“I won’t. I’m just doing the best I can, that’s it.”
“I know you,” he replies, looking so deeply into my eyes it’s as if he’s staring straight into my soul. “You give your all until you have nothing left.”
“That’s a good thing,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” he replies, his voice strained with emotions. “Not when your heart is on the line.”
“My heart doesn’t matter. The family does,” I reply.
His face begins to darken. “Don’t say that, Jasmine. I don’t care what they make you do, but don’t you ever say your heart doesn’t matter.” He grabs my chin and forces me to look up. “You hear me? You matter.”
“But—”
“And I want you to remember that. Always.”
Tears stain my eyes. “What if your parents pick your brother?”
His jaw tightens, and his lips thin. “I have no control over what my parents do …” He places his hands on my shoulders. “But I promise I will always be here to protect you.”
Present
* * *
He lied.
He couldn’t protect me.
Not from Luca … or himself.
I turn around in the bed and sigh to myself, moping around while trying to get back to sleep. But when I close my eyes, all I see is him and the boy he used to be … as well as the man I thought he would become.
Why did it have to be like this?
Why couldn’t Jill just have stormed off on her own and not taken Liam with her?
My eyes burst open, and I sit up straight in bed.
No. I can’t blame Jill. She didn’t do it on purpose.
She wanted to take Liam out of there … Luca was picking a fight with him, and it was about to get messy.
But what if she had let them fight it out?
Would he still be the Liam you once knew?
I rub my face and slap my cheeks, but it won’t stop me from thinking about all the things I shouldn’t be thinking about.
Nothing can change the past. Nothing.
What’s done is done.
Still, I can’t stop my eyes as they trail toward Liam. He’s still sitting in that chair, eyes closed, arms tipped over the edge, legs splayed in front of the fire. With his half-long hair covering half his face, he looks like a mess yet … familiar.
Like somewhere, deep inside, there might still be a memory of the boy I once knew locked away. Waiting … waiting to be released.
And I can’t help but throw the blanket off me and traipse toward him, careful not to wake him until I’m right in front of him. I hover close to his face, wondering what’s going on inside his mind.
What does he dream of when he sleeps? Twisted nightmares of killing Jill?