Page 54 of Veiled in Brick

The threat that was hanging over my head earlier like a storm cloud now appeared to be safely in the distance. The thunder could have been clapping away, lightning strikes setting trees ablaze in a forest deep within the Appalachians, but I wouldn’t have known. Or, perhaps, I wouldn’t have cared, for the buzzing of tension in the room was currently far louder than that storm. In fact, it was fucking deafening.

I was standing in the entrance of Liam’s apartment, loosely holding a small bag of essentials in my left hand and my pillow in the other. Walking into his abode was a stinging reminder of the current state of our friendship, the prior instances playing over in my mind like my own, personally crafted, highlight reel of hell. Our moment of intimacy was first, the feel of his lips on mine never having left my thoughts since the instant they connected. Then, Liam’s wide, aghast eyes as I screamed at him the next morning blew a crater of guilt in my chest. And, finally, his caring touch while he tended to me—as if I hadn’t vocally damned him mere hours before—was so vivid that I could sense his hands enveloping my wrists as he cleaned my scraped palms.

Liam was getting himself a rather large glass of water from the dispenser on his refrigerator when I dropped my belongings, and he glanced toward the noise. His focus moved from my things on the floor to my face and, upon seeing my expression, he pulled his cup away from the fridge and set it on the island counter, the glass clinking against the marble.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied.

He smiled gently. “Ya don’t look good, Zo’.”

“Thanks.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” He nodded his head toward me in a gesture to my apartment across the hall. “Shit’s stressful. You okay?”

I laughed a bitter laugh, for I wasn’t thinking about the break-in. I wasn’t thinking about the flowers. And I most definitely wasn’t thinking about the man who had pinned me to the cobblestones. Liam cocked his head curiously at my behavior.

“Shit’s stressful is an understatement,” I responded, and he nodded in agreement. I added, “I’m coming to terms with that.”

Liam took a long drink from his water and set it back down on the counter.

“Are you, really?”

“I am,” I assured him. “That’s not even what was on my mind—”

“What is it, then?” His question made me hesitate, my mouth hanging open with unspoken words, and Liam hummed to himself. “Oh,” he muttered. “Right.”

The way that he avoided my gaze, focusing intently on his glass of water, pushed me right over the edge. The remorse inside of me overflowed, and I sighed audibly.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “I’m sorry.”

He met my eyes then, shock present within them as he asked, “Huh? What for?”

I lugged my body to his couch and sank into it. “You’re a good man, Liam.”

He quickly strolled over to where I sat and lowered himself beside me. I noted that he was careful to keep an entire cushion’s worth of space between us as he eyed me with a cautious gaze.

“Why are you being so nice?” he spoke slowly.

“I’m nice on occasion.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “You are.”

He said it with an inflection that showed his clear confusion about my current behavior, and I stated, “I went fuckin’ apeshit on you the other day. You’ve been so good to me, anyway.” Liam pressed his lips together tightly, averting his eyes as I said, “And you—”

“Deserved it?”

“Don’t say that, Lee—”

He shook his head. “No, no, I did. I—” Liam exhaled heavily as he glanced at the ceiling briefly. “I know I made a mistake, I—”

“There’s that fuckin’ word again,” I grumbled.

He finally looked to me. “What word?”

I scoffed. “Mistake.”

“Well,” he began, “you were with Jay, so it—it was a douchebag move.” His dark eyes were apologetic as he continued, “And then he knew and I’m sure he was fuckin’ pissed; the guy hates me.”

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