Page 33 of Southie
“Thanks,” he replied.
Our hearts hung heavy as we walked away from the officer towards Liam’s truck in each other’s arms, seeking comfort from one another. We weren’t sure how long it would take them to remove her body from the home, but we decided not to wait around to see it.
The hair standing up on the back of my neck stopped me in my tracks. Everything around me looked normal until my eyes landed on a black Audi parked on the side of the street two houses down from Mrs. Daugherty’s.
“Camilla?”
My brows pinched together as I stared at the car.
“Camilla, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?” Liam asked.
I shook my head. This wasn’t the time nor the place for me to voice my concerns about something that was probably my subconscious working overtime. Liam just found out he lost his grandmother. I didn’t need to compound my problems with his. He had enough of his own.
“It’s nothing. Never mind.”
He nodded. Although he agreed to let it go, his demeanor conveyed something different. He didn’t believe me.
When he didn’t question me any further, my body sagged against the leather seat of his truck. I was pleased he let it drop.
As we drove away, the feeling remained, but I pushed it out of my mind. His fingers interlaced with mine allowed me to relax. Even though the gesture was unexpected, it was comfortable and needed.
While he focused on the road, I gazed out the window in a complete daze watching the world pass by. People walked down the sidewalks, kids played in the park, and vehicles headed for their destinations like no one had murdered Mrs. Daugherty.
Tears leaked from my eyes as I thought about how much I’d miss the vivacious woman, and the grief Liam must have been experiencing. He remained silent, but his heartache filled the cab of his truck. I wanted to do something, anything to make it go away or bring Mrs. Daugherty back.
For me to cry at a time like this was unacceptable. While I’d lost my dear friend, she was his grandmother. He needed me to be strong.
I wiped the tears from eyes and turned to him. “I’m so sorry, Liam.”
He remained silent, but his grip tightened around my fingers, showing me he appreciated the gesture even if he didn’t or couldn’t speak the words.
I propped my head against the window and never released Liam’s hand. My mind drifted back to the many questions surrounding the death of Mrs. Daugherty and the unsettling feeling that her death was only the beginning.
* * *
The blue oval sign welcomed us to Mission Hill, City of Boston. I read it, eyebrows squished together, lost in my thoughts since we left Mrs. Daugherty’s so I hadn’t noticed we weren’t going toward my home.
I sat up in my seat to get a better look at where we were. Liam gave my hand a light squeeze. When I recognized nothing we passed, I looked at him, waiting for him to tell me where the hell he was taking me. I’d assumed he’d take me home, but he remained quiet, eyes on the road.
“Liam, where are we? Why aren’t you taking me home?”
“We’re going to my place. You don’t need to be alone, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to be alone either. I need you, Camilla.”
For a few minutes, my eyes remained glued on him. Drinking in the gorgeous man, my heart broke for him. Granted, he wasn’t bawling his eyes out as I’d been earlier, but they no longer reflected that glint of excitement or want they’d held when I’d spoken with him at Mrs. Daugherty’s yesterday. That day now seemed like a lifetime ago. Those emotions we’d shared seemed a lifetime ago. The desire and excitement from our earlier encounter disappeared. Only anger, despair and hurt remained.
I relaxed against the cushiony, black leather seat. He was right. That was the last thing I wanted. If I’d arrived home distraught, my father wouldn’t understand. He’d never heard of Mrs. Daugherty and if he found out about her connection to Liam, all hell would break loose.
Liam’s wellbeing would have remained on my mind if I’d gone home, anyway. To be here with him was what we both needed. I wouldn’t deny him or me the closeness we both craved.
After a few more minutes of riding in comfortable silence, we arrived at a nice gated community fifteen minutes outside Mission Hill. A guard waved us through wrought black iron gates, and I admired the brick two-story homes and perfectly manicured lawns of the quiet neighborhood.
Liam pulled into the driveway of a home at the end of a cul-de-sac and drove inside a two-car garage. When we parked alongside my dream car, a blacked-out Dodge Charger with a red stripe down the center of the hood, my jaw dropped. This home wasn’t what I’d expected.
Liam’s home was in a very upscale, quiet neighborhood, much like the one I grew up in, but the Liam I knew stuck out like a sore thumb here. Sure, he had money. Lots of it. From the designer clothes and accessories he’d worn the first night I met him, I could tell he was more than well off. He could afford this houseandone with a much higher price tag.
