Chapter Nine
Liv
Spending an entire day with Hayes, on purpose, feels like a mistake even though I know the reasoning is sensical.
Someone is stalking me, that’s why he is doing this. That’s all.
But I still can’t erase the way he looked at me yesterday morning when I did my cold plunge. The way his eyes burned a path across my skin.
It was a heat that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I shove my folder of paperwork and my laptop into my briefcase as hard as I can, pushing my thoughts away.
It’s 7:28, he should be here, and I wish the anticipation of that was simply about being on time to work, but I meant what I said. I’m not waiting on him.
I slip on the same heels from the other night that he placed by the door for me and step into the cool morning air.
“Good morning,” he startles me, and I nearly drop my briefcase. He’s wearing a black suit with a black dress shirt. No tie.
He’s always been handsome, but this is something else entirely. His aura is overwhelming, his charm is palpable.
He’s no pretty boy; he’s a killer in a suit.
“I didn’t know you were here.” I clear my throat, stepping past him.
“I was going to knock at 7:29. You’re ahead of schedule.”
That makes me roll my eyes. “Let’s go–” I stop at the edge of the porch. Parked next to my silver Jaguar is a black SUV.
“Whose car is that?” It’s nice, with tented windows and shiny wheels.
“Mine.” He opens the passenger door for me, but I don’t move.
“Where did you get this?”
He looks at me in confusion.
“You didn’t steal it, did you?”
“Jesus Christ. Get in the car, Liv.”
I climb in, needing the grab handle to hoist myself up into the lifted vehicle because of my pencil skirt. The interior is just as luxurious, and it smells brand new.
“How did you afford this?”
“Did you assume that I’ve been unemployed all this time?”
“Well, no, I guess not, but I didn’t think the sanctuary paid that well.”
“So do you think I stole it? Or that I came about the funds illegally?” He asks in exasperation.
“I’m sorry, I guess I don’t know what to think. I don’t know anything about who you are, now.”
He sighs, throwing me slack like he always does.
“When you’re first hired at the sanctuary, the pay does suck.
But that’s because you get free housing and food.
The little bit of money you save can get you started, and for most guys, that’s enough.
That’s all they need, so they move on. I stuck around, and the pay got better as my responsibilities increased, but I didn’t rely on it.
“I learned different trades, skills, and taught myself how to invest. I don’t have lawyer money,” he glances at me, “but I’m doing okay for myself.”
“I’m glad,” I whisper, only because I can’t get my throat to work. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy.
He jerks his head as if nodding is even too much to express his response. Silence falls over us, and I can’t stop my mind from wandering.
He was in prison for six years.
He’s been out for five…
“Were you ever going to reach out to me?”
“What?” He asks, lost in his thoughts also.
“If we didn’t run into each other at the sanctuary… Would you have ever tried to find me?”
Each rotation of the tires against the pavement grates my eardrums as the deafening pause grows longer. Louder.
Each breath that fills my lungs becomes painful until I can’t stand it.
“So, that’s a no,” I laugh humorlessly.
“It’s not a no,” he argues.
“Then what is it?!” I don’t know why I let my temper flare or why I keep beating the same dead horse. We were not meant to cross paths again, and it’s becoming clear.
“I don’t know, Liv.” His hand grips the top of the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he utters softly this time, tortured by the words.
“I’ll talk to Jackson today to see if he can spare any deputies. I wouldn’t want to put you through more torture.” I throw the door open as soon as he’s parked outside the county building and slam it shut behind me.
Part of me expects him to stay behind, but the bigger part of me isn’t surprised when I feel him trailing behind me.
I don’t have to look to know he’s there. I can sense him.
I always could.
* * *
13 years ago…
“If you keep walking ten feet behind me, everyone will think you’re following me,” I yell into the air as I walk home from the bus.
“I’m not following you,” Hayes responds, jogging to close the gap. “You left school without me.”
“No, you missed the bus. That’s not the same thing. Besides, you were too busy talking to Valerie.”
His charming smile spreads across his face, and I have to look away. It’s like the sun, except if you stare it’ll scramble your good senses.
“She wants me to take her to prom.”
“Her and every other girl in school,” I mumble.
“Jealous?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I scoff.
“No, I’m not allowed to go to prom until I’m a senior.” Not that anyone asked me to go anyway.
“Don’t worry, it isn’t as cool as everyone makes it seem.”
“You’ve never even been to a school dance.”
“That’s not true. I snuck into homecoming once.” He winks and jumps onto the dilapidated playground that has turned into our hangout spot, lounging at the top of the slide as if it’s his personal hammock.
“How do you do that? Break the rules. Don’t they mean something to you?”
“Most rules don’t mean much to me at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t matter. At the end of the day, only certain things change the course of your life. Abiding by certain things matters… Keeping people safe, doing what’s right even if it feels wrong. I don’t know, morals mean more than rules.”
“You get in fights all the time. How is that keeping people safe?”
“I don’t hit anyone who doesn’t deserve it, Liv.”
“Did they teach you that in karate?” I tease. I asked him about the sweatshirt he gave me the first day we met, and he told me that he earned a black belt by the time he was fifteen.
He stopped going shortly after that, but refused to tell me why.
“Something like that.” He looks up at the clouds as raindrops scatter down around us.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before I can throw my backpack over my shoulder, he slides down the slide and grabs it from me.
“Come to my house for dinner.”
“Oh. Are you sure?” He’s never invited me to his house. But to be fair, I’ve never invited him to mine either.
“My dad has a late shift at work. My mom always makes my favorite.” He backpeddles towards his trailer, holding my backpack hostage, forcing me to follow, but truthfully, he pulls me easily like a magnet.
“Mom,” he announces as he enters the door. “Liv is coming for dinner.”
“Hi, Mrs. Hayes.” I’ve come across her a time or two when she’s called Hayes in for dinner after we’d been sitting on the playground all afternoon.
She’s always been kind, but I’ve also noticed the deep sadness that weighs down her shoulders. Today, she smiles, and a small part of it touches her eyes, and I watch as Hayes mirrors it.
He loves his mom. It makes him softer, and it’s the sweetest thing ever.
We end up doing our homework in the kitchen while his mom cooks, which is mostly me doing my homework while Hayes talks to us. He’s incredibly intelligent, but no one gets to see it.
He does well on tests when he bothers to show up for class, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not enough. He’ll graduate next month by the skin of his teeth.
“Dinner is ready.” Mrs. Hayes serves us beef enchiladas, and they’re plated with love, garnished prettily on ceramic white plates that have finely painted blue flowers around the edge.
They’re not fine china, but they are definitely special, and I start to ask about them when the front door blows open, hitting the wall with a bang.
Hayes jumps from his seat as his dad walks through carrying a 12-pack of beer.
“What the hell is that smell?”
“Dinner,” Mrs. Hayes says hurriedly, grabbing the case from him and taking it to the fridge.
“Smells like shit,” he grumbles, kicking off his boots. He’s still wearing his police uniform. He’s a veteran at the local department, although you’d never be able to tell from his demeanor.
“I thought you were working late,” Hayes says through gritted teeth.
“A mailbox ran out in front of me and wrecked the front of my cruiser. They let me leave to heal up before my shift tomorrow,” he chuckles, gruffly.
“Wonder why,” Hayes scoffs, sneering at the beer his mom hands him.
“You got something you want to say in front of your girlfriend, boy?”
“No.”
“What was that?”
“No. Sir,” he grinds out.
He hates that word. He doesn’t like it when teachers push the respect rule, either, but I thought he just couldn’t stand authority.
I’m still gripping my fork in my hand, and I haven’t been able to move. I’m not used to being around angry men. My stepdad is a stoner. He hardly strings sentences together, and I never have to worry about him yelling at my mom or me.
“I’m sorry, Liv. You’d better go.” Hayes peels the fork from my hand, noticing my rigid posture.
“You embarrassed of me, boy? Nah, you just don’t want your girlfriend around a real man.” He barks a laugh, and I feel Jensen go from a simmer to a boil.
“Of course, I’m fucking embarrassed,” he yells, throwing the fork that he took from me across the room so hard it dents the wall before clattering to the carpet.
“What did you say?” His father launches up from his recliner and yanks Hayes’s head back, gripping his hair in his meaty palm.
Mrs. Hayes must’ve expected it because she’s lifting me from my chair and out of the way before I get shoved in the commotion.
“Liv, go,” Jensen grumbles under his breath, staring into his father’s bloodshot eyes.
I can’t make my feet move. His mom’s hands under my arms try to shove me towards the door, but she’s a small woman, and I’m a foot taller than she is.
I can’t stop looking at my only friend’s face. The anger and disgust he has aimed directly at the man in front of him.
And the strength he has to be able to put up with it.
“Liv! GO!” He yells, spurring me out the door.
His mom slams it shut behind me, leaving me slumped against the porch railing to listen to the fight ensue.
“You’re a worthless, no good, son of a bitch,” his dad yells. The next thing I hear is a loud crash as dishes shatter.
I start running, and I don’t stop until I’m safely home and behind my bedroom door, letting the anguish rip through me.