Page 69 of Moth
“I can’t…” Leaving the store at all feels daunting. Impossible.
But not because of Branden,a part of me hisses.He isn’t who you’re hoping might come by. That’s why you’re here.
“No worries. Oh, and is this yours?” He hands me something I crumple into a fist without looking at it—a business card. “Anyway, if you’re busy, I’ll leave you to it—”
“Wait.” I head inside for my bag, dropping the card inside it, and fish out my cell phone. As it powers on, dozens of messages crop up, filed under one contact—Bran <3. If I were hoping they’d reinforce my decision to keep hiding, they don’t. It’s the same demands over and over again.Where are you? Answer me, Hannah!
But not every message is from him. As Mara said, she’d texted me the other day, but her most recent one is from barely an hour ago.Wish me luck! ;)
When I return to Liam, there’s an ache in my throat that wasn’t there a minute ago. “Can we just walk for a while?”
“Sure.” He nods, letting me set the pace and direction, but it’s somehow still a shock that we end up in the part of town we do. If he recognizes it, he doesn’t say. Looking at his face, I can’t discern ifhewas Branden’s initial informant who spied me in a certain tattoo shop just up ahead.
Rather than pass it, we enter a sandwich shop across the street and split a sub.
Liam regales me with stories about his suburban upbringing and cracks jokes about what it’s like on the force. His voice has a way of setting me at ease, lightening the atmosphere of even this dingy shop. His mood is infectious, and despite everything that’s happened within the past forty-eight hours…thisalmostfeels normal. Two friends grabbing food, just as it had with Mara—minus the figure who exits a building nearby, his head held high as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s alone, and I don’t know why the fact surprises me so much.
Mara hasn’t texted me back yet, so I have no way of knowing if her seduction attempts succeeded this time or not. Is she up in his apartment right now, lounging on his couch, waiting for him to come back?
He’s not wearing a haphazardly thrown together outfit, but instead a typical black shirt and jeans. His hair hangs loosely, obscuring his eyes, and he doesn’t notice me at first. Not until he’s almost completely passed the shop.
Our eyes meet, and I stiffen. The sensation I feel is a shock—electricity crackling between us as his brow furrows, his mouth tightening into a hard line. But he keeps walking…
And I turn to Liam, maintaining my easy smile. I listen to more of his stories. I nod along as though enthralled. I try to ignore, even forget, and pretend that this is fine, and my life isfine,and the world could truly be so simple. So nice.
Maybe it’s not too selfish to hope for as much. Too petty. Spiteful. I could genuinely enjoy this.
Liam doesn’t tell me to fuck off when we finish eating. He doesn’t make references to sex or his dick as I follow him outside. It’s chilly out, and when I shiver, he offers me his coat.
“This weather is a mess this time of year,” he teases with a smile. But when he slips an arm around me, I don’t resist. If anything, I lean into the embrace, racking my brain to describe what he feels like…
It doesn’t take long to, and the results devastate me more than I would have ever expected. I feelnothing. No sparks emanate from his touch. No searing heat radiates in his breath. No anger. No rage. No conflicting, enthralling, electrifying emotions.
I feel like myself. Boring, enduring, sheltered Hannah. I’m no animal in his orbit, and he’s a pleasant, predictable presence who would never goad me to that point.
“You okay?” he asks, eyeing me from the bridge of his nose.
I nod, still holding my fake grin. My mouth hurts from forcing the expression for so long. “I’m fine.”
“Well, here you are,” he says when we reach my building. “I’ll tell Bran you’re safe before he calls out the cavalry.”
“Thank you,” I croak as reality returns. For all I know, Bran is already inside, waiting for me.
But there’s no point in running forever.
I do everything I can to steel myself as I head upstairs, holding my breath the entire time. I reach my door and test the handle.
It’s locked. Once I get it open, I’m shocked to discover that everything is still in place. My furniture. My tulips.Hiscamera. A blinking red light alludes to the fact that it’s on and recording. He’s watching. Waiting for me.
I barely register crossing over to it and swiping it off my TV, sending it crashing to the floor. It’s not broken. I could salvage it, but I don’t. A cry rips from my lips as I stomp on the tiny metal body until the insides spill out. Again. Again. Again.
The second my phone rings, I answer it, my breathing heavy. “Stay away from me. I mean it. I’m not moving, and if you ever touch me again… I’ll tell. I swear to God, I will.”
“Hannah…”
“I love you,” I insist, my voice breaking. “I do. But you can’t control me anymore.”
I hang up, slumping against my windowsill. Tears burn behind my eyelids as I stare from the glass, desperate for a view of the scenery I usually take comfort in. But it’s tainted tonight.
