Page 159 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
Liam’s eyes slipped closed, and he rested his head back on the bed. “I’m sorry.”
But he wasn’t sorry. There wasn’t a single ounce of regret in him over making this choice. Her shock gave way to pricks of anger that stabbed viciously at her nervous system. The feeling made her want to rip off Cecilia’s tennis shoes Michael had given her to wear and chuck one at each of their damn heads.
“You’re sorry? Man, I thought I sucked at being a partner, but even I would have told Cecilia.” Michael reclined casually in his chair. “And what about Killian McIntyre? What does he gain from helping?”
“The McIntyres have reach the Fairweathers don’t,” Liam answered. “Killian loves his brother. Rowan was involved, but with Annabeth… he would never leave her behind, so we pulled him out. He knows next to nothing now.”
“A clean conscience and a clean life for Rowan McIntyre so he can care for Annabeth? Jesus, Cohen. You really are some golden boy hero.” Michael’s eyes narrowed as if he were seeing Liam for the first time. “Cecilia loved Annabeth and talked about her often. When I lost her, I would visit her grave at Haven House. That’s a nice marker she has, a creepy place to be buried, but it’s a nice memorial in her small section. I understand that Simone Howard is the one who picked out the headstone?”
“And my father chose the engraving on it,” Jamison said softly, attempting to build a connection. “Annabeth sees that it’s decorated for every holiday or family event and chooses the flowering bushes for Abe to plant around it. She makes him change out the potted plants for each season.”
Liam’s eyes cracked open, realizing what she was doing. “Selah helps clean the grave when he’s home, and Samuel sits with Evie when she visits. I’ve caught him talking to CeCe on more than one occasion, bringing her flowers to add to Annabeth’s offerings.”
“Cecilia is our family, whether you want us dead or not,” Jamison continued. “She was ours before she was yours, but the difference is, she’s still ours. We care for her now, and had we known what was happening, we would’ve cared for her then, too.”
Michael averted his gaze, his attention drifting to an empty patch of wall. For a moment—just a moment—Jamison would’ve sworn he nodded.
“I knew I was sick in that graveyard,” Michael said, his tone turning almost gentle. “I saw her in the pines, walking with me on the trails. I came back the next day, and she was still there. In the pines. Always wandering in the pines, like she was part of the forest.”
“Brain tumors cause hallucinations.” Liam inclined his head toward the pills on the floor. “Do those help?”
“No, those are for the pain they said I would only have at the end.” Michael blinked a few times and rubbed his temples as he chuckled. “I would never take drugs to stop seeing Cecilia. I want to see her. I want my girl. If Jamison were dead and you had lost her forever, would you willingly take medication to stop seeing her, or would you allow yourself to go insane while getting to live your last days with her at your side?”
Liam didn’t hesitate. “Insanity. I would choose insanity.”
“Ben Fairweather goes through episodes of seeing his woman.” Giving her a sideways glance when she gasped, Michael grinned. “I told you. Your dad’s therapy notes are interesting as hell, and reading them might make you feel better. They certainly made me feel better. Who the hell sees dead people? Apparently, grieving men. I couldn’t get my head around it at first, and I know you probably couldn’t either, but that doesn’t change the fact that you saw Cecilia the night I almost had you. Bruce won’t admit he saw anything kill Denise, but I know you will. You saw her.”
Michael’s voice had become strained as he was—in his way—begging for her to confirm what he’d been seeing was real. And if admitting such a thing would help them, she would do it.
“Yes, I did see something that night.”
“You saw Cecilia.” Michael Sinclair’s damaged mind was leaving no room for doubt, and his unfocused eyes shifted back to the room’s empty corner. “Can you see her now?”
Jamison followed his gaze. The mid-morning sun streamed through the balcony curtains, painting jagged shadows across the walls. The branches outside swayed in the breeze, casting movement over the corner in question.
However, there was no one there.
No CeCe.
No ghost.
But…
Jamison squinted, and the longer she stared at the shadows on the wall, the more they formed a shape. A human shape. A female human shape.
“Um… I…” She couldn’t say no. She couldn’t lie and say there was nothing there because when she tried, it felt like something was holding her tongue between its fingers. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t encourage him, Jamison.” Liam had arched up to look over the bed. Dropping back down to a sitting position, he massaged his cuffed wrist. “Listen, if I lost Jamison, I would do anything to see her again, but you’ve got to know that seeing what is essentially a ghost is just the tumor messing with you.”
“I know, but God, it’s so hard living without her.” Michael didn’t glance away from the shadows on the wall. “I don’t care that I’m going crazy. It’s her. It’s Cecilia with me.”
“Simone would have liked you,” Liam said out of the blue. “You know, if you weren’t a terrorist. She would’ve liked how devoted you are to CeCe. She’s a very particular woman, and I think you would have impressed her.”
Michael Sinclair’s throat worked as he swallowed, finally breaking his stare off with the empty corner. “Wouldn’t that have been something? We could have been normal. Me, Cecilia, and whatever small family we made merging with the Fairweathers and the Howards? Cecilia didn’t think she would be accepted back into the fold, but I knew better. Who wouldn’t want her in their life? She was good and kind, never allowing any of that darkness to touch her.”
A sharp knock rattled the bedroom door, and Michael stood to answer it. “You’re early.”
The man who entered wasn’t what Jamison expected. Eugene Gilbert, the college roommate of Tobias Miller, came to an abrupt halt when he saw them handcuffed to the furniture.
