Page 31 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

The oak doors slammed shut behind me with a boom that rattled through my bones.

I staggered down the steps, every muscle trembling, my cheek blazing where his hand had cracked across it.

Blood salted my tongue, bitter and metallic, clinging to the back of my throat.

My vision blurred, the world tilting, but I forced myself upright at the bottom of the stairs.

Fists clenched. Shoulders squared. I would not collapse.

Not here. Not where he could still be watching.

But the stones beneath me remembered. The last time he’d thrown me out, I’d been younger, smaller, too stunned to do anything but curl up where I landed.

Back then, I’d carried the humiliation like a brand no one else could see.

Now the bruises were deeper, sharper—and Penny’s scream still rang in my ears.

This wasn’t just my shame anymore. It was hers too.

The street swayed in front of me, chest heaving, breaths shallow and broken. That scream high, desperate was carved into me like a wound that would never close.

My hand shook as I pulled out my phone. Ruby was too far. Hunter—no. Never again. My contact list was nearly empty of the people I needed most, but one name lived in me like a scar: Liam.

I didn’t have his number anymore. New phone. New life. But I knew where he worked.

With trembling fingers, I typed his name into Google. The first hit was his company, Halcyon Global—sleek, soulless, corporate. My vision swam as I scrolled, found the office number, and pressed call before I could lose my nerve.

“Reception, Halcyon Global.” A woman’s voice, bright, professional.

The words ripped out of me, cracked and raw. “I need Liam Carter. Please. It’s—it’s urgent.”

A pause. Shuffling. Then another voice, lower, clipped, familiar. “Isabella?”

The sound of my name in his mouth broke something in me. My knees buckled, and I stumbled back against the stone wall, the phone slick in my palm.

“Liam.” My chest convulsed. “I—I went—I saw him—I tried—Penny—” The words tangled into sobs. My breaths came too fast, shallow, like my lungs had been stitched shut.

“Jesus Christ.” The scrape of a chair, the thud of something dropped. His voice sharpened, steel under panic. “Are you outside? Where are you?”

The world around me blurred—headlights flashing too bright, the city humming like it was alive and cruel.

My pulse thundered, louder than the cars hissing by, louder than the blood rushing in my head.

But his voice cut through it all like a blade, tethering me to something real, something that wasn’t terror.

“I—I don’t—” My vision spotted, black creeping in. My hands clawed at my chest, desperate for air. “I can’t—breathe—”

“Isabella.” His voice cut through the static in my head, low and commanding, the tone I’d always obeyed. “Listen to me. Count. One.”

I choked on the number, gasping.

“Two.”

The world tilted, but I clung to him, to the weight of his voice.

“Three.”

My breath caught, sharp and broken—but it came.

“Stay put,” Liam growled, the kind of vow that brooked no refusal. “Don’t you fucking move. I’m coming to get you.”

“Liam—he—he hit me—” The words spilled out jagged, torn. “He’s making her—married—she doesn’t even know—”

“Enough.” His fury cracked down the line, rough with fear. “You should never have gone alone, Isabella. You know what kind of man he is.”

Tears blurred everything, but I clung to the phone like it was a lifeline. “I had to,” I whispered, stubborn even now. “I had to see her.”

Silence stretched, his breathing harsh in my ear. Then softer, steadier, like a tether: “Stay alive until I get there. That’s all you need to do.”

The line clicked dead.

And I waited.

Headlights carved through the dark, cutting me raw. Tires hissed across wet pavement. A door slammed.

“Isabella!”

His voice tore through me like oxygen. I turned, every part of me shaking, and there he was—Liam. Striding toward me in long, furious steps, his tie askew, his sleeves shoved to his elbows like he hadn’t wasted a second.

The moment his eyes found my face—my cheek raw and swollen, something in him snapped. His jaw locked. His eyes darkened. For one terrifying beat, I thought he’d storm back inside and take on my father with nothing but his bare hands.

Instead, he caught me by the arms, grounding me. “What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was sharp, but it shook.

And I broke. All the steel I’d built crumbled, and the truth ripped out of me. “He hit me again. He—he said Penny’s getting married—she didn’t even know—”

Liam’s chest heaved, fury burning through his features. “Bastard.” The word was venom. Then he yanked me into him, my forehead crashing into his chest, his arms caging me in so tightly the world couldn’t touch me.

I sobbed into him, shaking. “I tried to take her, Liam. He had her dragged away—”

“You’re safe now,” he murmured against my hair, his voice fraying but still steady enough to anchor me. “I’ve got you, Bella. He’ll never touch you again. Not while I’m breathing.”

The promise was reckless, impossible, and I clung to it anyway, fisting his shirt, letting myself collapse fully against him.

He held me tighter, his own breath stuttering against the top of my head. And for the first time all night, the suffocating air eased just enough to let me breathe.

He didn’t let me argue. One arm stayed firm around me as he steered me toward his car, opening the door like I’d shatter if he let go. Maybe I would.

The second I sank into the seat, the engine roared to life, and he tore away from the curb hard enough that the tires screeched. His knuckles were white on the wheel, his jaw tight enough to crack.

Shame prickled under my skin. Liam shouldn’t have had to come for me—not after everything I’d done to him, not after vanishing for months without a word.

Fury tangled with it, hot and raw, directed at the man whose blood I carried and who would never stop trying to break me.

And beneath all of it, like a splinter I couldn’t dig out, Hunter’s ghost pulsed.

His betrayal. His touch. The way he’d once promised I’d never face this alone, only to leave me standing in the wreckage.

The silence in the car wasn’t empty; it was crowded with every ghost I couldn’t escape.

Finally, his voice cut through it, rough and low. “You are never to go back there alone again. Do you hear me, Isabella?”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I had to see her.”

His gaze flicked, fury flashing, before it snapped back to the road. “You nearly got yourself killed. That man your father he doesn’t just hit. He destroys. And I swear to God, if he touches you again—” He broke off, jaw grinding.

“He already did,” I whispered.

Liam’s grip on the wheel twitched, and for a second I thought he’d turn us back around. But he didn’t. He just pressed harder on the accelerator, the city blurring until we pulled into a quiet street I remembered all too well.

His building loomed above us, brick and steel. He killed the engine, then turned to me, his voice softer but still edged with fire. “Until this is done, you stay here. With me. No arguments.”

I nodded, too tired to fight, too broken to pretend I didn’t need him.

Inside, the flat smelled like him—cedar, coffee, ink. He guided me straight to the kitchen, flicking on the light. It buzzed to life, spotlighting every bruise I couldn’t hide. His gaze locked on my cheek, something in him twisting.

“Sit.” His voice was iron.

He hovered for a moment, his hand lifting like he might reach for me, fingers twitching inches from my cheek.

But he stopped himself, jaw tightening, and turned instead to the freezer.

The hesitation said more than words—how badly he wanted to comfort me, how carefully he was holding himself back.

When he returned with the wrapped peas, his touch was steady, but I could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying pressed into that gentleness.

I dropped onto the stool. He pressed the makeshift ice pack to my cheek, eyes never leaving mine. “You shouldn’t have had to face him alone,” he muttered.

“I’ve always faced him alone.”

“Not anymore.” His words were sharp, certain, unshakable.

We stayed there me trembling, him anchoring me with nothing but his presence and for the first time in seven months, I let myself believe I wasn’t entirely alone.

I pressed the peas harder against my cheek. “He said he’s marrying her off.”

Liam stilled. His head snapped up. “What?”

“Penelope.” Her name cracked my voice. “Sixteen next month. He’s lined up some Cartwright boy—eighteen, rich, respectable. A deal. Not a choice. She didn’t even know until he said it in front of me. Like she was nothing.”

Rage poured off him like heat, volcanic and wild. He swore under his breath, pacing once, then braced his hands against the counter, knuckles white. “She’s not nothing. And neither are you. Do you understand me?”

Tears stung, but I nodded.

“You’re staying here. For as long as you need.” His voice was steel. “A night, a week, forever—I don’t care. My spare room’s yours. No more going back there alone. Not ever again.”

Something in me cracked at the certainty, at how he made it sound so simple. Safe.

He checked the clock, then looked back at me, softer now. “You’ve had a long day. Let me run you a bath.”

The words cut like glass. A bath. The last time someone had offered that—Hunter’s voice, Hunter’s hands—it had broken me in two. My skin prickled with old wounds, but I forced a small, brittle smile. “Thank you.”

Liam didn’t push. He just nodded once and disappeared down the hall. Water rushed. Porcelain clinked.

I carried myself there on shaking legs. Steam curled from the tub, lavender salts in the air. A towel lay folded sharp on the counter. Too thoughtful.

“Take your time,” he said from the doorway, voice low, unreadable. Then he left me to the silence.

The second the door shut, I unravelled.

My hands shook as I peeled off my clothes. The bruise on my cheek glared from the mirror, his mark etched into me all over again. My chest heaved as I sank into the water, heat swallowing my cold skin.

And then the sobs came. Silent first, then tearing, splintering.

I pressed my palms to my face, but they tore through anyway.

Seven months of guilt, Hunter’s ghost, Nathan’s grave, Penny’s scream—they all hit at once, drowning me.

A name slipped out of me, broken in the steam.

“Nathan…” Another tore through on its heels.

“Penny…” Then, softer and guilty, “Hunter…” My throat closed around them, like speaking them made the ache sharper.

I curled under the water, knees to chest, salt tears spilling into lavender and foam.

For once, I didn’t try to hold it back. Let it scald me, let it hollow me out because at least the pain meant I still had something worth fighting for.

For the first time since I’d landed in London, I didn’t fight it. I let myself break.

And the water carried it, lavender and steam wrapping around me like something fragile but safe.