Page 68 of Arranged Scars
He flinches but doesn’t look away. “You’re right. I wasn’t worried then. All I could think about was touching you more. That’s all I can still think about. That’s why we need to slow down.”
“Great, I’m glad you’re worried about getting more sex from me, but that’s not happening unless I’m getting something I want.”
That’s not fair and it’s definitely not nice. Finn’s hands lace together and I notice he’s gripping them tightly. He’s fighting to stay calm right now while I’m doing everything to bait him into anger. I throw back my wine and take a breath before I say something I’m really going to regret.
“I know you’re angry. I can’t even blame you. I promised I’d let you go after we finished off your brothers and your father, and I swear I’ll give that to you when this is all over. But right now, if you want to have any life after this is over, we need to be smart. It’s not about me and you, Caroline. It’s just about you.”
I make myself pause before I answer. My first thought is some cutting retort, but I’m being a bitch and I need to settle down. When I’ve taken a second, I lean in.
“I’m going to lose my nerve,” I say plaintively. “If we stop, all these ugly thoughts in my head are going to catch up, and I’m afraid of when that happens.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. They’re the abusers.”
“And now I’m a murderer. Look, I don’t want to get into a discussion of who’s worse. We’re all monsters here, right? I’m just saying that if we’re going to do this together, we need to keep going. I’m like a giant rolling boulder with all my momentum behind me, but the second I come grinding to a halt, I doubt I’ll ever get back up to speed.”
“I hear you,” he says, sliding sideways from the booth. “But that doesn’t change anything. I’ll be your push if that’s what you need when the time comes. For now, get some rest.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing. I’m tired of resting.” He starts to walk away. “When are you coming home, Finn? Where have you been sleeping?”
He doesn’t answer. I watch him go. Frustration rolls down my spine and I have to dig my fingernails into my thigh to keep from crying. Nothing is more pathetic than a girl sobbing alone at a booth in a dive bar.
Screw him. He can run around the city all he wants. I’m not slowing down and I’m sure as hell not stopping. If he doesn’t want to help, that’s fine by me.
I’ll take matters into my own hands.
26
CAROLINE
“Idon’t know how you idiots do this,” I grumble to myself. I hunch down lower in the driver’s seat of a plain black BMW I borrowed from my husband’s fleet of cars. He won’t notice it’s gone and he wouldn’t care either way. “Comeon, Liam. Do something!”
I’ve been sitting outside that same dive from two days earlier for hours now, ever since it was light out. I know Liam’s inside because I saw him get dropped off from an Uber a little after sunset. Now it’s full-on night, getting close to one in the morning, and I’m exhausted. My back aches, my legs are itchy, and I peed on the sidewalk like a freaking animal when nobody was around after struggling to hold it like a crazy person.
This isn’t fun.
I thought following Liam would be easy. Stay far back so he doesn’t notice, creep around after him, and figure out what I need to know. Since my husband isn’t being helpful, I figure I’ll take care of it myself.
But this stinks. He’s just in there doing god knows what. Probably drinking and having a great time with easy access to a toilet while I’m in this stinky car feeling miserable.
A part of me wonders if Finn’s right. Maybe it’s better if we back off and wait a while. I don’t want to get caught just because I’m impatient and can’t wait a few more months. I have the argument with myself over and over, and each time I come to the same conclusion: I’m a freaking shark, baby.
If I stop swimming, I’m donezo.
At around one-thirty, Liam appears outside. He pauses, looks around, and stares down at his phone. I resist the urge to perk up. He might notice any sudden movements. Instead, I stay where I am, shifted down low behind the steering wheel. After a few more minutes, another Uber pulls up and Liam climbs into the back.
I follow it. There’s no way Liam’s going to notice as the passenger and I doubt the driver’s paying any attention. We snake our way through the side streets, heading toward Queens. It takes forever, but eventually the Uber stops and Liam gets out in front of a shady, crumbling row of houses.
I roll past, heart racing. I doubt he saw me, but there was an instant where I was right next to him. I go around the block, confused about what the heck is going on.
Why would Liam want to be in this place in the middle of the night? There’s nothing around here but residential streets, a few bodegas, shady daycares, stuff like that. Am I about to witness a drug deal or something? Knowing my husband, that’s extremely possible.
I park the car around the corner and hustle out. I try to be subtle and quiet, but everything’s terrifying. I flinch at shadows and my heart races up into my throat as I slowly stroll onto the street where I last saw Liam, doing my best to be casual about it.
There’s nothing here. Most of the buildings are abandoned, and the ones that aren’t have thick metal bars over the windows. I frown, looking around, searching for where he could have gone?—
“Hey, Caroline. You’re fucking terrible at this.”
I yelp and whirl around. Liam’s leaning against a stoop, casually puffing on a small cigarillo. He gets it going and grins at me.
