Page 90 of Arranged Devotion
The look he gives me makes my core pulse. “You have no idea, love,” he says, his voice whispery soft. “We need to talk.”
I wait, not liking this at all. Something feels supremely wrong. “What did you do last night, Liam?”
I know better than to ask, but the way his mouth flinches makes me sure I’m about to hear something terrible.
“I’m going to tell you a truth. You’re not going to like it, but believe me, I wouldn’t be saying this if it weren’t important.”
“Is that why you didn’t come home yesterday? And why you’re dressed like you own at least two trucks and several assault rifles?”
He cradles his mug wearily. “I met with Kieren last night.”
My body freezes. It’s bizarre because my mind’s still working. I can see myself from a distance, like I’m floating at the ceiling: I’m trapped, frozen like an animal fearing for its life. I force myself to talk like I’m working a marionette’s strings.
“Why did you meet with Kieren?”
“I lured him to a bar, punched him in the mouth a few times, shot him in the hand, and threatened to kill him.”
I knock over my coffee when I jolt up straight. Cursing, I blot it with napkins, before a nonplussed Hal appears with a rag to get the remainder. “No worries, no worries, happens all the time, this one has that effect on people…”
When she’s gone, I gather myself. “I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“I said I wouldn’t kill him, but I needed him to answer a question. Do you know what I asked?”
I close my eyes. I don’t want to know. I feel pieces swirling around me, moments that felt strange at the time but I was able to rationalize away. Little inconsistencies I’ve been able to force together into a pleasing shape, a very pretty picture, ultimately a fabrication, a stupid lie to keep myself happy. I’ve been doing it all my life, to some degree, figuring out calming tall tales to explain away all the awful shit I’ve seen and been through.
“You asked him how he stole from my father.”
“That’s right.” He doesn’t sound surprised that I knew. My stomach is sick. I might barf pancake all over the table. “He told me someone helped him. Regan, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m telling you first, before anyone else, because you need to know.”
My mouth falls open, heart hammering like a power drill. My fingernails dig into the table. “Who was it? Tell me, Liam.”
“I’m sorry. It was Luke.”
I sit back against the booth, fists banging against the table. A nice older lady sitting nearby looks over, wrinkled face concerned. It takes a lot of effort not to groan in rage as I shake my head, willing this to go away.
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t do that, Regan. I’m sorry, I wish this weren’t true?—“
“Then Kieren was lying. Luke wouldn’t do that. We’re his family, he wouldn’t steal from his own father and give that information over to his enemies. That makes no sense. Why would he?—“
“I didn’t get into the motives, but he wasn’t lying.”
“You’re wrong.” I shove myself from the booth, trembling, and I watch Liam change. I see it happen, the way he hardens himself, his soft worry bleeding out and leaving behind a cold, ugly husk.
His jaw ticks. “I know it’s hard and I know it hurts, but you have to face reality, Regan. Your brother betrayed you. I’m coming to you first because?—“
“I don’t care why!” I’m talking too loud. Now half the diner is watching. Hal’s drifting closer, I think to tell us to shut the fuck up, but I don’t care. I’m too hurt, too broken, and none of this makes sense.
My life was perfect, I had Kieren, the business, my brother, it was all perfect, perfect and now?—
Now there’s Liam, destroying it.
“You have to face this,” he says sharply. “Come on, you’re strong. You can handle it. Whatever’s going to happen, I came to you first. We can figure it out, we can do it together?—“
“I don’t want to do anything with you, Liam. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Regan—“
