Page 21

Liam

“Liam.”

He woke to the sound of his name in Jonah’s mouth. Liam hummed, rolling his face into the pillow—his own, he realized, and not the generic fluff from a hotel. Recognition trickled in, warming him with memories of the preceding hours: Jonah in his bed, the taste of his mouth and the warmth from his hands as they soaked up his last few moments of freedom—

“Liam, please. ”

His eyes sprang open, alertness chasing away the last remnants of sleep. Liam’s stomach bottomed out at the sunlight reflected off the wall.

They had overslept.

No. No.

He sat up, searching out Jonah, who stood from a crouch by the bed .

“Your phone died.” Jonah scraped his fingers over his arms, leaving pink tracks in their wake. “It must have gotten unplugged somehow. I don’t know, but it died, and the alarm didn’t go off, and I– Fuck . I have to go. I need to get back right now. ”

“Shit.” Liam kicked off the blankets, rolling ungracefully to his feet. “Shit, Jonah, I—I’m so sorry.”

Jonah pressed his fist against his mouth, as if containing a scream. He shook his head. Liam risked a glance at the clock on the wall. Jonah was supposed to be outside of the hotel in Chicago seven minutes ago.

“Fuck,” he breathed, trying to get a hold on his panic. “Okay. Okay. I’ll get you back, okay?” He knew that wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t help repeating, “I’ll get you back there.”

He scrambled to pull himself together in record time, grabbing for the first pair of shoes he laid eyes on, forgoing socks and a jacket entirely.

Jonah stood against the wall, out of the way, chewing his fingernails. Liam got the sense that he was suppressing the urge to ask him to hurry. There was a caginess to him that Liam hadn’t seen since their earliest days together, his body shrunken in on itself as if he wanted to disappear. Still draped in Liam’s oversized sweatshirt, it looked like he might do just that.

“Come on,” Liam said, grabbing his car keys off the dresser. “We can sneak out the back. ”

Their only mercy was that they were able to get out and lock up without crossing paths with Liam’s parents. If there was ever a time to avoid introductions, it was now.

His hands were shaking when they got to the car. He fumbled the keys twice, then went several rounds of hitting the automatic locks at the same time Jonah tried to open the door. Liam wanted to bash his own head against the window.

He slapped the radio switch as they peeled out of the driveway, killing the cheerful hum of Christmas music that had provided such a calming backdrop the night before.

Liam felt like he had woken to a nightmare.

They were silent for most of the drive. He could feel Jonah’s gaze flicking back to the GPS tracker every few seconds, willing Liam to go faster. Liam kept vigilant watch on the rearview mirror, half expecting a flare of police lights to sneak up behind them at any moment, but still he pushed the acceleration.

The tension was like a tangible fume in the air, thick and unstable. He was sure that if he were to light a match, they would have been blown to pieces.

Jonah curled himself against the passenger door, one arm wound tightly over his stomach while the other supported his head on the window. Liam felt every inch of his restlessness, his fear. It was particularly disquieting after seeing such a vastly different side of Jonah the night before.

For nearly an hour, Liam had the privilege of watching Jonah open up to him, watching the tension he always carried in his body melt away bit by bit, cheeks flushed and smiling and loose as he held Liam close and let himself be held in return.

And now, this.

Surely Jonah would hate him now, and Liam would deserve it. He had asked a lot of him, trusting Liam to come away from the city and into his home, and he had let him down. More importantly, Jonah would be in trouble when he got back—whatever that might entail—and Liam was the one responsible.

The city came into view like a tsunami on the horizon, tall and threatening. Panic seized Liam’s chest as he took the appropriate lane. What would happen from here? Would Jonah show up to their next visit sporting new bruises, as he had before? Would it be worse this time?

Would he even want to see Liam again?

Would he be allowed to?

The closer they got to their hotel, the more daunting the possibilities grew in his head. He was spiraling out of control, keenly aware with each passing second that his time was running out. In just a few minutes, he would have to watch Jonah climb out of his car and walk back into the arms of his abuser, knowing that, intentionally or not, he had set him up to be hurt.

“Don’t go back today.” The words tumbled out of him before he could stop himself.

Jonah looked over at him for the first time since they got in the car. “What? ”

“Don’t go back to him.” Liam’s voice was on the edge of hysteria. “Stay with me, let me drive you somewhere. Anywhere. We can tell someone. We can do something. Anything. Please, just don’t make me take you back to him.”

“Liam.” His voice was unexpectedly hard, but Liam pushed onward, undeterred.

“Jonah, look at you.” He waved his hand in a wild gesture toward where he was shaking apart in the passenger seat. “How can I let you out of my car right now knowing what you’re going back to?”

“‘Let me?’”

Liam winced. “You know what I mean.”

Jonah was quiet for a moment, and Liam experienced a wild surge of hope that maybe he was considering his words. When he spoke again, the rawness in his voice shattered that dream on impact.

“Did you listen to a word I told you last night?” Jonah asked. “I thought you understood now. I trusted you to understand. I can’t run from this.”

They were only blocks away from the hotel now.

“There has to be some way,” he pleaded.

There was an agitated rustle of movement in the passenger seat. “Let me out here,” Jonah said. “I can walk. I don’t want him to see you.”

“Jonah, please.”

“Liam, let me out! ”

He hit the brakes, cars honking past him as he swerved into an empty fire lane. There was a fleeting moment of dead silence.

“I’m so sorry,” Liam whispered. He was surprised to feel a hand on his wrist a moment later, squeezing tight.

“It’s not your fault,” Jonah said, then, when Liam couldn’t immediately meet his eyes, he squeezed harder, just approaching the edge of pain. “Hey. Look at me.” Liam did, his tears spilling over. “This was not your fault.”

The words sounded too much like goodbye to be of any comfort.

“Will you—” Liam broke off in a panic when Jonah released his arm. “Jonah, will you be okay?”

There was no hesitation. “I’ll be fine.”

“Will I see you again?”

Jonah pulled his sweatshirt—the one Liam had become so accustomed to seeing on him—over his head, dropping it on the console between them. He opened his mouth to reply, then reached for the door instead.

“I have to go,” he said, climbing out onto the sidewalk. “I’m sorry.”

The door slammed shut before Liam could say another word.

For a few stunned moments, it was all he could do to watch as Jonah made his way down the block, hands swiping furiously at his exposed arms. Liam reached over and touched the sweatshirt, still warm from Jonah’s skin. When he picked it up, bringing the fabric close to his chest, a papery rustle drew his eyes to the passenger seat. There, having fallen from the pocket, was a crumpled wad of cash.

Jonah’s money.

Liam nearly ripped the phone charger out of its port in his haste to get out of the car, breaking into a run. “Jonah!” he called, but he was too far ahead to hear him. He picked up the pace.

He was just catching up as Jonah turned a corner, disappearing from view. “Jonah,” he repeated as he rounded after him, but he skidded to a stop as soon as he cleared the corner.

Jonah had stopped, too, just a few feet in front of a tall man in a leather jacket, who was halfway out of his car. He towered over them both as he stood, looking down at Jonah with dark eyes and a mean, flat line of a mouth.

Liam’s body went numb, plastering him to the sidewalk. So this was him, he thought.

They both wheeled on Liam at the same time. It was Jonah’s widened eyes that made him realize his mistake, and his rage hardened to ice-cold dread.

He’d used the wrong name.

Again.

Liam took a step closer, but as he did, the man took hold of Jonah’s arm and yanked him toward the car.

“Do we have a problem, kid?” the man said to Liam. They were close enough now that he kept his voice low. The streets were relatively empty this early on a Saturday morning, so there was no one around to see the flash of black metal tucked into his waistband as he drew back the hem of his jacket.

Liam froze. His eyes moved to Jonah, who was silently pleading with him from behind the man’s shoulder. There was already a patch of red blossoming on his upper arm from the way he had been handled. Liam wanted to scream.

“It’s my fault he was late,” he whispered. “Completely my fault.”

The man stared at him, unmoving. Behind him, Jonah shook his head, and Liam wasn’t sure if it was in disagreement with his assertion of fault or if he was begging Liam to stop making things worse.

“Leo, get in the car,” the man said without looking away from Liam. Jonah didn’t hesitate to comply, closing himself into the backseat without so much as a glance back at Liam. The man stepped into Liam’s space. “There a reason you’re following him?”

“I—” Liam began, but the man snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. I asked you a question.”

Liam’s eyes snapped back to his. He couldn’t see Jonah through the tinted window of the backseat anyway. “I didn’t— I wasn’t...” It was hard to speak in the face of someone he both hated and feared in equal measure. “I forgot to give him this.” He held out the wad of cash, crushed and damp with sweat from where he was squeezing it tightly in his palm .

The man snatched the money from his hand, making him flinch, and then making him hate himself for flinching. He counted out the bills in front of Liam and tucked them into his jacket. When he reached for something else in his pocket, Liam froze, sure that he was going for the gun, but he pulled out his phone instead. A second later, he flashed a headless photo of Liam at him—the picture from his profile.

“This is you?” he asked.

Unsure if that was rhetorical, Liam nodded. Then he watched in horror as he tapped the red button at the bottom of the screen, effectively blocking Liam’s only line of access to Jonah.

“I don’t know what you think this is,” he said. “But it’s over. Don’t try to contact him again.”

Before Liam could begin to muster a response, an objection, a plea, the man turned away from him and rounded to the driver’s side door. He could do nothing but watch as the car pulled away, leaving Liam standing in the cold.