Because of Liam

by Erica Alexander

  I have no idea what her handwriting looks like and just hand-printed words I thought would sound like River. I hope Skye will take the hint and not knock or try to get into the bedroom. When I got back in the bed with her, I pulled her tired body into mine and she curled against me and let out a contented moan. I almost woke her up again. Almost, but she needs rest, and she has to be sore from all the sex we had.

  I pull the covers over us and spoon with her. I realize I’m thinking of this as making love and not sex or fucking. There’s a difference. Most people just have sex, some get to make love. I have always enjoyed a good fuck, but sex was basically something I did to scratch an itch.

  I have never, until this moment, thought of it as making love. And it had been so good, so fucking good, I know I’ll never forget her taste, her smell, and the images in my mind. And I don’t want to.

  I kiss her head and make myself more comfortable around her and then close my eyes and allow myself to fall sleep.

  The smell of coffee wakes me up and I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since last night, well, at least nothing with calories, and I guess based on the amount of light coming into the room it has to be past noon. I nuzzle River’s hair and inhale her spicy scent. She is fast asleep still and I watch her, unguarded. I take in her peaceful face as she sleeps. Her lips are swollen still from our kisses, her lashes are long and naturally curved. The swell of her breasts rise and fall steadily with each breath. I want her again. I’ll never get enough of this girl, but I’m not sure of what we have here. What does she want? Is this just a hookup for her? Friends with benefits? I want more than that, but I’m not sure how to make it clear. I don’t want to scare her off. There is so much happening. We still have to figure the issue with Jon. Hell, if both River and Logan hadn’t made me promise I wouldn’t kill the bastard, he’d be dead by now.

  I shake those thoughts away. I don’t want to think of that asshole while I’m here with River. I want to enjoy this moment and go back to watching her, and then my lips find the curve of her shoulder and kiss all the exposed skin I can find. Her back, her neck, her shoulder with barely there kisses.

  She whimpers and shifts a little and her ass pushes into me.

  “Hmm, you’re poking me, Liam,” she murmurs, and her sleepy voice sounds like an invitation to me, but I hold back.

  She turns in my arms and her head rests on my chest. “What time is it?”

  I look back over my shoulder at the alarm clock. “One-eleven.”

  “Hmm, ones follow me everywhere. I’m always seeing ones. Mom says it’s a message from angels.”

  “It could be, but the only angel I see here is you.”

  She giggles. “Don’t tell me you’re also a poet, Liam.”

  “Sure, I am. Would you like to hear one of my poems?”

  She looks at me now, her eyes bright and a smile on her lips. “Let’s hear it.”

  I clear my throat as if I’m about to make an important announcement.

  “Roses are red. Violets are blue. I love your pussy and I want inside of you.”

  She’s laughing so hard; her whole body is shaking. “You’re a terrible poet.”

  “What? You think you can do better?”

  “Of course!”

  “Let’s hear it.” I toss her words back to her.

  “Roses are red. Violets are blue. Your cock is beautiful, can I please suck you?”

  I groan and she is getting a big kick out of it. “You’re killing me.”

  “Why? You don’t like my poem?” She fake pouts.

  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. If there’s an award for poets, you should get it. Heck, I will buy you a trophy myself.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  My hands are shaking and I feel cold despite the early Texas heat. There’s a car in the driveway. I assume it’s Hannah’s husband’s.

  I glance at the closed door again and for a moment, I don’t know if I can do this. River laces her fingers with mine and squeezes. She nods at me. A silent confirmation that I can do it. I watch my free hand rise in slow motion and my finger touches the doorbell. It’s shaking so much, I miss the first try. River’s hand squeezes mine again. Tears burn my eyes, but I hold them in.

  The door opens, and the air trapped in my lungs gets expelled all at once. I suck in another breath. The man on the other side of the door is Michael Russo. I recognize him from the many pictures Hannah showed me and from the few times I saw him while she talked to him via Skype.

  His eyes fill with water the moment he recognizes me. I didn’t know what would happen but being pulled against his chest in a hug was not it. I expected him to be angry with me. To punch me. To hate me for not saving his wife, but I never expected this.

  River lets go of my hand. And my arms wrap around him. This man I never met before but feel like I know because Hannah told me so much about him. Sweethearts from the first day of high school, she told me. They were together since they were both fourteen. Two people who were meant to be, broken apart by a stupid tragedy.

  In this moment, as we hold each other, there’s so much shared. The pain, the love, and also the guilt. Hannah told me many times if anything happened to her, her husband would never forgive himself for not keeping her from going to Afghanistan. Her reason to go, a tragedy in itself. She lost her only brother to an IED. The closest unit with a medic was a hundred miles away. She was a doctor and she couldn’t save her brother because she was nowhere near him. Hannah wanted to make a difference, and she enlisted. Just one tour, she said. But saving lives is addictive and one tour turned into three. It was supposed to be her last. And it was, just not in the way she imagined it would be.

  When he pulls away, both our faces are awash in tears and there’s no shame in it. I can hear River sniffling beside me and I know she’s crying as well.

  “Dad?”

  A voice comes from inside the house and when he steps aside, I can see a young girl coming down the stairs. She stops mid-step, and it’s like seeing a ghost. She looks exactly like her mother. A younger version of Hannah, a face not marred by the sights of war, and I imagine this is what Hannah looked like before she enlisted. I can see the confusion in her light blue eyes, the same color as her mother’s. There’s sadness in them but also hope.

  “Dad?” Her voice is hesitant now. It cracks on the one syllable word.

  “Sweetheart, this is Liam. He was your mother’s best friend in the marines.”

  One of her hands covers her mouth as the other clasps her chest. Tears swim in her eyes. And I don’t know if I can do this. River must anticipate what’s going through my head because her hand touches my back, so softly it’s barely a touch. Just a reminder that she’s here with me. For me. Michael steps back into the house, a silent invitation for us to follow. We do.

  The entryway is painted in a warm creamy yellow color. I know Hannah painted it herself because she told me. We talked a lot during the many hours we worked together. There are pictures on the walls, mostly of her daughter but a few of she and Michael as well. He waits for me by the opening that leads into their living room. This room too is warm and inviting. Light-colored furniture, splashes of red in pillows, and a blanket over one end of a lazy chair. It makes me want to smile. I know Hannah hated that chair, but it’s her husband’s favorite.

  He gestures for us to sit and we do. River’s beside me. He’s on his favorite chair, his daughter perched on the side of it.

  The silence that follows is heavy with unsaid words but not uncomfortable. There’s closeness in this moment, brought by our shared love for the same person. Theirs, the love of a husband and of a daughter, and mine, the love of a friend. He speaks first.

  “I hoped you’d come.”

  “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  He shakes his head in denial of my apology. “You can’t put a timer on these things. You came when the moment was right. I’m glad you made your way here.”

  “I wish—” Words vanish
. I don’t know how to convey to him and his daughter how sorry I am.

  “I want to thank you,” he goes on as if I hadn’t tried to speak, tried to apologize again.

  “They told me what happened. They told me about the ambush and how you tried to save my Hannah. How you tried to drag her to safety and shielded her with your body. They told me about the shrapnel you took and the explosion. They told me that…” His voice trembles. He clears his throat. “They told me that even after you blacked out, you had your arms and hands so tightly wrapped around her, trying to protect her still, that it took two men to pry your fingers from her and while you were in and out of consciousness, all you kept saying was, ‘Save Hannah, need to save Hannah,’ and for that I’m grateful.

  “You tried, and she didn’t die alone. You had her. And she loved you like a son. If I couldn’t be there to spend her last breath with her, I’m grateful you were. I know she would have wanted that.”

  Tears prick at my eyes. I didn’t know this. I didn’t know what happened when I blacked out. No one told me.

  “Sir, she saved me. But I failed to save her. If I hadn’t run to get to her, the explosion that followed would have killed me. I didn’t save her, but she saved me.”

  He nods in understanding. “We could spend hours, days talking about guilt. I feel that if I had asked her to stay, not to go back, she would be here now but then you might have died. I could have prevented her leaving, but I know this is something she had to do. Her brother was the only family she had left. They were very close. She felt the need to do something in honor of his memory. She did what she thought was best. We all did. We can’t blame ourselves for it.”

  We talk for a couple of hours more. The rest of the conversation lighter, humorous even as we trade funny stories about Hannah and how caring and loving she was and how she loved practical jokes and played tricks on me all the time. I don’t know if Michael knows what Hannah did for me when I was a green pup still, but I suspect he does.

  Before we say our goodbyes, I ask River for the package and she gets it out of her bag. I hand him the package, the same as it was handed to me. Inside the plastic bag still. He gives it to his daughter, and she opens it, looking through the envelopes inside and finding the small box too. She looks at her father then and shows him one of the envelopes. He takes it from her and hands it to me. My name is on it. Chills run down my spine. I never opened that bag. I had no idea it was there. Michael can see the surprise on my face.

  He smiles. “I guess Hannah played one last trick on you.”

  Yeah, I guess she did.

  I don’t read the letter right away. I can’t. Not here. Not while her husband and daughter watch me. We leave after that. I’m still holding it when River’s small hand digs into my jeans pocket and takes out the rental car keys.

  “I’ll drive. You relax.”

  I’m thankful for that. Our drive back to the hotel is quiet, the car radio off. Just the sounds of the road under the tires—that, and the thundering of my heart.

  When we get to the hotel twenty-five minutes later, I follow River into the elevator and then to the room we stopped in before, barely long enough to drop the weekend bags we packed.

  I’m glad she insisted on coming with me. If I had done this alone, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to go through with it.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she says as she grabs her bag and makes her way to the bathroom. I know what she’s doing. She’s giving me space so I can read Hannah’s letter.

  Dear Liam,

  If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. I never imagined I would write a letter like this.

  Even though death is a constant shadow over my shoulder, I’m in the business of saving lives.

  But being a doctor is not the same as being God and we are limited by what our bodies allow us to do.

  You may think that writing this letter to you is difficult. I thought the same when I came up with this idea, but it’s not.

  It’s freeing actually knowing that my words will be read and taken to heart. That there will be nothing left unsaid from me to you.

  I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you. When we first met you were just a kid. A kid who thought he was tough, but nothing in your life could have prepared you for this place and the horrors you saw and will see. I don’t think anyone is ever prepared to deal with this. The human mind, the human soul is far too delicate for war. At least the good ones are.

  And you, Liam, you have a good heart and a good soul. I know your reasons for being here, but don’t stay too long. Make sure you leave before it’s too late. Before you’re too broken to fix. Don’t allow my death to turn you into a statistic. I know you will blame yourself for not saving me. For not being able to stop whatever is it that’s going to kill me.

  It is not your fault. I chose to be here, just like you did. We chose it for different reasons, but it was our free will that brought us here. And it will be God’s will that will end it.

  Don’t blame God either. It’s not God’s job to prevent bad things from happening. It’s our job. Each of us have responsibility over our actions or lack of action. And we live or die by the consequences of those actions.

  Please find comfort in knowing I will be happy to see my little brother again. I have missed him more than words can tell.

  It will hurt me to leave Michael and Cassie behind, but I know I will see them again. I trust in this.

  One day I will be a distant memory and the war will fade away. But you, you’ll go on. You go on living. Leave your mark in the world. Go back to school and finish back home what you started here. You have valuable skills but more than that. You have a heart that’s true and pure. You are meant to save lives. Don’t throw that away.

  Go home, leave all this behind, find someone to love. Find someone who understands you. Find someone who cares and be happy.

  You are a great friend to me and I love you.

  Now go on. Live!

  Love,

  Hannah

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  It’s graduation day. Commencement starts in two hours. I’m so excited, I have to pee every five minutes. I feel like one of those teacup dogs rich girls carry around in a purse—all excitement and pee puddles. Mom and Dad drove up earlier this morning and I can hear them talking in the living room. I took a shower and dried my hair. Now I just have to get dressed and put some makeup on. I don’t remember being this happy, ever. I know part of it is because of Liam. Part of it is because of graduation and part is because Logan got great news last night. Five of the girls they reached recognized and identified Jon from the multiple pictures the police showed them. And two of those girls had DNA evidence on them from the time of their own attack. One had skin cells removed from her fingernails and the other had saliva from bite marks on her body. They will be running those tests and they’re sure it will be a match. The more counts of rape we can prove against Jon, the greater our chances of getting him behind bars will be. Logan says that once we get confirmation and press more changes against him, other girls are likely to come forward.

  There’s a knock on the door and it cracks open a few inches. “Can I come in?”

  Liam’s voice reaches me and causes an immediate tingle in my belly.

  I close the purple silk robe around me, tying the knot at my waist.

  “Yeah, you can come in.” The door opens wide, and he steps in. A moment later the click lets me know he locked it.

  I can’t help the smile that takes over my lips. We’ve been together several times in the last few days. Each time is better than the previous one. I can’t quite believe this is real. His eyes take me in, traveling all over my body before settling on my face. I don’t know what this is we have between us. We haven’t put words to it, but every time he’s near me, I’m happy and when he’s not, I miss him. Even when we’re talking on the phone or texting, I still miss him.

  “You know, I never thought purple would be my favorite col
or, but it’s growing on me.” He’s in my space in a few short steps. His hands come up to my face and he tilts it up to him. I don’t resist. I gladly give into his touch. I crave it. His lips come to mine in a gentle kiss.

  “Are you ready?”

  I look down at myself. “No, not unless you want me to flash everyone if the wind blows during graduation.”

  He groans. “Does that mean you have nothing under this robe?” His fingers trace the edge of the fabric where it overlaps at my waist.

  “Why don’t you check and find out?”

  His hand drops to the hem of my robe and his fingers trace my thigh, bringing the fabric up with them, until he gets to the spot where he should be touching my panties. If I had any on, that is. He groans louder.

  “Fuck, River! Your parents are out there. Logan and Skye are out there and all I can think about is burying my face and my dick between your legs,” he whispers.

  It’s my turn to moan. His fingers come around the front and find me already wet for him. I moan louder. He drops to his knees. His lips are on me a second later. I grab onto his shoulders, holding myself up. There’s urgency in the way he licks at me. Liam likes to take his time with me, to build me up, and he’s a master at delayed gratification, but not right now. He’s devouring me and less than two minutes later, I’m coming. I bite my lip so I don’t make any noises. I can’t believe we’re doing this when everyone is just on the other side of the wall and a few feet down the hall. His mouth gentles on me as I come down from my high. He drops little kisses onto me. That’s something I have come to expect and love.

  Mom’s voice comes through the walls. “Breakfast is ready, kids! Come and get it!”

  Liam’s head touches my belly, and he sucks in a breath. “I forgot they were here. I can’t believe I forgot they’re all here. I just said they were out there and forgot all about them the moment I got a taste of you. What are you doing to me?” He looks at me then.