Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LIAM
I can’t deny her, even if the ground beneath me feels like the thin ice I crawled across to rescue our dog, Bets, when I was a kid. I fell into the pond and nearly drowned.
Don’t regret it, even though Bets fell in with me. I kept an iron grip on her, and when I was saved, so was she.
I won’t regret this, either. Or at least I won’t regret helping Briar. She just proved she’s capable of standing up for herself, but she deserves someone else to stand up for her too.
Besides, if I don’t do as she asks, I’ll probably do something rash. I’ve already had at least a dozen intrusive thoughts about beating Don Sterling bloody and burning Sterling Manor to the ground.
“You got it, Princess,” I say. “We’ll go now.”
When we get to the bike, I hand her the helmet from the top box, expecting she’ll make a fuss about accepting it.
I’ll have to put it on her myself if she tries to object, but she doesn’t.
She slips it on her head, then adjusts the strap until it’s as tight as it goes.
Still too big for her but better than nothing, because we have to get out.
Now. The need to get away thrums off her like a low chord from Cormac’s bass.
I gesture to Briar’s long dress. “How attached are you to that dress?”
“My mother bought it for me. I hate it.”
I grab the utility knife out of my backpack and hand it to her. “We don’t want it getting caught in the wheel.”
Eyes shining, she opens the knife and slices half her skirt off, revealing her legs, encased in black stockings that hug her every dip and curve.
“God, that felt good,” she says, handing the knife back to me.
I return it to my bag without looking, my gaze on her legs.
The loose green fabric flutters down from her fingers and gets caught by the wind.
Before either of us can grab it, it ripples up and into a tree and snags on a branch.
It looks like a flag, and I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t pledge allegiance to Briar’s flag.
She’s laughing, her eyes gleaming, as she climbs onto the bike after me and clings to my waist. She nestles her head into my shoulder, and an unfamiliar feeling unfurls in my chest.
I want her, obviously, but I’m used to that by now. This is a bristly, protective feeling that’s usually reserved for my sister and brother.
Those fuckers at that table hurt her. They all hurt her, and they should pay.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” she whispers in my ear.
“All you need to remember is to hang on tight, Princess. Don’t ever let go.”
The front door of Sterling Manor bursts open.
“Briar?” her father bellows.
“Does the gate open automatically when people are leaving?” I ask Briar.
If not, I’ll have to try pushing it open manually while her father shouts at me. Not ideal, but I bet I can do it. Bonus points if I break it.
“Yes.” Her arms squeeze around me, a tendril of her hair tickling my neck. “Let’s go.”
“Briar, get back here right this moment,” her father snaps. “You’re acting like a child.”
We’re facing the gate, but I reach back and give him the finger. I figure the anger management classes must have worked after all, because I settle for doing no more than that.
I rev up the bike, getting a gasp from Briar, and then we’re on the move. The gate opens before us like a promise. You CAN get the fuck out of here, congratulations.
Truthfully, it feels good not having the helmet on. The air is whistling in my ears and blowing my hair back from my face. Danger dances through my veins.
Nah, it’s her that’s got me feeling like my blood is dancing.
The whole way to the gym, Briar holds me tightly, her arms wrapped around my waist, her whole body arced into mine. Probably because she’s scared she’s going to fall off, but I like the way it feels.
My dick likes it too. It gets a little harder every second.
This trip to the gym isn’t about me, though. Briar’s got some shit to exorcise. Been there, needed that. Better for her to do it with me than to blow up her life.
When we get to the gym, all the lights are out, not that I expected anything different.
It must be past nine, which means the place is ours.
Mick gave me a key last year when he needed someone to stick around late on the weekend to receive a package, and he’s never asked for it back.
I think he understands that I sometimes need to work out when no one else is around—when it’s only me and my demons.
And he’s a good enough friend to support me without being asked.
After I park the bike, I wait for Briar to get off, and then I climb off myself, watching as she removes the helmet. Her fingers are shaking a little, so I take over and then return the helmet to its spot on the bike.
I can’t resist running a hand through her hair to smooth it. Her beauty strums another chord inside of me.
“Liam,” she whispers, her soft eyes holding mine.
So much sadness and need are carried on my name. I want to drown in those deep waters, but I also want to survive, so I start walking toward the front door of Bell’s.
She follows me but waits a few steps away while I unlock the door. Probably because she’s feeling it too—the potential for everything to shift in a way we shouldn’t allow.
The familiar scents of the gym wash over me. Sweat and dust. I take off my coat and hang it, and in my peripheral vision I watch Briar do the same. She pauses before removing her high-heeled shoes as well.
I lock the door behind us and head onto the main floor of the gym.
I don’t look back as she trails me inside. I can’t. The sound of her padding in after me is enough to sharpen my awareness of her.
I make my way to the rack of gloves, finding the pair that’s too big. I make a mental note to get this woman some gloves that fit. If she’s going to make this brewery work despite everything stacked against her, she’s going to need them.
I can do that for her.
At least I can do that.
She pauses beside me, and I let myself soak her in. She looks so sad it makes me want to kill someone, to be perfectly honest. The anger is hot and brutal and familiar, and it feels good.
Anger is never confusing. It doesn’t make you feel helpless. It demands.
“You should be angry,” I tell her, the words coming out like sandpaper. “I’m fucking angry.”
She surprises me by smiling. “Why?”
“No one gets to treat you that way. Especially not them.”
I’ve been watching her for weeks. Trying to come up with ways to make this brewery work for her sake as much as mine. Because she’s the kind of woman who makes a man want to believe.
“Put them on,” I say, handing the gloves to her.
I watch as she does, her hands still trembling.
“That woman at your parents’ house. You said she cut your hair?”
She pulls the gloves on. She should look ridiculous in that ruined green dress and the boxing gloves, but she doesn’t. She’s a vision. A fucking goddess. An angel.
Mine, a voice in my head whispers. And I practically claw the back of my head to shut it up.
Briar meets my gaze, and I’m grateful to see the spark of determination in her eyes.
“The boy she had a crush on liked me.”
“Of course he fucking did. Who would settle for her if they thought they might have a shot with you?”
She gives me a trembling smile. “I’ve always kept my hair long. I like it this way. It makes me feel…” She shrugs. “It’s stupid.”
“It makes you feel safe.” I let my fingers trace the length of one of the locks. “Nothing stupid about wanting to feel safe.”
She turns to me with a gleam in her eyes. “How did you know?”
“Takes one to know one, Princess. Now, what did that cunt do to you?”
“You sound like Hannah.”
“We were raised by the same asshole. There was no hope for either of us.”
“You met my father,” she says softly, the words knifing through me.
“Yes, that was my displeasure. Now, what did she do to you? You might as well tell me now. If you don’t, I’m going to take it upon myself to find out.”
She glances down, and without thinking, I reach over and tip her chin up—tension flash-frying me when our eyes meet.
She’s quiet for a moment, and I don’t think she’s going to confide in me. None of my business, really, so I should back the fuck off. But for once in my life, I want to know something I’ve got no right knowing.
She parts her lips. “She…” Pain fills her eyes, and I stroke her chin with my fingers.
“She and her friends…they had this dumb club. They invited me to join them, and I was so excited, even though she’d always been kind of mean to me.
Melly said I had to meet them in this old cabin in the woods…
” She takes a break, working up to it. “They tied me to a chair and chopped my hair off. All of it. It wasn’t this long back then, but it was way past my shoulders.
There were…” She swallows, her eyes full of tears.
“There were some patches that were practically bald in the back. They left me out there in the cabin, and no one found me until the next morning.”
“I see,” I say, already calculating what I could do to ruin this woman’s life.
I’d never hurt her physically, but there are many ways you can ruin a person.
Sure, the assault happened years ago, but it’s obvious Melly feels as much remorse over what she did as I feel about hitting the owner of Mountain Morning.
“And I suppose they warned you not to tell anyone.”
Briar nods, her chin moving in my hand, which is still cupping it. “I said I’d decided to cut my hair. My parents and the teachers thought…they thought I’d had some kind of episode. Melly got all of the other kids to call me Batshit Briar.”
“And you still didn’t tell.”
“No one…”
“You don’t think anyone would have done anything,” I say woodenly, feeling like I probably should have turned pyro and set that mansion on fire after all.
The look on her face says it all.
I run my hands through her gorgeous hair. “You don’t cut it much.”