Page 78 of Debt of My Soul

The stern expression I’ve come to associate with Liam has softened. The edges and sharp lines of his face are muted anddull as sleep has pulled him into a moment of peace—a reprieve from the disgusting world he’s a part of.

Unlike my fitful night, he looks calm and well-rested. I eye the bed, jealous and slightly disappointed I’ll be on the couch for the foreseeable future.

I shake my head at my intrusion into his personal space, deeply unsettled by my prolonged gaze. Quickly, I spin around and dart out.

I end up showering and getting dressed, tossing on some jean shorts and a shirt. Then I shove my damp hair under a navy baseball cap I don’t remember grabbing at River’s. She probably snuck it in there for me.

Quietly, I open the front door, looking directly at why I’m out here in the first place.

The rocking chair is one of a kind—quite literally because Liam only has one. Scooting the chair closer to the porch rail, I plant myself in the seat, twirling my feet in the rays of sun warming the porch boards. With each rock in the chair, the stained cabin floorboards creak, adding to the sound of shaking branches swaying in the early morning breeze.

The contrast between last night and this morning is indescribable. Except for one or two people far off near the warehouse, not another soul moves around the cabins.

The bandages on my wrist have started to curl and peel, and I pick at the rolled edges, fighting the urge to unwrap the whole thing and study my new mark.

“We probably need to swap your bandages.”

His voice jolts me upright and I drop my legs from soaking up vitamin D.

I turn to see Liam leaning in the doorframe, eyes narrowed on where I grip my wrist. His gaze breaks when I move my hand to the side and he studies my face, lingering on my hat a bit too long.

“Yeah, I was just thinking that. Got any more wrap?”

Liam nods and gestures back toward the inside of the cabin. Slinking out of my sunspot where I’m curled up like a cat, I shuffle back toward the door. Liam doesn’t move as I approach. Instead, he glances back toward the top of my head and says, “Nice hat.”

I shrug my shoulders and give him a confused look because I have no idea what his problem is with this hat. The corner of his mouth twitches before he steps aside, holding the door open.

“Sit down and I’ll get some more bandages,” he says.

I do as he says, sliding a less than comfortable chair out from the table and plopping down. My stomach, suddenly triggered by the dining room table, growls loudly as Liam makes his way back to me.

“Help yourself to anything you need in the kitchen. I know there isn’t much, but we can stop at a store on our way back here this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” I ask.

Liam pulls out the other chair next to mine, thighs spread wide. He’s in black jeans again, with a black V-neck that hangs loose, exposing a bit of his chest. I blink away the unsolicited thoughts bobbing in my mind.

“I have a meeting I need to go to. Should only take a minute, but it’s about an hour away. We’ll take the truck and get groceries on the way back.”

He takes my hand, and I can’t help but flick my eyes to his. Although he doesn’t look at me, he softly turns my wrist over in his hand, causing goosebumps to spring up along my arms. I jerk away at the sensation of his fingertips over my skin.

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts,” he says, face wincing. I almost chuckle at the fact he didn’t hurt me at all. That it’s his touch generating the desire to pull away.

Awkwardly, I hold out my hand to him again and swallow when his proficient hands make quick work to unwrap my burn.

It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. The small horseshoe is a reddish-pink. What I thought would look like welts, considering I have several strips across my wrist already, is indented. The skin feels taut and there’s a cloudy pink seeping out around the mark. But overall, it doesn’t look bad.

Liam opens a tub of antiseptic and drops a dot on my wrist, using his thumb to spread it out. His touch is featherlight and it goes beyond the horseshoe, grazing over the welts on my wrist for a moment too long.

I pull away again. “Thank you. I can wrap it.”

Liam tilts his head, bringing his hand to scratch at his beard. He sucks in a breath, then gives me a tight nod, lifting from his seat in a more graceful move than I’d expect from someone his size.

While I chide myself and attempt to do up my wrist one-handed, Liam clinks around in the kitchen until the smell of bacon whirls around the whole cabin. He sets two plates out and places two pieces on each one with a slice of over-burned toast.

I try to hide my small smile when he curses at the stove before kicking it to shut off. He brings over the two dishes and sets them down on the table, then pulls out the chair next to me.

Some part of me wants to be petty. Wants to swallow the wordsthank you,before they make it past the tip of my tongue. But I also know this could’ve been much worse for me, and forthatI’m grateful.

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