Seven Letter Words #Wattys2016

Part 18

Juliet

I lay in bed that night, waiting after my shower while Liam took his. I thought about everything he'd said to me in the hot tub and what my options were. I wished I could talk to Ken, but then I already knew what he'd say. Liam was right. Garrett showed me who he was and I could either see it, or pretend I was blind. I might tell good stories, but I wasn't into that kind of pretending.

I typed out a text to Garrett telling him I didn't want him to contact me anymore. Then I blocked his number so he couldn't get through to my phone. I tossed it onto the nightstand beside the bed without even bothering to charge it. I wanted to block out the rest of my life while I was stuck in this suspended motion until Ken's last wish was carried out. Everything else could wait.

I reached for the remote and clicked on the small box TV in the room. I settled on some crime show that was on and tucked a pillow beneath my head. I'm not sure how familiar you are with grief, but for me, a really hard part was knowing that one day your life would have to go back to the way it was. Only something was going to be missing. I'd have to wake up and get ready for school. I'd have to walk down the same halls there that he had, and sit in the classrooms of the teachers who had taught him. At night I'd have to go home to house that would always feel empty no matter how many things we filled it with.

The bathroom door clicked open and a puff of hot, misty air floated over my body as Liam stepped out and into the room. He had on a pair of workout shorts and an old green undershirt like my brother always wore. His hair was still wet, and his cheeks were flushed a little pink from the heat of his shower. The second wave released steam carried with it the clean fresh scent of men's soap. I closed my eyes for a second and breathed it in. I know girls always worry about how they might smell; leading to endless bottles of lotions and perfumes, but the best smell I can think of is that crisp clean scent of a freshly showered man. There was simply nothing better.

"Always the shoes. Fucking idiot." His words tumbled around in my head and when they still didn't make sense, I rolled over onto my stomach so I could look at him as he stood just outside the bathroom at the sink. He was putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and shaking his head.

"Shoes? Did I miss something?"

He paused, his toothbrush resting in his mouth much like a cigarette would in an old military photo. His eyes met mine in the mirror and his brows furrowed. "The show." He pointed to the TV's reflection in the mirror. "The murderers are always too stupid to figure out they can track you by your shoes." He grabbed the end of his toothbrush and started brushing.

"I wasn't really paying attention to it." I folded my arms and rested my chin on them so I could watch him in the mirror. He watched me back until he bent down to spit. I didn't look at how nicely his shorts fit...for very long. I barely noticed his strong legs beneath his shorts, or the way his back grew even broader as he moved to turn off the water.

"It's always the same. They have all these specialists that take samples of the smallest shit. A fiber from a carpet or maybe a tiny drop of some fluid left at the scene. They get all this data, but don't have anyone to pin it on. Then some rookie cop will walk around the outside of the house and there it is. Some partial print of a stupid shoe sole and the whole damn case will be solved."

I smiled at him and he turned around, leaning back against the small sink. He folded his arms and the motioned to the TV with his chin. I flipped back over and my back to watch. Sure enough, some old retired policeman was talking about the night he found the imprint of a work boot outside in the mud beneath the victim's window.

"You watch these a lot?" I asked through a light laugh.

"Not a lot of other shit going on when I'm on duty at the barracks. I think I've probably seen them all. I don't know if there have been any new episodes of this show since the nineties." He pushed off the counter and dropped his items back into his bag. There was a knock at the door and we both looked at each other to see if maybe we were expecting someone. I moved to get up, but Liam shook his head and moved to the hotel door.

I watched as he positioned himself so that no one could push their way in. I wondered if he was always that untrusting, or if it was something that was a product of his training and experience. "Hello," he said and I could see the minute he decided the visitor wasn't a threat. His whole body relaxed and he put his arm up and leaned against it.

I heard the voice of the lady from the front desk, "I just wanted to drop something off to say congratulations." Liam moved to take something from her, but I saw the way his head cocked a little and worried he might forget that we were supposed to be newly married. I practically jumped from the bed to get to him before he could say anything.

"Congrat---" he was about to question her, but I reached around his waist to hold him and pushed up on my tiptoes so that I could rest my chin on his shoulder.

"That's so sweet! Honey, isn't that sweet?" I gushed. The lady had brought us an old bottle of champagne and a few strawberries.

"I know you aren't old enough to drink yet, but I don't think a little sip would hurt on such a special night. Just leave the glasses in the room in the morning and I'll be sure to pick them up.

"Thank you," Liam finally remembered his manners and of course our small lie.

"You're welcome. I hope it's the first night of many, many, years. You guys are just too cute." She waved her hand around and then turned to go back to her post in the lobby.

I released my hold on Liam and he turned around, a bottle in one hand and a small tray with strawberries and two champagne flutes in the other. I couldn't help the small giggle that fell from my lips. If I could've snapped a picture of him right then, it would have made the hottest romance book cover ever. No store would be able to keep that book on the shelf.

"What just made your cheeks turn so pink?" he asked with a trace of suspicion.

"Just some silly little thought in my head," I answered quickly, waving him off and grabbing the tray.