Chapter 45 Happy to Oblige
happy to oblige
Liam
“I don’t remember some things, so we’ll need Christian or the guys to fill in the gaps. I’m guessing that’s the narcotics.”
“Or the pain,” she adds quietly, and points to her head. She gets it.
I hate that she gets it.
“I was trapped. I escaped. I stole an ATV and was shot.” I point to my shoulder with the finger holding my coffee mug. “Christian had a better extraction plan than I did. I adjusted, but the ATV ran out of gas prior to making it to the meet-up spot.
“Set down your mug, Ayla-girl.”
She looks at me, hesitant, her brows pinching together in worry, but does what I ask.
“I had to do the last half mile on foot. I hadn’t had food or water in, I don’t know, twenty-four hours. I was bleeding and I slept like shit in that hole.”
I hold her gaze. “I came over the hill to see two masked men holding Christian at gunpoint.”
Her gasp is so loud it frightens Sophia, who juts her bottom lip out and wails. The sound sets off Poe who fusses right back. These girls…. I palm Poe’s back and purring meets my ears.
Ayla rubs Sophia’s back and speaks softly to her as she bores holes in me with her eyes.
“So, not all of it, I guess,” I say. “There was a moment—a split second—when I decided if Sophia had to grow up without a dad or an uncle, that that was an easy decision. So, I drew fire.” I work on my coffee and stare out over the huge lawn my sister and her husband have.
I don’t even have a lawn. My sister’s is manicured.
“So you drew fire?” my sister says, though I don’t think she’s asking. She repeats the words and from the corner of my eye, I watch her swipe away the tears that run unchecked down her cheeks. It takes several moments. She sobs quietly, holding her daughter who’s burrowed back into her wrap.
After a fashion, she says aloud, “I’m so pissed at you.”
“I can handle that.” I turn to face her.
“I could’ve lost you.”
“I know,” I offer back, setting my mug down.
“She could’ve lost you.” Her temper is rising.
I don’t reply. She’s spinning herself up, and I’m superfluous to the scene now.
“Who would’ve taken care of her then?”
Sitting up, I wince as I face my sister. “Her dad.” Knees wide, I set my elbows down before thinking better of it. Fuck.
“What?” Ayla reacts faster than I can imagine. “What is it?”
“Bruised elbows and bruised knees. I’m guessing I buckled.”
“I want to hit you so hard right now. But I can’t find a spot that you’re not black and blue. Later, though.”
I laugh out loud. “Are you reserving the right to hurt me when I’m less injured?”
“Yes.”
“Your redhead is showing.”
“Yours too,” she spits back.
“Just the beard.” I pull my hand through it, bringing it to a point before it springs back to its wilder nature.
Standing, I drop Poe into the grass despite her mewls of protest. She pees, which is a relief, and crouches down, springing onto my ankle, clinging with all four paws.
“Come here.” I pry her off my ankle and place her back in the hoodie.
“I always knew you were a big softie.”
“Do I look like a softie to you?” I scrunch my brows and gesture to my body.
“No, but your heart is.”
I wink. “That’ll be our little secret. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to figure out what’s going on with my wife.” I head back upstairs, hating going up as much as I did coming down.
Lorien
Black eyes suck. A black eye for family pictures sucks worse. Between Mom’s broken arm, my swollen eye and black shadow underneath, and adding a sixth person to the photo, our poses are purely strategic.
Mom turns so her right arm is out of view.
I’m placed so my left eye isn’t front and center.
Sam and Billy look put upon that they have to be there at all.
Dad appears emotionally constipated. Strider is the only one who looks remotely normal, though he’s still wearing the anger he donned last night when he heard about move-in day.
Worst family photos ever.
If we have any cheeriness in these, I’ll be shocked.
I think the photographer would too. He looks at his view finder between takes and holds up a finger after each shot, indicating he needs one more.
Then another, then another. Maybe he can cobble the best of every face from any given picture and photoshop us into one big happy family.
After smiling painfully and standing awkwardly for more time than any human should be expected to in the July sun, we call it quits.
Mom wants us to go back home and seeing as how she’s on the warpath, Dad is adamant about her getting her way. Sam and Billy are staying there at least until their flight leaves tonight. That just leaves me and Strider, and far be it from us to be the two most difficult people in the group.
Besides, all my stuff is there, so we pile into the vehicles and head to our parents’.
I ask my brother to stop at his house along the way to pick up the salad fixings.
He’ll never eat enough greens that the birthday stash won’t go bad, and I haven’t had a vegetable since the airport Thursday night.
I grab my phone as it sits in a bag of rice as well. I have little hope for it, but there’s no sense in leaving it here.
I’m kicking myself for not writing down any numbers. I don’t have Liam’s or Ayla’s. Heck, I don’t know my family’s either.
I can figure out boarding the plane. They still print boarding passes, but how to find Liam once I arrive could prove to be challenging. I certainly can’t call a taxi or book a rideshare.
As I’m walking back to Strider’s truck, he has an odd expression and he indicates he’s on the phone, so I wait until he waves me over. I slide in quietly only to hear a familiar voice. A voice forcing both of my worlds to collide.
Liam.
“… no answer and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“She told me about you, you know?”
Liam hedges, but it’s so smooth no one would know it. “The grumbly neighbor who doesn’t like her playing Madonna through the walls?”
“More like the neighbor to whom I owe a debt for saving my sister when I couldn’t.”
“Oh that…”
“Yeah,” my brother says to the car, but he’s staring at me. “That.”
“I have a younger sister, too, so I get it. No need for a marker.”
“Is your sister too na?ve for her own good?” Strider puts it in reverse and backs out onto his street.
“That’s a loaded question that diminishes Lorien, so I’ll refrain from answering.”
Strider looks at me and smiles. “I like you.” He says to the car while adding to me, “I like him for you, Lolo.”
Kill me now. I widen my eyes at my brother. He’s outing me and that reveals too much.
“Lolo?” There’s humor in Liam’s voice. “Lorien, you never told me you had a nickname.”
“Because I’m not four years old, that’s why. Hi, Liam. All okay at home?” That sounds innocuous, right?
“It’s been a day.” I’ve heard that once before from him and said it once to him. Both days were absolutely terrible.
“I had one of those myself yesterday. My phone is toast, so I’m incommunicado.”
“I wondered.” The conversation we’re having while having a whole second one in front of my brother is mind-blowing.
“What she’s not saying,” Strider cuts in as he turns onto the main drag. “Is that she took on a bitchy waitress yesterday who dropped her phone in a pitcher of beer and gave her a black eye.”
My brother grins, looking triumphant. Liam, on the other hand, goes deathly silent.
“Lorien, she gave you a black eye or you gave her one?”
“I was the recipient.”
The growl that comes over the speakers surprises Strider enough he gives me a worried look.
“Five to three, William.” I can’t stop the glee in my voice.
“Yeah. Five to three.”
We pull into my parents’ driveway, and I look at my brother. “Give me a minute?”
He looks between me and the dash displaying a Colorado number.
“Are you sure?” He makes no attempt to lower his voice or mime the question.
“Positive. Thank you.” And I mean it in both senses of the word.
He passes me the phone and points at the keys before grabbing the greens and heading into Mom and Dad’s.
I flip the phone off Bluetooth and take a deep breath. “Hi. We’re alone. You had a day?”
My husband takes two audible breaths and for some reason, I picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. There’s also some vibration in the background I can’t place.
“Yeah, Wifey. Yesterday was shit. Today’s not much better knowing you have a black eye.”
“I have a black eye, but I also have a police report where I filed charges against her. Does that help?”
“Not really. But when I bury her digitally, I’ll be less pissed.”
Mom walks outside and uses her good hand to start waving me in. When I don’t move fast enough, she starts walking my way.
“Liam, my mom is coming. I won’t be able to call you tomorrow but my flight arrives at two-fifty. Can I bother you for a ride?”
The silence is deafening, all except that constant vibration that’s very near the phone.
“It’s not a bother, Lolo.” There’s humor in his voice.
“William.” I say sternly just as Mom opens Strider’s car door.
“What are you doing out here, Lorien? Everyone’s waiting on you. And you promised we’d bake.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She doesn’t move, though. She just stares expectantly.
“I, uh. I have to go, but I appreciate you calling.”
“You appreciate it, huh?” His voice drops to melted chocolate. “Well, I’m happy to oblige.” I swear he’s not referring to calling me.