Page 83 of Veiled in Brick

It was apparent—to me, at least—that he knew that I was anything but. I thoroughly appreciated the lie, as the air still felt as though it was being sucked out of me.

Claire yelled, “What happened?!”

I focused on the blades of grass beneath my feet, and my shoulders shook with my unsteady breathing.

“We’ll be back in the car in a minute; just getting some air,” Liam told her.

“Okay, but what—”

“Claire,” he bit back at her in an uncharacteristically sharp tone. “A minute. Okay?”

I didn’t hear her acquiescence, but her steps patted along the pavement, and the car door opened and closed once again.

“Thank you,” I said in an exhale.

“You’re good,” he reiterated. My skin was damp with a sheen of cool sweat, and there was no doubt that Liam could feel as such considering that his hand was still grazing its way back and forth over my shirt in a comforting manner. It stuck to my skin, but I paid it no mind. He said, “Just breathe, Zo’. In.” he inhaled slowly, “and out,” he let the breath go.

I attempted to replicate his methodical breathing, and failed as a shuddering, “Fuck, sorry,” came from me instead.

“Shh,” Liam shushed me quietly. “In,” he whispered again upon his inhale.

I tried once more to copy his actions and fell short, only to be met with further words of consolation. It took three more iterations of breathing exercises for me to calm myself enough to speak properly. When I finally reached that point and noted that my hands, which had gone numb, were regaining their feeling, I coughed loudly to clear my throat.

“Okay,” I mumbled. “Fuck—okay.”

Liam let out a long breath himself, and his hand stopped its motions across my back, landing on my waist and remaining there. He squeezed me with his fingertips, and I glanced his way. His dark eyes were pinched, the scar over his lip crooked up as his mouth just barely upturned in a manner of sympathy.

“Okay?”

My cheeks heated, my vulnerability from the last few minutes hanging in the air like some sort of poisonous gas that was threatening to choke me.

“Sorry,” I told him quickly.

“Sorry?” Liam replied, “I’ve been there. You don’t have to tell me sorry.” I thanked him with my eyes, not my words, as I recalled the various times that I had seen him in a similar state—head between his legs or resting on my chest as he took deep, methodical breaths in an attempt to wrestle his own demons. I nodded, and he said, “You know I have to ask, though.”

I sighed, reaching down to tug at the grass beneath me and ripping a few blades away from the ground to tear up between my fingers. I didn’t have to ask what he meant by that—it was clear that he was referencing who was on the other end of the phone.

“It was him.”

Liam’s jaw clenched tightly, and he asked in a sharp tone, “How the fuck did he get your phone number?”

“Didn’t exactly ask,” I murmured.

“Shit—yeah, okay. What did he say?”

“He knows that I’m not in Salem—or in the apartment, I dunno.” I took a large breath in, felt my lungs expand with it to the point of near-pain, and let it out. “Said he’s heard us—me.”

Liam looked to me in question, asking me with narrowed eyes, “Heard you?”

I replied in a barely audible, “Having sex. Don’t, um—don’t know how, he must have just been around the complex? You know how thin the walls are.”

Liam’s gaze widened to the point that his eyes were almost bulging from his skull.

“Oh,” he said the word in what sounded like a grunt.

I tugged at the grass that I held in my grasp, ripping it into tiny pieces and letting it fall to the ground.

“I, ah,” I hesitated, deciding on the most pertinent details of the events from moments ago, and stated, “pretty sure he was jacking off.”

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