, I’m so sorry.” I hesitate. “Was there an accident?”
His voice comes very low. “A fire.”
I think of the scars on his back, and how he agreed when I told him digging in graveyards was dangerous, and want to throw up. “Oh god.”
“Go to sleep.”
He doesn’t want to talk about it. I get it, but if he thinks I could sleep now, he’s crazy.
I lie awake long after he falls asleep, lost in thought as I listen to him breathe in the dark.
In the morning, he’s preoccupied. I don’t ask if he slept well, because I know he didn’t. He tossed and turned while I stared at the ceiling and wondered.
And speculated.
And brooded about Julia and the eighteen years.
“It won’t bring them back,” he shouted into the phone. I can’t stop thinking about it, or of the fire that wiped out almost his entire family. The man has so many mysteries, I can’t keep them all straight.
We have sex in the shower before he leaves, then again as soon as he walks in the door that night. He doesn’t even remove his clothing that time, he simply walks into the library, kisses me passionately, then pushes me face down onto the table on top of my open books. He lifts my skirt and yanks down my panties, then fucks me from behind, one hand on my hip and the other gripped around the back of my neck, holding me down.
It’s animalistic.
I love it.
After, he feeds me steak and mashed potatoes by hand. One forkful at a time as I sit on the edge of the island in the kitchen and he stands between my legs, watching with avid eyes as my lips close around the tines of the fork with every bite.
Stripped from the waist up, he’s sexy as hell, all those bulging muscles and tattoos burning my eyes.
I’m wearing one of his white dress shirts and nothing else. Every so often, he fondles my breasts or hips, leaning in to kiss my neck and breathe me in. I’m pretty sure we’re about to have sex on the kitchen island, too, but we’re interrupted by the sound of my cell phone ringing. It’s plugged into a recharger on the counter across from us.
Liam crosses to it and looks at the screen. Without a word, he unplugs the phone and hands it to me.
The screen reads, “#1 Dolly Fan.”
Dear god. It’s my mother.
When I glance up at Liam, he’s smirking.
He pulls out one of the stools tucked into the overhang of the island, settles his bulk onto it, props his elbows on the countertop, and rests his chin on his folded hands, making it clear he’s eager to listen in on the conversation.
I debate with myself for a millisecond, not at all certain this is a good idea, but quickly realize my mother will call everyone I know if she can’t get in touch with me. Might as well get this over with.
I hold the phone to my ear and pinch the bridge of my nose, bracing myself. “Hi, mama.”
“Hi, honey! It’s so good to hear your voice! How y’all doin’?”
As soon as I hear her Texas twang, I feel a rush of unexpected relief. “Right now? Feeling guilty that I don’t call you more often.”
She scoffs. “Don’t be silly, Truvy. You’ve got a busy life up there in the big city. You know nothin’ ever changes down here on the farm, anyway. Oh, except your daddy burned down the shed.”
I blink in surprise, though it should never surprise me that my father has set fire to anything. “His taxidermy trophy shed?”
“The very same. Smelled to high heaven. Burnin’ fur creates quite the stench.”
Grimacing, I say, “I can imagine.”
“Those poor little stuffed critters went up in a cloud of smoke so black and noxious the county health inspector himself showed up to see what was goin’ on.”