Page 38 of The Savior

The real world crashed onto her shoulders, and she zoned out as Liam and Buzz made small talk. A paralyzing realization struck. The two people closest to Julia, the friends who carried a silent darkness, had been enjoying life with raucous, unrepentant indulgence.

Liam turned back to the bar as Buzz left and fell silent. For a year, they’d both been riding the highs and lows of a roller coaster. The conversation with Buzz had thrown them an unexpected loop-de-loop.

“You know what I feel bad about?” she finally asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “This.”

“And that I don’t hurt as much I did that first day. Or the first month.”

“Or during the first year,” he said.

Chelsea paused. “I know time heals, and I don’t miss her any less. But the smothering pain is gone.”

He gave a silent, stoic nod again.

“I feel guilty that I feel better, because I’m not letting her go,” Chelsea whispered, unable to stop talking.

Liam rested his hand on her back as though he knew she couldn’t stop, and she deflated, taking a haggard breath.

“You okay?” It sounded as if he’d aged a hundred years. Liam rubbed a small circle in the middle of her back, and she leaned toward him, unsure of the answer.

He waited and inhaled deeply, somehow seeming as though he were growing bigger and wider, broadening his shoulders to take on the weight of the world. Then he let it out, and with it, he settled like a calm mountain in the poorly lit bar.

“What’s something you’ve never done?” he asked, changing the subject.

Chelsea stared at the dingy ceiling and tried to think of all the things she’d never done. Nothing came to mind. All she could think about was how he watched her. “No idea.”

Liam chortled. “Come on.”

“I don’t know!” Heck, right then, she couldn’t see beyond the confines of the bar, much less string together a dream activity in the real world. “Besides, that’s a personal question.”

His dark green eyes sparkled, even as his eyelids narrowed. “You two were so different.”

“True.” She twisted on the bar stool to evade his analysis. “Darts.”

“What?”

She was almost confused by what she’d said. Her tongue was several steps ahead of her bourbon-soaked thoughts. “I’ve never played darts.”

Cracking a smile, he asked, “That’s on your bucket list?”

“Well… no.” It had simply popped into her head. “But I’ve never played darts.”

He leaned toward the bar and asked for a couple of beers. The long necks quickly came, and he took them both and stood. “Let’s go.”

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