Page 152 of Dead Vengeance

But he’s been so steadfast and seemed so keen to help me.

“No, he’s not going to hurt you,” he answers vaguely. “I’m very sure of that.”

“How can you know?” I search his face, sidelong, and he, again, keeps his eyes on the road. Very purposefully, it feels like.

I’ve asked him twice already what he stayed back to talk to Marsden about, and both times he’s dodged it with some weird excuse about ‘just making sure’ he was going to call.

There’s something up, but I can’t put my finger on it. What can have happened in that room that’s set him so quiet and thoughtful? Did Marsden say something about me? Convince him Jem’s really that awful? And that I, by association, am that awful?

When he pulls up a little way from my door, in the usual spot, I ask him to drive on. Drive right in front of my building this time.

“This is where I actually live,” I explain when he stops. “I was… embarrassed to tell you before.”

I’m still embarrassed now. He’s told me how much trouble he had holding down jobs in the past, so I know, logically, he must have struggled financially too. But I can’t help but think of that huge farmhouse, the nice clothes he pulled on before we left, as if everything he owns must be expensive, this car, even if I know how he got it… It all feels like there’s a gap between us, like once he finds out the truth, that will be it for me. All over.

Maybe that’s why I’ve brought him here. Maybe I’m trying to push him to some kind of breaking point. Strip away any illusions he might have had about who I am so I don’t feel like I’m trapping him somehow.

“I was going to ask…” I start, ten times more anxious now than when the thought popped into my head half an hour ago. “My mother’s working a late shift tonight. And she’s not home. And I-I know you need to get back home. At some point. And I don’t want to keep you. But Gerald gave me another bonus—”

“Did he?” He looks so surprised. So pleased.

“Yeah, he did.” I laugh, perhaps a little nervously. “Before we found out he’s probably evil.” Then I frown. And he frowns. “But anyway, I have it, and maybe… Do you want to come in for dinner or something? Just some delivery? We could get… a pizza? And just…”

I was hoping he’d cut me off here. Jump in with an enthusiastic yes. But instead, he scans the clock on the dashboard. It is getting on, to be fair.

“You don’t have to.”

“I really want to.” The way his lips curve down suggests otherwise.

“It’s okay.”

“I’d love to. I just. Um. I need to get back. To my ghosts.”

Heat floods my face. I really wish he couldn’t see it. “Oh, okay. Sorry.”

He snaps my hand up the second I try to leave. “Liam… There’s nothing I’d rather do more than spend the evening with you. It’s just… um…”

Why is he being like this? A few hours ago we were great.

The lines heavying his brow don’t lift. If anything, they deepen when he asks, “Is it okay if I just come in for an hour? Or two?”

My heart actually jumps. I think I’m officially pathetic. “Yeah. Of course.”

I pull the door open and escape as quickly as possible, as if delaying my exit might give him time to rethink his decision. Maybe that’s why I also keep a few steps ahead of him all the way in. Up the smelly and stained stairs, along the landing beneath broken fluorescent light casings full of dead insects. I fumble the keys at the door, but I eventually manage to unlock both deadbolts then step inside.

It’s so small. There’s the one living area, no dining area, we just eat at the coffee table. The small kitchen is attached. Then my bedroom, my mum’s bedroom, and the tiniest bathroom in history.

It’s tidy. I made it nice before I left this morning. Not to bring Archer over, just so my mum would have a better day. She cleans enough as it is.

“So we can get pizza,” I suggest, then turn back, and his lips land on mine. His arms come around me, and I absolutely melt. Melt straight into him. I needed this kiss so badly. I’ve needed it for hours now. More than anything, I needed to know he still feels the same.

He breaks the kiss, then whispers breathlessly, “I adore you, Liam.”

“Adore?” The word falls out of me on a tremor. A beautiful word. A word that gets used in the old ITV Regency dramas my mum still puts on her ancient DVD player. A word that’s beautiful and romantic. A word I thought was beyond me. Out of my reach forever. Especially this evening.

That single word pushes me over the edge. I drop my forehead to his chest, sink into him, lose myself in the kiss that falls on my hair. “You don’t know what it’s meant to me, these last few days. Meeting you.”

“I think I do,” he whispers.