Once Upon a Friendship

“Walter Connelly.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

LIAM’S FIRST ARTICLE was due to hit the internet and—thanks to a small paying subsidiary sale— magazine stands simultaneously on the first of March. Which meant waiting another couple of weeks before he’d find out—possibly—his father’s reaction to what he’d done. Some nights, late, he’d sit at his window, looking out over Denver, imagining that Walter would read the article and understand that Liam would always have his back. Understand that Liam had tried his best to please him while doing the healthy thing and carving out a life for himself. Understand that even now Liam was trying to help him.

Most times, he was resigned to the inevitable. He was a man without a father.

Gabrielle had called to tell him about her meeting with Donaldson earlier in the week. Walter Connelly had been blackmailing the man into silence for years. This was not a man who harbored sentimental feelings.

This was a man who was holding his own son captive. If the grand jury came back with an indictment on Walter, he was going to drop the bomb on Liam. Liam guessed he owed it to the old man that Walter hadn’t already pointed his finger at him. But then he’d be admitting to his own guilt in obstructing justice, which could sway a grand jury not to go in his favor.

Better to hedge his bets. To see if he could walk away scot-free before settling for a lesser charge and hanging his son.

Gabi had called to tell him about Donaldson. And other than during his occasional trips downstairs for coffee, he hadn’t seen either one of the girls. He and Gabi had talked about needing the family they’d formed.

About not jeopardizing that.

And yet the idea of her eventually marrying and having another man’s children was bothering him more than the trouble with his father.

Liam had begun work on the second article. Had taken some walks, with Tanner tailing behind him, a couple of evenings. The man’s presence was almost a comfort to him now—whether he was really watching out for him or spying for Walter. To Liam, in those moments, he was a sign that Walter still cared in some fashion.

As the week wore on, his crazy awareness of Gabrielle did not wear off. To the contrary, he foun

d himself waking up with her on his mind. Or wanting to kiss her when he heard her voice on the phone. But he knew that the reaction was probably inevitable at the moment. Proximity. And the fact that she and Marie and the residents were pretty much his whole world right now.

He was free to go out. To do whatever he wanted to do. But that freedom wasn’t worth the possible backlash of another swarm of press descending upon him to judge and twist his actions.

Not while he was possibly facing a trial that could lead to a very long jail sentence.

In his healthier moments, he was forgiving himself for some of his preoccupation with Gabrielle.

For the time being, she was his hope.

He was thinking about her at noon on Friday, imagining her in the plain office building several miles away, eating her lunch. Wondering if she’d packed a sandwich or last night’s leftovers.

And started to hurt because he had no idea what last night’s leftovers entailed. He hadn’t been invited to dinner in days.

Liam sprang from his chair. He had to get a life. Move forward. At the computer, he pulled up flight timetables. He had to move his trip to Florida up. To one that left the next day.

Even if he had to fly right back on Monday to be there to help Gabi answer questions or read reports, then so be it. He had to get out of here.

But before he could click the save button and authorize payment for the last-minute changes, there was a knock on his door. As though mocking his right to do what he needed to do.

Looking behind him, he was tempted to ignore the summons long enough to finish his purchase. To sit at the desk and type in payment information while whoever wanted his attention either waited or went away.

Grace’s fallen expression came to mind. Marie’s compassionate one. The straight face of the cop who’d handed him the restraining order.

Gabrielle. Needing him. Wanting him. Just stopping to say hello...

With a word Liam didn’t mutter often, he pushed out of his chair with a bit more force than necessary and went to the door.

He was glad he had—and wished he hadn’t—when he saw Gabi standing there in a long black coat covering most, but not all, of the beautiful long legs left exposed by her navy skirt and pumps to match. Her expression was dead serious.

“Get your coat. We need to go,” she said.

He was wearing jeans. A maroon-and-blue pullover sweater he’d had since college. And an old pair of shoes. “Go where?”

Didn’t she get that they couldn’t be seen out together if they had half a hope of dispelling the rumors about them?