“You know, baby, I’m really trying not to read too much into the fact that you’re displaying an unusual amount of interest in my lawyer. Is there something we need to talk about?” I go all gooey inside. Jealous Lucian is seriously adorable and even hotter than usual. I want to beg him to throw me back on the countertop and fuck me…hard. However, I hold it together. Partly because I know he doesn’t want to be late to meet with the police, and also because I feel strange about begging for sex after my meltdown just hours earlier. Something must surely be wrong with me lately because I’m either crying or horny. There doesn’t seem to be much middle ground right now. I settle for wrapping my arms around his waist and grinning innocently up at him.
“Come on, Luc; work with me here. If I’m not interested in Max for myself…which I’m not in the slightest, then why would I be asking questions about his personal life?” He absently rubs circles on my back as he ponders my question. I see the exact moment the dots all connect for him.
“No, Lia,” he says sternly as he begins shaking his head at me. “We aren’t meddling in Max’s love life. Besides, he thinks your friend is off her rocker.”
“Lucian…” I pout. “Don’t you think there’s something there? I mean, look at how crazy he acts where she is concerned.”
“And you think acting crazy is a good thing?” He takes my hand and starts pulling me toward the front door. “I mean it, baby; we’re not getting in the middle of those two.” I try to hide my smirk as he closes the door behind us and we walk into the elevator.
“I promise I’ll be good,” I say sweetly. “I will be good; I just can’t guarantee Rose will be.”
Lucian
True to Max’s prediction, our interview by Detectives Michaels and Haynes is brief and uniform. I get the feeling without her putting it into words that their department doesn’t like expending valuable time and resources on someone like Jim Dawson. With the testimony that first Lia, and then her mother, provided the police, they have a clear picture of the type of person he was. Unless someone runs up and down the street in front of the police station yelling ‘I’m guilty,’ this case will be closed in short order.
I was proud of Lia. She answered each of Detective Michaels’ questions clearly and concisely. When the detective was leaving, she dropped a hand on Lia’s shoulder, saying, “This wasn’t exactly the way I had planned to get justice for you, but…” I was sure the other woman wanted to add something like, ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways,’ but she refrained from it. I thanked Max for allowing us to use his home and rushed Lia out the door before she could arrange a double-date with him.
I’ll admit I was a bit pissed when she started quizzing me about him earlier. She’s never asked me that many questions about Aidan or even Sam. I haven’t felt jealousy over a woman in many years, and even though I enjoyed the normalcy of it, I didn’t want to feel that way again where Lia was concerned. She was mine and I wasn’t letting her go.
She had worried me earlier when she’d first been so resistant to the news that her stepfather was dead, and then she had completely snapped when it finally hit her. People process grief in different ways, and I know that venting was her way. Her grief was not for Jim Dawson, but for the death of her innocence all of those years ago at his hands. At some point in their lives, every person carrying around rage inside eventually needs an outlet to purge it from their system. Lia had been fueled by hate for so long that the crash was inevitable.
I’m not naive enough to believe that just because he’s dead everything is suddenly perfect in her world. Her childhood was ripped from her hands, and she’ll never be able to fully erase the scars that were left behind. I also know that it’s ironic that I’m sitting here pondering her ghosts when I haven’t dealt with my own. I plan to start taking steps in that direction tomorrow, though. I’ve arranged to meet my aunt at the coffee shop down the street in the morning. I am going to tell her about my cocaine addiction and ask her to help me overcome it. I’ve long denied to myself that I’m an addict just because I don’t use every day, which is bullshit. If I wasn’t addicted, I would be able to walk away from it…and I can’t. I have to find the strength for myself and for Lia to leave my crutch behind. It has enabled me for years to push my demons aside instead of dealing with them. To be the person she deserves, I have to be the person I once was before Cassie and I ruined each other’s lives.
After I speak with my aunt tomorrow, I plan to talk to Lia about Cassie. It’s time she knew the complete story there. It’s not fair that I constantly preach full disclosure on her thoughts and feelings, yet I continue to avoid any of her questions about my past. What she must think I can only imagine, but sadly, I fear it’s not even close to the web of lies, hate, and betrayal that consumed my last year with Cassie. For all of the hate I feel for her, I know I’m to blame, as well. It’s likely that my actions were even the catalyst for her final break with reality. Some would call it survivor’s guilt, and I suppose that analogy is correct in a way. Out of Cassie, our child, and myself, I’m the only one who really still lives. Cassie may be alive, but she has been so lost in her own mind for the last eight years that she may as well have been dead. I think, in the end, as evil as she had become, she couldn’t deal with what she did so she retreated in the only way she knew.
“Luc…Luc…LUCIAN!” I jerk as Lia pokes me in the side. “Good grief, where did you go?” she jokes as I focus my thoughts on her. Sometimes it’s rather scary how you can drive a car for miles and be so deep in thought that you don’t remember the trip. I wonder if Lia was talking to me, while I’ve been ignoring her.
“Sorry, baby,” I say lightly as I shift the Range Rover into park and cut the engine. As usual, Lia had joked that she couldn’t believe I was driving and not having Sam take us in the Mercedes. I noticed Sam and Cindy leaving the office together earlier, so I didn’t think he would appreciate being disturbed on his date…or whatever the hell they do together. I don’t even want to go there. “I was just thinking over everything that has happened today.” I want to take those words back when I see her smile dim slightly. I’m sure the last thing she wanted was to have another postmortem on her stepfather.