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Chapter 24
Liberty lay in bed, wishing for the relief of sleep. In the past year, sleep had been the one grace that God had given her. Most of the time, she would go to work, come home, close her eyes, and go right to sleep. It was part of the reason she was so thin: she would sleep all the way until the next morning, then get up and go to work and do it all over again. She’d barely eaten because she had been so tired. It had been depressing, but it was a saving grace.
She sat up, frustrated. Sleep was not coming, and all she could do was remember the way Trent had looked at her when he’d told her she was making a mistake by not having him stay. Anger surfaced as she thought of how she’d let Mr. Banks get to her. She realized she had been in shock earlier. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Then Shane had turned up and the whole kissing thing. What in the world was going on in her life?
She turned on her side and grabbed her phone, which was plugged in on the side table. There was a missed text from Trent. He’d attached the picture Cheryse had taken of them at the party. I’m sorry for everything tonight.
She sat up, tears filling her eyes. No. She didn’t want him to apologize. It hadn’t been his fault. Her eyes roved up to the photos of them that she’d taken at the shooting range and at the party. Pain stabbed into her chest. They looked happy. She smiled sadly to herself, thinking that the G.I. Joe Ken doll cleaned up nice. She wanted to text him and tease him, but she’d been so weird earlier.
He was only trying to protect her.
Liberty stood and grabbed a sweater that lay on the chair next to her bed. Once she’d slipped it over her head, she sat on the chair and snuggled into a ball by tucking her legs beneath her. She hated being afraid.
Her eyes drifted toward the pictures. When she was next to Trent, she felt complete—like she was right where she belonged. That thought hit her like a ton of bricks. She belonged with him. It didn’t matter where she was in the world. She was safe with him. She thought of the scripture on the cross stitch. He was like a fortress for her.
Butterflies churned in her stomach, and she felt emotion in the back of her throat. She sat up and wiped at the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. Her grandmother didn’t care if she kept the house or sold the house; her grandmother just cared about her. She wanted Liberty to be happy no matter where she was. And all those times she had told Liberty that she didn’t look happy with Will, that had been her way of saying the guy was an idiot.
As Liberty stared at the picture of her and Trent at the gun range, she spotted a detail they’d missed: the address on the building behind them. 1911 Court Drive. She sat up straight, remembering where she’d heard that number before. “1911. 1911.” She laughed, thinking that Trent would be teasing her now about repeating those numbers.
She quickly got dressed. It was almost three in the morning as she rushed out of the house. She didn’t want to text him; she wanted to tell him in person. And she wanted to figure this out together.
