Page 98 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

Liam shrugs and takes a seat on the coffee table, just across from me. “He paid attention to you.”

Ugh. I almost prefer mean Liam.

“He said he looked me up. I didn’t like that.”

Now he leans forward. His expression is… intense. I don’t know why. My Liam mind-reading abilities fell apart years ago. “What did he say exactly?”

I shrug and glance away. “I don’t know. Nonsense, really, about how… it was understandable that I freaked out in his apartment. I didn’t freak out, I just didn’t like what I saw. And he said old articles came up, but that doesn’t make sense. I’ve searched my name before, and nothing came up.”

A flash of guilt crosses his face.

I scowl. “That’s not right, is it?”

“Your parents wanted to protect you,” he says carefully. “They didn’t want details of what happened to you—”

“Did it happen in the woods?”

He freezes. “What?”

I’m unbearably cold. I grab the blanket off the back of the couch and wrap it around my shoulders. “I… I remembered something. Nothing impressive, just…”

“Tell me.”

“When I was fourteen, you found me in the woods?”

A horrible feeling sweeps through me when I say that, and I don’t know why.

“I found a piece of yellow tape… It was crime scene tape, right?”

He slowly nods.

“You knew I was going to go.” It isn’t a question. “And you knew my parents would glaze over the time I lost. I knew I couldn’t remember what happened to me, but I forgot… I forgot. Just like you said. Do you remember that?”

He just keeps nodding, and it breaks my heart.

I’m more surprised by the disappointment. He let me forget, and basically chose to let my mother wash away everything that happened. I’ve been trying to figure it out, and everyone dances around the subject.

Liam was supposed to be the one to tell me the truth.

I stand, casting off the blanket. “I’m going to bed.”

He stands, too, and it puts him close to me. Too close, really. Our chests almost brush. After everything that happened tonight… I should be feeling everything. The highs and lows. Terror and relief.

“I don’t feel anything,” I inform him. “About what happened tonight. I was scared. My ribs hurt—”

His fingers immediately bring up the hem of my sweatshirt, probing. “He kicked you.”

I nod once, waiting for him to find the spot. He only sweeps over it, but my cringe is wicked.

“A bruise.” His voice is gentle.

“I was scared,” I continue, “but there wasn’t time for it, you know?”

“I do.”

“So…. How am I supposed to feel right now?” Asking is vulnerable.

He continues up my sides, taking the sweatshirt up, too. I raise my arms, and he pulls it off completely. Goosebumps break out along my arms.

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