Page 72 of For the Love of Layla

The headstones always feel so… informal. Like you couldn’t be bothered to scroll through their social media feed to get to knowthem.Not that Liam ever had any accounts like that, but still. I watch the musty fabric pool at my feet, revealing my smooth unblemished skin. Free from hickeys and bite marks left behind by him. The yellow hue to my shoulder and ankle is all that remains. Soon there will be no sign at all that he was ever here. That he existed, that he still exists. With that not at all gut wrenching thought, I tug on one of the t-shirts I asked Brandon to grab me from his house and crawl into bed waiting for the sleeping pills to take away all the traces of my grief.

I’m not sure what wakes me, only that something does. The moon peeks out from behind the trees outside my window and I frown, rubbing at my eyes. Usually these things knock me out well into the morning. It’s a weird feeling not being able to trust your own mind if what you’re hearing or seeing is a figment of your imagination put in place to protect you from something far darker. My therapist had no shortage of treatment plans and recovery goals set out for me. Maybe I would be better by now if I hadn’t stopped going, but somehow, I doubt it. I groan at the stiffness in my back, my hand instinctively reaching out for Peaches who I guess jumped ship hours ago.

Glancing over at my phone, it’s 3 a.m. I try to fight against the bubble of anxiety that comes with being woken up from a disorienting pill induced coma in the middle of the night. Wiping the back of my hand across my dry lips, cringing at the drool pooling around my mouth as I sit up in bed. My eyes scan the dark room, lit only barely by the orange glow of my nightlight that I don’t really remember turning on.

Probably did. I never forget it.

When my scan makes its way back to its starting point, the nightlight on the dresser. I suck in a breath so sharp I hack almost immediately. The coughing only made worse by the dryness in my throat as I untangle myself from the sheets.

I…

My hands start to tremble as I walk to my mirror, my heart ramming around in my chest like it's trying to make its way free. Tears slip down my cheeks faster than I think they ever have before. I can’t help the shaky smile that spreads across my face nor the sob that leaves my throat as I run my trembling fingers across the star scribbled in black ink on the mirror above my dresser. The glint of a diamond ring taped next to it reflects against the warm glow of the light.

Liam.

The end?

Read further for the optional epilogue ending.

Epilogue: For the Love of Liam

Layla by Eric Clapton

Layla

It was an easy decision, to quit my job at Blinked. To leave everything behind to followhim.Even though I’m the only one that believes he’s alive. I do believe it, with every single fiber of my being. I’m the only one that’s seen that familiar figure lurking in the shadows, just outside of my line of sight, the smell of him that lingers in my bedroom in the morning. When I pass out after eating something, only to wake up hours later… sore in all the right places. Obviously, I’ve figured out the police won’t be any help, even if they were… Liam would never see the light of day.

“Reporters are still posted outside Curran Enterprises awaiting an official statement from the now acting volatile COO after the death of his best friend and CEO founder of the company, Liam Curran. Mr. Curran is suspected to have murdered four people in the weeks leading up to his death over a month ago, killed by a fire he set in his childhood home after brutally taking the life of his mother, beloved socialite and ruined heiress, Grace Curran. It’s been a month since his death and investors are growing anxious. Police have reported-

I slam my hand a little harder than necessary into the off button. It hurts my palm as it plunges the car into silence. Only the rattle of Peaches' collar fills the space as she adjusts in the backseat. Since the fire, I’ve come to find that silence is my worst enemy. Odd how something so serene could be so violent. I take a steadying breath as the same questions that have been filling my every thought consume me.

Why wouldn’t he tell me what he was going to do?

Why more games?

Where is he?

How do I find him?

I have no fucking clue.

All I know is that Liam Curran is alive and as much as I’m his… he’s mine. I will find him if it’s the last thing I do. He wants to play… to test me. So I’ll give him what he needs, I’ll play as long as this ends with him and I. I cringe when I think of the look on Ava’s face when I showed her the star and the unique oval diamond ring, held in place by a band of thorns. I grip it tightly as it dangles from the delicate silver chain on my neck. Glancing in the rear view mirror, my home long disappeared from my sight. I don’t think she believed me, honestly, I don’t blame her, all things considered. I did although quickly excuse myself when she started talking to me like a crazy person.

Not trying to go for another mental health hold.

I don’t have any real clue where to start, I’ve dug through all of his personal effects, paperwork, everything. Nothing shows he planned to disappear, but then again, I doubt he’d leave those where they could easily be found. He has five properties, five different homes, three of which are in places with nonextradition treaties with the US. It would’ve been so much easier to talk with Brandon. I just… didn’t have the heart for it. Not until I had proof more concrete than a ring and crudely drawn shape on my mirror. I need to make one more stop before I board his-… before I boardmyjet. Not that I really think of all this stuff as mine. I’m just holding it for him, I did nothing to earn any of it save for spreading my legs. Which he apparently thought was enough. I wasn’t there when he needed me, I couldn’t say the words he needed to hear. I’ll make it right. I have to.

The trees bleed together and the lines on the road give way to gravel as I barrel towards the large structure sat in the middle of an otherwise empty field. My pulse quickens at the thought of being back here, how many days and nights I spent daydreaming of this place. The drive in he built especially for me. My heart stills as a ding comes from the cup holder of the car seconds after my feet hit the tall itchy grass. I dip back into the car quickly, and it resumes beating. The thumping in my chest is intense and frenzied, as if I’d just ran a mile. The same thing it's done since he left anytime my godforsaken phone would go off hoping to see a text from anunknownnumber only to be crushed by a wall of disappointment.

This time is different. I could feel it long before I unlocked my phone.

A whimper leaves my chest as my hand flies to my mouth in an attempt to stifle the broken sounds that follow it.

Unknown: Close your eyes.

I don’t hesitate, I’ll never hesitate again. Closing them tightly, my chest aching as heavy footsteps crunch in the grass behind me. The ache that lives deeper in my chest demands I cry, scream, punch and kick as hard as I can but I don’t because right now in this moment I want nothing more than his skin against mine. The hair on my neck stands up straight, sending goosebumps across my body as warm breath tickles my ear. He’s standing so close my skin prickles with static energy from his body despite layers of clothes separating us. It's below freezing today, and yet I feel like I’m standing on the surface of a falling star, hurtling towards the ground with it. I lean into his broad chest as his fingers lightly trace the outline of my jaw, running insufferably slow to my lips where he slowly parts them.

“I missed you, little star.”

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