Page 141 of Shattered Veil

Unfortunately, I knew that she needed the rest…and if I stayed in this bed for another minute, staring at her as she lay naked beside me, I feared that I wouldn’t let her sleep much longer.

As gently as possible, I rose. Thankfully, Cassie didn’t stir, and I padded about my apartment in the manner that I typically did on a day that was work-free. I found sweatpants and a loose shirt. Made a pot of coffee. Took some ibuprofen—though it was for my face rather than the twinge that historically shoots up my back when I sleep in a manner that my body deems unfit. The only notable difference in this morning compared to my usual ones as of late was that I felt…good.

Really good, which was saying something considering the aches and pains that lingered on my cheek, and I knew that part of it was just her. The other was mostly the feeling of upcoming closure with the knowledge that Cassie would contact Skylar whenever she was up and about. My anxiety would persist throughout time, I knew that…but I woke this morning without the sensation of foreboding that my nightmares would bring—and it gave me a spring in my step. A swelling, levitation-like floating within my chest.

It didn’t feel entirely warranted as I had just come out of the haze of darkness, and some of it still lingered above us, but I reveled in it regardless.

I stood in my kitchen, leaning my backside against the counter while I waited for my coffee machine to finish gurgling away to my right, and a timid knock came from the front door. Moving to it and checking the view through the peephole, I saw his mop of a blond head before anything else.

Liam stood with his hands shoved in his sweatpants’ pockets, short-sleeved shirt doing nothing to protect him from the cold as he patiently waited.

The door creaked on its hinges as I opened it. “Morning.”

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise at the sight of me.

“Oh.”

I held my hands out to the side, looking down at my body. “What oh?”

“Not,” he blinked several times in succession and looked upward, “not oh, definitely not oh—um—just the, ah…”

Liam’s nervous stammering had me wondering if he was here for his sister. If he had pondered how the remainder of our night had fared after he saw me run to her in a panic, embrace her as if she were life itself twice over, and subsequently witnessed her lovingly stroking my scalp as I drifted to sleep.

Over time, I had assumed that many saw Liam as how he looked—all brawn, no brains. Those who were actually graced with knowing him—really knowing him—knew that this wasn’t the case, though.

I was happy to be one of those people. I was well aware that Liam was far from dim…and he would have had to have been a dumb man not to be cognizant of what was going on between me and his sister.

He continued, pointing at his own face in a circular motion, “The—ah—”

“Oh…the bruises.”

Knowing that they had significantly darkened overnight, I stretched my neck to the right, angling my wounds in his direction, and he murmured:

“Jeez, man.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Not great, but, ah—ibuprofen, ice, all that. It’ll go away.”

“Right…right.”

Liam seemed to be contemplating his next words as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, rocking backward on the heels of his bare feet, to his toes, and back.

“Are you…here for Cas?” I slowly asked. “She’s sleeping still.”

“Huh?” He ceased his rocking, his dark eyes locking with mine anxiously. “Oh, no. No, I, ah—”

“Do you wanna come in, Liam?”

He smiled in a manner that seemed shy, and I noticed the scar on his lip stretch as his mouth did. The thin, white line marked him from the left side of his cupid’s bow, jaggedly extending all the way to the underside of his nostril. I had no idea why I locked in on it now…maybe it was because I was more aware of his and Cassie’s godawful childhood and teenage years…I don’t know. But I did.

He chuckled. “My feet are cold.”

I stepped aside to allow him in, joking, “It snowed yesterday. It’s November. The hallway is concrete. Throw on some shoes or at least some socks if you’re going out.”

“You live across the hall,” he countered as he walked through the threshold. “I figured it would be, ‘Oh, good morning, Liam, come in,’ but—”

“But my face was off-putting,” I mocked as I shut the door behind him.

He snorted. “No!” I shot him a raised eyebrow, and he corrected, “I mean…yeah. It’s, ah…very purple.”

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