Page 5 of Taming Liberty

Of course not.

More pain, this time a stab in my chest.

I can still fix this.

“Why?” Sawyer asks.

“How much fucking money did you sell her for?”

He stares at me for a few moments, presumably debating over what to say. We didn’t used to think so hard when speaking to each other.

“A hundred.”

I stand and walk from the kitchen without another word, taking the stairs to my bedroom before heading to the safe in my closet. My head pounds as I open it, and I try not to think too hard about what I’m about to do. But despite my best efforts, my reluctance is there, buried beneath my desire for Lib, reminding me what happened the last time I was responsible for another human being.

I gather five stacks of hundred-dollar bills then throw in one more for good measure.

Sawyer is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze aimed at Lib who’s still motionless on the couch. Her face is turned, so I can’t see if she’s still catatonic or if she’s fallen asleep.

I face Sawyer, and as soon as my feet touch the first floor, I shove the cash at his chest.

“Here.”

He fumbles but manages to catch all but two of the stacks, letting the remaining two fall to the carpet.

He looks up from the money to eye me skeptically. “Really?”

I raise my chin in affirmation. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

He glances between me and the cash, disbelief marring his face. Eventually, he concedes and bends down to pick up the cash. When he stands, his conflicted eyes drift to Lib.

She doesn’t want you, Angel.Sawyer’s words repeat in my head.

“You don’t need to worry about her,” I say, my voice steady.

He looks at me. “You sure?”

I just look at him, Not bothering to respond.

He sighs. “All right then.” He lifts the bills. “Guess I’d better go pay that guy back.”

I remain still, my face impassive. Sawyer must give up on whatever reaction he’s hoping to get from me because he turns and trudges toward the kitchen without a goodbye.

I walk to Lib, hearing the patio door shut just as I get to her. Her closed eyes appear soft, the sweet escape of sleep granting her relief. Her chest rises and falls with each deep breath.

I push her hair out of her face and sigh. “I’m sorry.”

The words feel unnatural on my tongue, maybe because I’m not even sure what it is I’m apologizing for. There are too many things. Maybe I’m sorry for all of it.

But no, that isn’t true. If I was, she wouldn’t be here. I’d listen to Sawyer, let her be sold to another man, let her have a shot at accepting this life. Maybe I’d even find a way to get her off the island.

Instead, she’s here. She’s mine.

Mine.

It’s been so long since I’ve said that, and I never thought I’d say it again. It feels wrong…

Yet at the same time, it feels oddly right.

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