Page 7 of The Savior

“Have you talked to Chelsea?” Linda asked.

He wondered how so many people could stomach the idea of eating. Celebration or not. They’d gathered because someone had died. No matter how much time had passed.

“Liam?”

He jerked out of his thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. Chelsea?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. Nothing other than a wave hello.”

“You should ask her to tell you one of her stories from when they were kids. Most are hysterical.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Those girls were a handful.”

Linda evaluated the quieting living room. “I’m worried about you.”

He turned to Linda. “Don’t.”

She gave a motherly smile. “That’s what I do.”

“I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Unable to take the scrutiny, he shifted.Does she want me to apologize?Does she hate that I didn’t save Julia?He tugged at the dress shirt collar. “Are you sure you don’t need something? A glass of wine?”

He glanced at Chelsea, who stood in the corner, appraising what else she might need to clean or tidy. He could see a tinge of sadness and exhaustion shadow her face. Even if Chelsea had shared funny memories, he could recognize someone haunted by the same demons.

Linda wrapped her arm behind his stiff shoulders and offered a concerned hug, and then, stood. “Oh, I forgot to mention. You had a package delivered here earlier today.” She held up a hand as someone waved goodbye to her. “I asked Chelsea to put it in Frank’s study.”

“Thanks.” His curiosity piqued.

Linda walked away, and Chelsea caught his gaze. The corners of her eyes tightened, making her seem as if she was glaring. He wouldn’t blame her if she were. He hadn’t protected her best friend nor mingled today while offering his memories.

But she lasered in on a rogue plate with a crumpled napkin and crossed the living room to retrieve it. She searched the living room again for missed trash then headed to the kitchen.

Not wanting to risk another conversation about Julia, he slipped from the living room and escaped to the study.

The murmur of guests down the hall was dulling. He wanted the event to end so he could go back to the numbness.

A manila envelope was propped on the base of a desk lamp. The scrawl across the front only listed his name, no recipient or sender address.

Liam sat at Frank’s desk and picked up the envelope, noticing a framed family picture. He closed his eyes and wanted to fade from the house. But wishing to disappear made him feel empty. Damn it! He wanted to celebrate Julia. But not in the same way as most of those people who arrived hours ago. He didn’t know half of them, and nothing about the gathering seemed to honor her.

Or maybe he was just an asshole.

Liam unbuttoned his collar and took a deep breath. He pushed from Frank’s desk and left the study, heading upstairs. He didn’t know where he was going until the door to Julia’s old bedroom waited in front of him.

This was what he needed. He’d said goodbye a year ago. Mourned and struggled with grief and guilt. But he somehow hadn’t returned to this room.

Carefully, he turned the doorknob as though moving too fast might disturb the time that had been frozen on the other side.

Nothing had changed. It wasn’t as if Julia still lived there, but her bedroom was the same from the day she left for college, and Linda hadn’t touched a thing since Julia had died. The bulletin board held pictures and cards. The bedroom had a cotton-candy air about it. Soft and sweet, as though if he touched anything, it might melt away.

Liam remembered. He felt. And he knew that life was moving on, but he didn’t know how to get beyond the bleakness that shadowed each day. He dropped onto the side of the bed and waited to feel less hollow.

But he didn’t feel anything—not even the guilt that he always clung too. Liam squeezed his hands into fists, crumpling the envelope he’d still held, and flung it across the room. The impact barely smacked the wall, and it dropped. The unfulfilling throw agitated his frustration. “Fucking hell.”

Liam reached for the pillow and launched it. Hints of Julia’s scent clung to the linens. The pillow crashed into the window. The blinds clattered, then her desk lamp crashed over the edge.Finally!That was what he needed. Noise. Damage. Not a damn celebration!

A knock sounded on the bedroom room, and his irritation flared at the interruption. He sucked in a deep breath and held it until his lungs burned.

“Liam?” Chelsea called quietly.

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