Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Julian responds in kind, his mouth hot and insistent against mine, his breath coming faster.
His hands slide up the curve of my back, fingertips tracing my spine with achingly tender precision, leaving trails of heat on my skin.
When he reaches the delicate clasp at the top of the teddy, he pauses for just a heartbeat—a silent question—, and I arch into him in answer.
The clasp gives way with the softest click, and the white lace teddy falls away from my body, slipping down my shoulders and pooling between us.
Rain batters the glass. Thunder shakes the walls.
We make love slow and urgent all at once, our bodies discovering each other's rhythms and responses, learning the secret language that exists only between us. Every touch feels both tender and desperate, as if we're trying to memorize each other through our fingertips.
Julian's hands map the curves of my body with careful attention, committing every detail to memory, while mine trace the firm lines of his shoulders, his back, the beautiful tattoo on his arm.
His lips find the sensitive spot below my ear, the hollow of my throat, and I gasp his name into the storm-dark room. He whispers my name back like a prayer, like an incantation, like I'm something sacred and precious that he's afraid might disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough.
And I cling to him desperately, my fingers digging into his skin, pulling him closer, deeper, trying to lose myself completely in this moment with him—trying to replace every terrible memory Daniel left on my body with something pure, real and hot as fuck.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, his arm heavy across my waist, my hand on his chest. We smile at each other, and his heartbeat steadies beneath my palm.
Safe.
I feel safe.
And then…
The thought slams into me with the force of a freight train, stealing the breath from my lungs and turning my blood to ice.
What if Daniel decides to hurt Julian? What if he goes after him? What if his obsession with controlling me, with owning me, extends to eliminating anyone who gets in his way?
The terror of that possibility crashes over me like a wave, drowning out the warmth and safety I felt just moments ago.
My breath hitches. Daniel knows about him. Saw the kiss. Has been watching, following, hunting.
What if he—
I imagine all the horrible things Daniel could do to Julian—every violent possibility my mind can conjure.
I see him waiting in the shadows outside Julian's place, following him home from a gig.
I see fists, blood, worse. My imagination spirals into darker and darker scenarios until I can barely breathe.
And then Colleen's words from earlier echo through my head, sharp and clear as the thunder outside.
"Hey." Julian's fingers trace circles around my belly button. "What's wrong?"
I force a smile into the darkness. "Nothing."
"Liza." He tilts my chin up, searching my face. "Talk to me."
The rain pours. Lightning cracks the sky.
"Just tired," I lie, pressing closer. "Hold me?"
His arms tighten around me, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the images flooding my brain—Julian bleeding, broken, gone.
All because of me.
I wipe down the bar for the third time in twenty minutes. Tuesday afternoons at the pool hall are death—just the hum of the refrigerators and the occasional crack of pool balls from the one table being used by two regulars in the back.
Jenna shifts on her barstool, one hand pressed to her lower back. "God, this one's kicking my ass. I don't remember feeling this awful with Liam."
“It’s because it’s a girl this time." I toss the rag into the sink. "Girls are meaner in the womb."
“You think so, too?” She groans, stretching. "Caine keeps saying that it’ll be a girl, too.”
"So you really don't know?" I grab two glasses and fill them with ice water, sliding one across to her.
"Nope. Caine wants to be surprised." She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Which means I have to be surprised, because he'd never let me find out without him."
I laugh, but it feels thin.
Jenna studies me over the rim of her glass, those big eyes of hers narrowing with concern as she takes a slow sip. She sets the water down carefully, her expression shifting from tired to focused. "Okay, seriously. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Liza."
I busy myself restocking napkins. "I'm fine."
"You look like you haven't slept in days." She leans forward. "How's staying at Reeves’ going?"
"It's fine. He and Kendra are sweet, letting me crash in the guest room." I shrug. "Liam was there this weekend. Kid's getting so big."
"Liz."
I stop moving. Meet her eyes.
"What happened?"
The words tumble out before I can stop them—Daniel cornering me in the lobby, threatening to evict Colleen. The letter that showed up at Reeves' place, all venom and karma and punishment. How I can't shake the feeling he's watching me. How I'm terrified he'll go after Julian next.
Jenna's face goes pale. "Jesus Christ, Liza."
"I know."
"That's not—" She stops herself mid-sentence, her mouth pressing into a hard line as she shakes her head slowly, deliberately, like she's trying to process what I just told her. "That's stalking, Liza. Full-on harassment. You need to go to the police right now and file a report. Like, today."
"And tell them what, exactly? That he sent me a creepy letter?
" I let out a laugh, but it comes out harsh and bitter, scraping against my throat.
"They're going to ask for proof, Jen, and I don't have any.
There's no signature on that thing. No return address.
Nothing that actually ties it back to Daniel in any concrete way that would hold up. "
"Liza, this guy is dangerous."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do." She grabs my hand across the bar. "You need to be careful. Document everything. Keep that letter. Screenshot every weird text."
"I am being careful."
"Are you?" Her eyes bore into mine. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're pretending everything's fine when it's really, really not."
I slide into the booth across from Colleen, the café's espresso machine hissing in the background. She's already got two lattes waiting, foam art wilting on the surface.
"Thanks for meeting me." She pushes one across.
"Of course." I wrap my hands around the cup. "What's going on?"
She leans in, voice dropping. "I have a plan. To get Dylan's phone."
My stomach tightens. "Colleen—"
"There's a party. This Friday. Dylan's going to be there." Her eyes are bright, determined. "Claudia's best friend told me about it. Some house on Dorchester, not far from my place."
"You want me to steal his phone at a party?"
"Not steal. Borrow." She pulls out her phone, scrolling to a photo of a lanky guy with a shaved head and neck tattoos. "That's Dylan. He'll be wasted within an hour, guaranteed. You just need to grab it long enough for your tech guy to clone it or whatever he does."
"Colleen, this is insane."
"Claudia's been missing for over two months." Her voice cracks. "Four months, Liza. The police won't do shit because she had a record. Because she ran away once before when she was fourteen. But she wouldn't just disappear. Not without telling me."
The desperation in her face guts me. Colleen's the one who brought me soup when I had the flu last winter. The one who listened to me cry about my dad at three in the morning. The one who never once judged me for the mess with Daniel.
"I know." I take a breath. "What do you need me to do?"
Relief floods her features. "Just be there. Blend in. Flirt with him, distract him. When he's distracted, steal the phone and get out of there.”
"What if he notices me trying to steal his phone?”
"He won't. Trust me, Dylan's idea of a good time is shotgunning beers and playing beer pong until he passes out." She reaches across the table, gripping my hand. "You're the only person I can ask. I can't do this myself, obviously. But you're young, pretty. You'll fit right in."
I think about Claudia. Fifteen. Troubled, yeah, but still just a kid. Still someone's niece, someone's daughter.
Still someone who deserves to be found.
"Okay." The word comes out before I can stop it. "I'll do it."
Colleen's eyes well up. "Thank you. God, thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." I pull my hand back, anxiety already creeping up my spine. "I haven't actually pulled it off."
"You will." She swipes at her eyes. "I know you will."
I sip my latte, the foam bitter on my tongue. Another bad decision to add to the growing list. But what choice do I have? Colleen's been there for me. And if there's even a chance Dylan knows something about where Claudia is—
I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try.
“We’ll hold on to the phone just long enough for your tech guy to clone it or whatever he does." She pulls out her phone to show me his picture again.
I stare at the screen. "I don't know if I can do this."
"You just need to show up looking hot. Flirt a little. Get him distracted." Colleen's fingers drum against her cup. “Go later in the evening, after eleven. You'll blend in better when people are already drunk."
"What if I mess it up?"
"You won't." She reaches across and squeezes my hand. "Liza, you're smart. You're beautiful. You can handle this."
"I really don't think—"
"You're the only person I trust with this." Her voice cracks. "The police don't care. No one cares. My niece is missing, and this asshole might know where she is."
Guilt floods through me. Colleen's always been there—when I needed a friendly face, when Daniel was suffocating me, when I had nowhere else to turn.
"Okay." The word comes out before I can stop it.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I nod, even though my hands are shaking. "Send me the address."
She forwards it immediately—847 Dorchester Street. Then the photo of Dylan.
"Just get his phone. That's all we need." Colleen's eyes glisten. "Thank you. Seriously.”
I down half my latte in one burning gulp.
"I'll figure something out."
But as I leave the café, Dylan's dead-eyed stare burned into my brain, all I can think of is how spectacularly this is probably going to blow up in my face.
The curling iron singes my fingers, and I curse, dropping it on the vanity. My hands won't stop shaking.
I stare at my reflection. The sparkly bronze eyeshadow catches the light, my lashes curled to perfection. The tight low-waisted jeans hug every curve, and the pink top—cropped just enough to show a sliver of skin—rides up when I lift my arms. I look hot. That's the point.
But beneath all the polish and the careful styling, I can see it—the fear threading through my eyes, the tension pulling at the corners of my mouth despite the gloss I've carefully applied. I look terrified. Absolutely terrified.
My phone buzzes. Julian's name lights up the screen.
"Hey." I wedge it between my shoulder and ear, reaching for the curling iron again.
"Hey, yourself. What are you up to?"
The lie forms on my tongue—just watching Netflix, nothing special—but I can't do it. Not to him.
"I'm getting ready to go to a party."
"A party…" he repeats, his voice slow and measured, each syllable deliberate. "I'm intrigued."
"It's not what you think.. it's not really a party… Well, it is actually…" I wrap another section of hair around the barrel. "Remember Colleen's niece? The one who's missing?"
"Claudia. Yeah."
"We think her boyfriend knows something. Dylan. There's a party tonight, and Colleen needs me to get his phone so my tech guy can clone it." The words tumble out in a rush. "I know it sounds crazy—"
"It sounds dangerous."
"I know." I set the curling iron down, gripping the edge of the vanity. "But she's desperate, Julian. The police don't care. No one's looking for Claudia except Colleen, and she can't do this herself.”
He exhales, long and slow. "You're a good person, you know that?"
My throat tightens. "I don't feel like one."
"You are." His voice softens. "Just—be careful, okay? Keep your phone with you. Text me every half hour so I know you're safe."
"I will."
"And don't drink anything. Seriously. Not even if it looks sealed. You don't know what people put in drinks at parties like that."
A smile tugs at my lips despite everything. "You're worried about me."
"Of course I'm worried about you." His voice carries that gentle warmth I've come to recognize, the kind that wraps around me like a soft blanket. "You're everything to me."
His words shock me, thrill me. I'm left speechless. He means everything to me, too.
His concern is nothing like the suffocating worry Daniel had for me. Not the controlling, possessive kind that made me feel small. This is different. This is caring and love, pure and simple.
"I'll be fine," I tell him. "In and out. Fifteen minutes, tops."
"Call me when you're done?"
"Promise."
I hang up, staring at my reflection one more time.
Then I grab my jacket and head out the door.