Page 88 of The Savior

Chance let his concern show as he waited quietly. But Liam couldn’t explain the shithole of confusion he’d dug himself into.

“You good today?” Chance finally asked.

Yes and no, all depending on the time of day.“Fuck if I know.”

“I can find someone to cover for me, and we’ll go hit the range.”

He appreciated the offer to shoot targets but rather stay in. “Nah, I’m okay.”

Chance sighed. “I know your hands are tied, but I promise, brother. It’ll be okay.”

If Chance really had any idea the restraints that Sorenson laid on him, he wouldn’t be so sure. Liam rubbed his forehead, still thinking about Chelsea. “Do you ever think life’s a test?”

“Not really.”

He wasn’t so sure. “Like you don’t know if you’re supposed to pick A over B, because B wasn’t an option.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Then what’s it like? Because I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“She’s not coming back.”But who am I thinking about? Julia? Or Chelsea?Liam walked to a window and flicked apart the blinds. A quick search for her turned up empty.

“What are you talking about?” Chance asked.

Liam pressed the back of his head against the wall as the blinds swayed and clicked against the window. So much time had gone by that Chance didn’t realize who Liam might’ve meant. Restlessness tingled in his shoulders, and he needed to find Chelsea.

“Never mind—but, hey, I’ve got to go.” Liam ended the call without further explanation then called Chelsea.

She didn’t answer—big surprise—and he rushed out the door.

Mrs. Donovan was sweeping her front mat despite the late hour. She cocked an eyebrow but didn’t stop the back-and-forth movement of her broom.

Liam looked down the hall then at the closer set of stairs. “Did you see which way—”

“She used these stairs,” Mrs. Donovan shared without slowing the motion of the broom. “I haven’t heard any cars race off.”

“Thank you.” Liam skipped stairs as he ran down the flight and stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. He scanned the dark parking lot. A set of headlights illuminated the back row, and he sprinted that way.

The dull light from a lamp post showed her bowed head resting in her hands.

“Chelsea!”

She jolted at the sound of her name then quickly shoved her Jeep into reverse. Liam thumped his hand on her hood as she inched backward. “Hang on.”

But she crept slowly as if she didn’t see him or hear the slap on her SUV.

“Hey.” He walked to the driver’s window and knocked. “We need to talk.”

She stopped backing and the glass rolled partially down. “Sure, we should.” The fake perkiness in her voice was too much. “But later.”

“No—”

The window whirred up.

“Dammit, Chelsea.” The window stopped with an inch to spare. Her lips parted, and Liam shoved his fists into his pockets. If he didn’t, there was a good chance he’d hold the vehicle still until she spoke to him. “Let’s go. We gotta talk.”

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