ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴄᴋᴇᴛᴇᴇʀ

Sixty-Four | ʟɪᴀᴍ

Liam awoke to the gentle repetitive tap of a blackbird's beak against the bedroom windowpane. It landed on the ledge most every early morning, that blackbird, and tapped the glass in a soft, staccato rhythm, as if to remind Liam that it was past time to open the heavy drapes and let in the weak, English sunlight. And every morning, the moment he shoved the drapes aside, the blackbird flew away, its job done.

Head atop his pillow, Liam opened his right eye by a sliver. His vision blurred, he saw Rose standing before the mirror above his chest of drawers, buttoning the back of a pale blue dress. His eyelids fluttered to clear the haze of sleep, and he watched her with a lazy, contented smile.

“And just what d'ya think you're doing?” he teased, propping himself up on his elbows.

Rose spun around in surprise. “Good morning to you, too,” she responded with a smile of her own. “And isn't it obvious? I'm getting dressed.”

“Who told ya t'do that, eh?” Liam asked, his tone playful. “Come back to bed. It's still early.”

Rose smirked at him and put a hand on her hip. “It's not, actually. It's gone seven. I should think it best we were up and about before the household or Teddy wakes.”

“Gone seven?” Liam repeated, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Is it really?” He was stunned. Traditionally such a light sleeper, it was hard to fathom that he'd slept through Rose getting out of bed. Especially if the sun had already risen. The relief of their success with Jimmy the previous night had lifted a significant weight from his mind. That, paired with his passionate union with Rose, must have sent him into blissful oblivion. Thinking back, Liam couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well.

“Yes, really,” Rose affirmed. Finished with her buttons, she glided across the room and came to a halt before him. “You were dead to the world, so I let you sleep. I think you needed it. I, on the other hand, have already had a bath.”

He reached out to grasp her hand and gently tugged her closer. “That's why you smell like my soap,” he remarked.

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Seemed silly to return to my room for a bath when you have such a large, luxurious tub in your en suite.” She perched on the edge of the bed beside him and ran her hand across his cheek.

Leaning into her touch, Liam encircled her waist in his arms and pulled her down next to him. “Come back to bed,” he coaxed. “I'll make it worth your while.”

After a moment of half-hearted protest, Rose settled in his arms. Her fingers softly brushed across the skin of his bare chest, coming to rest on the tattoo that occupied his left pectoral muscle. “Are you ever going to tell me what this means?” she asked, tracing the various circles of aged ink with the tip of her forefinger.

Liam didn't discuss the history of that tattoo. Not with anyone. The story behind it was for him alone. Yet without the conscious decision to answer, he heard himself say, “I got it before I went to war. Right after Katya passed on. The circles represent family, all aspects, all pieces. That small one in the center is in remembrance of me mum. The slightly larger one around it is for Audrey. The next one, Ransom. The next, Jackson. This large one on the very outside, well… It was for Katya. It's an incomplete circle because Katya died before I could make her part of me family. She woulda been me wife, had she lived. But she didn't. Therefore, in memory of her, this last circle will always be broken.”