“Yes, you did kiss me. Which proves nothing,” he said, “except your acting ability.”
And what a fool I am.
“That wasn’t acting, Liam.”
“Sorry, but you’ve lied so much I don’t know what to believe.”
“I only lied about who I was. Everything else was real.”
“No!” He revved the motor, drowning out the pain screaming in his mind. “Nothing was real!” He gunned it again. “What was it, Carly? Revenge? Did you want to humiliate me for getting your brother killed?”
“Ben’s death wasn’t your fault. I never blamed you for it.” Tears streamed down her face. “I was sad about how much you suffered.”
“Then it must have been pity. You felt so sorry for me, you couldn’t even be honest. Poor crippled guy. I’ll pretend I care about him for a while, then escape while I can.”
“That’s not true! I swear! You can ask Fordham.” She sounded earnest, but now Liam knew better than to believe anything she said.
“Fordham knows, huh? That’s just grand. That means Bran knows, too. I’m sure you all had fun laughing at me.”
“Think whatever you want about me. But you can’t believe Bran and Fordham would do something like that.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. But I know what I don’t believe—anything you say.”
It took every ounce of concentration Liam had to keep his mind on driving the snowmobile back to the house. He parked the machine and transferred to his wheelchair, barely constraining his rage.
Would the universe never tire of tormenting him? What a sick joke to bring him together with Ben’s little sister after all these years and make him fall for her!
Meanwhile, Carly had been on a secret pity quest and played her role to a T. He was shocked at how much passion she’d put into that fake kiss.
Hurt didn’t begin to describe how he felt. More like betrayed! The pain in his chest was so intense he could barely breathe.
I wish I had died that night instead of Ben.
He’d had that same thought on more than one occasion over the past sixteen years, but he’d never meant it more.
He rolled toward his room, not bothering to move his chair to the elevated position. No need to stand like a normal man when she’d made it clear she would never view him that way.
An immediate escape seemed to be Liam’s only hope of retaining his sanity. How could he bear to be in the apartment adjacent to Carly’s after what she’d done?
To have any hope of stilling the maelstrom inside his head, Liam needed to get away from the estate. At least until the next morning, when Fordham could confirm Carly was gone.
He sent a text to Fordham asking that his car be brought to the front immediately. His pulse slowed a bit when he received Fordham’s confirmation text. “Five minutes.”
Whether Carly lagged on purpose, Liam didn’t know, but he made it to his room and shut the door before she was even in the corridor. He quickly packed an overnight bag and opened his door to be certain the hallway was clear. With the suitcase hooked behind his chair, he navigated down the long hallway to Bran’s main kitchen and found what he needed in the refrigerator—a set of large brown bottles.
Branson always stocked Liam’s favorite kombucha for him when he came. The drink had been his beverage of choice for sixteen years, as he hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol since the accident. The sharp taste satisfied some vague urge and somehow made him feel more in control.
Liam opened a forty-ounce bottle and gulped down a third of it. He checked the time. His car should be waiting. Flipping a lever, he switched his chair to power from the right wheel alone and started out of the kitchen, holding his open bottle.
Though he tried to think of something else—anything else—images of the last two days with Carly filled his mind. Her shy smile when they met. Her laughter as she and Fordham had bested them at cards. The trust he’d felt when she was riding behind him on the snowmobile.
She had obviously recognized him at the outset and lied about her last name. Had everything that followed truly been a sham? It seemed almost impossible.
Though moving slower, pushing with one hand, Liam quickly made it to the front foyer, where Fordham stood with his key.
“Are you leaving us?” Fordham eyed his suitcase.
“Just overnight,” Liam said, not having the emotional energy to explain. “My other bag is still in my room. I’ll return tomorrow when Carly is gone.”
“I see.” Fordham nodded gravely. “I must say, I’m surprised Carly’s prediction held true.”
“Her prediction?” He didn’t want to ask, but he had to know.
“The very first night she insisted you would hate her if you knew her identity. I assume that is now the case.”
Liam’s hackles raised. “Hate is a very strong word, Fordham, and makes me sound like the aggressor. I’m angry because she faked way more than her identity.”
“Did she?”
He didn’t have time to stand there and argue. “I’m leaving now, Fordham.” He took another swig of his drink. “We can discuss this tomorrow. And maybe I’ll give you a chance to defend your own part in this fiasco.”
“Very well.” Fordham’s stiff neck told him the man intended to win any such debate.
Liam took the keys and rolled out to his car. He put his bag in the back and keyed the remote to launch the transfer platform. He had just rolled on and locked his chair into place when Carly appeared beside him.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was high and frantic. But who knew if it was genuine?
“I’m leaving for the night. I’m not coming back until after you leave.” He lifted the bottle for another drink and noticed his hand trembling. As the platform lifted and retracted back into the car, the trembling spread to both hands. Exhaustion or emotions or a combination of both overwhelmed him so that he could barely think.
