Page 23 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

ason to let the tension go without actually telling anyone your problems. Take control so it can’t take control of you.”

Again, who the hell was he to be saying these things? He’d been trying to exorcise these demons for years. Yet again, he may not know what he was doing, if he was even helping, but he refused to give up. He’d lost his mother, lost his adoptive parents, and was cheated on by a fiancée. Saving any of those relationships was impossible, but backing down from helping those around him wasn’t an option . . . even if it did test his patience and his emotions at times.

“I haven’t let anything control me for a while,” she replied, turning to face the bag. “But I won’t be a victim again.”

Before he could even comprehend the chilling meaning behind the term “victim,” Macy let loose and hit the bag. Once, twice, three times. She grunted on the last one and continued to glare as if she were truly facing her nightmare.

“Victims are weak.” Punch. “I’m not weak.” Punch. “I have no reason to be afraid of anything.”

Liam propped his still-taped hands onto his hips and watched as she let out the pent-up anger and rage. This was the best form of therapy he’d ever found. He’d gone to a shrink one time, and that was enough to know hashing out his feelings to a total stranger who knew nothing about hurt and true pain didn’t work . . . at least not for him.

He’d had an amazing childhood with his single mother. They were inseparable . . . and then they were ripped apart by her untimely death. The foster home he was sent to looked picture perfect from the outside, as most do, but he was in a choke hold on day two. By day five, Liam had discovered if he didn’t hit back, he’d never make it.

Liam’s foster parents were in denial about the behavior of the son they were raising. The teen boy, who was four years older than Liam, had about fifty pounds on him. Liam learned to sleep with a chair beneath his bedroom doorknob, and learned to stay in the same room as the foster parents as much as possible. But there were always times when they’d be at work, leaving their oldest son in charge.

Liam continued to watch as Macy fought her own past. Just how ugly were those images rolling through her head? Liam had a feeling once he learned—and he vowed to dig deeper to find out—he’d want to hurt someone. Macy deserved all the happiness in the world and the fact that she was a victim of anything made his blood boil. He never would’ve imagined her battling her own living nightmare. He’d been so sure she had the perfect life, which she deserved, but he’d been wrong. And more than ever, he wished he’d been right.

The pounding continued and before long, Macy had a sheen of sweat covering her shoulders, her arms. Her ponytail swung against her back, and her concentration was so intense, Liam didn’t dare say a word to disrupt her. She needed this, and maybe he needed her here. Maybe he needed to see that just because they had this crackling chemistry they kept ignoring didn’t mean they couldn’t be in the same room together.

Chest heaving, Macy turned to face him. With pink cheeks, damp forehead, and strands of hair clinging to her neck, she made quite the picture. The scoop in her tank showed off damp skin and he had to fist his hands in an attempt to remind himself he had zero right to touch. The lace strap slid slightly down one toned shoulder. Liam clenched his hands at his sides. His wants and needs had no place here.

The fitted jeans and well-worn cowgirl boots only aided in the entire sexy package. She screamed down-home girl.

“I need to get one of these.” Her eyes literally sparkled. Her face, void of makeup, lit up as she smiled. “No wonder you’re so”—she waved a gloved hand up and down his body—“that way.”

He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was. “What way am I?” he asked, tugging her gloves off and tossing them back onto the unmade bed.

With smile still firmly in place, Macy lifted a brow. “Seriously, Liam? Fishing for compliments?”

He didn’t say a word. Compliments weren’t something that came to him. Stares, whispers, questioning looks, all of that was the norm. He wasn’t vain, but he knew he wasn’t ugly before the accident. He’d dated quite a bit, had several girlfriends, in fact. There was a time he’d lost his mind and thought about looking for a long-term relationship, maybe one day even getting married.

He knew Macy had had a slight crush on him back in the day. Chelsea had hinted enough, but Liam didn’t think getting involved with his sister’s friend was the wisest move at the time.

Then Macy had gone off to college only weeks before his accident and Liam had regretted never asking her out. He’d planned to rectify that when she came home on break. Unfortunately, the next time she came home, he wasn’t in Haven any longer. The accident had changed everything inside him. He’d been so angry at the world, at Zach, at his mother for dying and leaving him. He’d wanted out, had wanted to cut all ties, so he’d gone to Savannah, where he could blend into a larger city.

That’s when he’d met Angela. She’d been amazing at first, everything he thought he needed at the time to heal. Then she showed her true self by cheating on him when someone better came along. Clichéd, yes, but there was no sugarcoating the truth.

After their relationship ended, Liam found out just how much she’d gotten around and he knew he’d been played for a fool. From then on he’d done a stellar job of keeping people at a good distance, staying alone and having a private life. He’d not let anyone even remotely close to him.

And his plan of being alone had all worked beautifully, until now.

Macy continued to stare at him. Silence surrounded them in that crackling way that made him twitchy. When she took one step forward, then another, every part of him tensed. Her eyes never wavered and he wished like hell he knew what was going through her mind—or perhaps he was better off not knowing.

The second her hand lifted, instinct had him turning away. Delicate fingers landed on his shoulder blade. “Why do you always do that? Turning won’t make anything change.”

The scar and the tension. Damn it.

“I turn away because this isn’t why you’re here.” But he couldn’t step back from her touch, not when it felt this good. He wanted her hands on him, so he was selfishly taking only a little of what she was offering.

“Look at me,” she demanded, though her tone remained soft. “You know I don’t care about a scar.”

He whirled around. “Because this didn’t happen to you. You have no clue what scars I carry.” His heart beat fast in his chest. Never had a woman been so direct about his face. Then again, he’d never given any woman the opportunity. And Macy only knew the scar she could see.

Macy swiped her damp face with the back of her forearm. “Are you ready to spill your secret yet? Let me in so I can understand.”

“Why don’t you tell me all your secrets?” he countered. No way in hell was he going to get all emotional and allow someone so sweet into his ugly past.

For several moments he stared, waiting on her to say something, to call him on the fact he countered her question with one of his own. When she said nothing, Liam spun around and made it all the way to the door when her words stopped him cold.

---