Catalyst (2 page)

Detectives tell me they’re working to solve the case, but without much evidence or any witnesses, they’re struggling. They say it was calculated, that the person knew Liam. The kill was personal. I feel worse knowing those details; I don’t want to know that someone wanted him dead.

I lie there for who knows how long. The tears eventually dry and crust over my face and my back hurts from lying on the floor. I let the cinch tighten once again on my heart, having felt all I could handle at that moment. Anger, loss, betrayal, and love soar through my veins and it’s wearing me down, minute by minute.

Footsteps are faintly growing louder as they approach and pull me out of my thoughts. I suspect it's Mr. Rhodes coming to kick me out, so I concentrate on envisioning us together, happy in our bed without a care in the world for the last few seconds of peace. Being in here without Liam right now feels like good-bye. We were never good at good-byes, always saying, “love you,” and “see you in a few.”

I think that was one of the hardest parts of the funeral and burial service. The finality of it. Watching the casket lower into the ground and he was gone. The service was beautiful, and from the people who spoke, it was obvious how many people experienced Liam’s kindness
.

As the service ended and people said their good-byes, I sat still as a statue, not knowing how to move on from that moment. The sun beat down on me and my forehead glistened with sweat, but it didn’t matter. I kept staring in front of me at the hole in the ground, where my sweet Liam was laid to rest. My thoughts wandered to all the other dead people buried in the cemetery, and it gave me the chills. Liam didn’t belong there. He belonged with me.

I was the last one to leave. The sun had started to set and the grounds manager offered to call someone so I wouldn’t be alone. I didn’t want anyone else, though. I just wanted to be with Liam forever.

A creak in the wood floors pulls me from my thoughts.

I feel a pull and want to stay a few minutes longer, but being in this room is also breaking my heart into teeny-tiny splinters. Whoever’s in the hallway is just a few seconds from barging in, and I take a deep breath, praying for strength.

“Ma’am? I just wanted you to know I’m going to be doing some measurements in the other rooms. No rush or need to leave. I didn’t want to startle you.” A deep, gravelly voice speaks behind me. It is faintly familiar, but I can’t pinpoint who it belongs to. I lift up onto my elbows and look toward the door, wondering who on earth could be here. “Oh. Tinsley?” he questions.

“Maguire? What the hell are you doing in here?” I ask with sincere confusion. We stare at each other for a few moments, uncertainty in both of our features. He takes the slightest step backward, and I know I probably offended him.

Maguire and I went to college together at Simonton. He was the All-American boy everyone knew was going to make the big bucks when he got older. He had a knack for technology and always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else.

Running his hand through his short brown hair, he sighs and tells me the news. “This is my place now. It’s close to work and has a killer backyard. I’m sorry if I sound rude, but why are you here? The guy outside said I could make myself at home and ignore any of the movers. He—he never said anything about you, though. Is he your family?”

Family. Such a simple world, yet so complex. Rick Rhodes was the closest thing to a “father figure” I’ve had over the past twenty years, but he was far from that. Liam was my family. My only family.

Maguire didn’t know me well enough back in college to know about the accident. He didn’t know that my father had fallen asleep at the wheel while driving my family to my brother’s soccer game. He didn’t know I was the only one who came out of it with just a broken arm and a concussion while everyone else died on impact. I was seven years old at the time. Liam knew. I had confided in him when he asked why I lived with my grandma. He also knew it was a subject not to bring up, except for when he broke his arm in the ATV accident and he said we were obviously meant to be together.

I sit up, feeling awkward for lying on what is now this man’s master bedroom floor. He probably thinks I’m a squatter. I cross my legs and process what he just told me.
He
lives here now? I should have known about this.

Looking around the room, I feel the walls closing in. My private moment with Liam is now gone, and I have the itch to run home to my dinky apartment. I’m not ready to speak to people and have normal conversations. Maguire waits patiently for me to answer. He really is easy on the eyes. I wonder if he knows the whole story.

“Not quite. I used to live here. I was just taking a minute to soak up the memories one last time before heading out. You’re free to go about your measuring. I can leave if you’d like or—?” Maguire holds up his hand.

“I barged in on you. I’ll come back tomorrow for the measuring. And Tinsley? If you lived here, I’m terribly sorry for what happened. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” He leaves without question, and my jaw is stuck open in shock over the past few minutes.

What the hell?

He knew. At least, he knew enough to put some of the pieces together.

I stare at the door for a while after he’s gone, listening to his quiet steps as he goes through two other rooms before shutting the front door. I lie back down on the carpet and close my eyes. Thoughts spiral through my head, only now they include Maguire moving into our place. It’s like an invasion of space. He didn’t know it, but he stole it out of my hands.

Resentment boils in my veins even though it isn’t his fault for being the new owner. Him being involved is just a coincidence within a mound of tragedy. Smiling at my surroundings, it is a nice place. Somewhere perfect for starting your life as an adult. It was why Liam had bought the home in the first place.

“Close your eyes. No peeking!” Liam chuckles as he guides me up two stairs and over the threshold. His toned chest hits my back as he continues to cover my eyes with both hands.

“I’m going to bust my ass, Liam!” I can’t contain my laughter as we awkwardly move into the house. “Can I see it now?” I whine as soon as we come to a stop.

“Not yet. Stay right there and keep your eyes closed. I’ll be right back.” I grin as I hear him run down what could be a hallway, stop for a few seconds, and then run back to me. His breath is heavier, but whether from exhaustion or anticipation, I’m not sure.

I have no idea what he’s up to, but his demeanor makes me giddy. Liam had mentioned moving out of his apartment into something bigger, but I didn’t realize he had already secured something.

His arm wraps around my shoulder and a flash of light goes off. “For real?”

“Open your eyes, Tins,” he says in a sultry voice near my ear. I ever so slowly open them and my mouth drops at what’s in front of me. “Does this mean when I go back to my apartment, it’ll look like I’ve been robbed?” I question.

He’s successfully moved all of our stuff from both apartments into a gorgeous two-story home with a massive family room that opens up to the kitchen. His couch and huge flat-screen TV are already in their perfect spots and my pots are hanging above the island in the kitchen. I’m awestruck.

Pulling up the photo on his phone, he shows me the selfie he took. I have my eyes closed and am making a scrunchy face and he’s cheesing to the camera with love and adoration in his eyes.

“How’d you—”

“I had help.”

“But when?”

“For the past two months. Any free time I had, it was here, getting it all ready. For the furnishings, if you pay a moving company enough money, they can be in and out in four hours. This is our home, our future. I love you, baby.” The kiss I get is one of those that leads to everything else. His hands are everywhere, and minutes later, I’m thrown onto his, scratch that, our bed.

“I’m the luckiest girl alive.”

That picture has been my screensaver on my phone for years now. I know every freckle by memory because I’ve stared at it so long. It’s ingrained in my brain so well I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to.

I miss being happy. I miss him.

After probably way too long, I finally get up off the floor and walk through the house one last time before leaving. Mr. Rhodes is long gone, and a note on the front door says to leave through the garage and that the new owners move in in two days.

I lock the place up and stare at the garage door a minute before working up the nerve to leave. When he said leave through the garage, I forgot I didn’t have a garage door opener with me anymore. I have to run and jump over the sensor after I push the button to get out of the garage before it closes on me. As a kid, I was a pro at this feat. Now, I feel like an out of shape burglar who just about got caught.

Three hours later, I’m effectively drunk at my own bar, thanks to my trusty best friend, Noah. We’ve been friends since sixth grade when some kids dared him to kiss me under the bleachers at a middle school soccer game. Noah and I have been through everything together; he knows I need another eighteen drinks before he closes up shop. He’ll take me home, where he’ll tuck me in bed and then sleep on my couch to make sure I don’t die before sunrise.

It works.

“You know, if you were a regular customer, the owner would have sent you home in a cab, oh, forty-five minutes ago. You’re giving our best customers the wrong impression, Tinsley. Old man Hodges over there has been watching you and adjusting his pants every few minutes,” Noah calmly states without looking at me. He just continues to wipe down the bar, even though it’s spotless.

Girls at the bar are always eye-fucking him. He’s clueless about it, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have game. He likes the girls who fly under the radar—he doesn’t like the girls who throw themselves at any cute guy. He likes the one who stays in the back, watching and listening quietly. The girl who pretends to be calm and quiet, even when she’s up against her more willing friends. He likes the challenge, the underdog.

He has this charm to him with his light scruff and slightly too long hair. Athletic but with some love to him. The kicker is that he cares. This boy goes out of his way to do good without ever questioning it.

This is why he’s my best friend. He gets me and I get him.

Right now, he’s calling a cab for old man Hodges while getting him a to-go cup of cranberry juice. As they both pass behind me, a weak hand grabs my ass and gives it an awkward squeeze. Noah slaps the old guy’s hand away, but the damage is done.

“Ugh,” I say when Noah’s back behind the bar. “At least I don’t have to worry about getting assaulted when I leave. What time is it, anyway?” I rub my eyes, feeling the effects of not sleeping well. Without Liam by my side at night, it’s been a rough few months.

“Almost one in the morning. Rodney said he’d close for me tonight.” He nods over to the side where Rodney is distracted on his phone. Noah’s cough effectively pulls him back to the real world and he gives us both a head nod. When his eyes meet mine, they’re filled with pity.

Oh, right. Everyone around here knows about my sad story and feels the need to “help out,” even when it isn’t what’s best for the business, my business. Noah always closes when he works.

“Why?” I ask, knowing the answer.

“He said he needed the extra cash and offered. I figured it would be good to get you home, so I agreed. It’s not what you think. We know you’re not going to break,” Noah attempts to confirm, but his hazel eyes are screaming pity for me. He tries to hide it, but it doesn’t work. I know him too well.

“Rodney! You’re a lifesaver,” I yell way too loud. My ears are pounding and everyone is now staring at me, the crazy lady who’s about to pass out from drunkenness and exhaustion. When Noah stays in front of me lingering instead of helping an older woman three stools down, I tell him, “I’m not going to break, you ass.” I scoff and keep my eyes straight ahead.

If I keep saying it, maybe it’ll come true.

Noah comes straight back to me after he gets the woman a vodka cranberry and continues on. “Uh-huh. So are you ever going back to Seasons 23? Josephine called me the other day and asked about you.” Noah leans in close. “They need an authoritative figure over there. At least keep me informed so I can delegate and keep the ship afloat.”

I don’t know what to say. My routine for the past four years was to spend at least one full day a week at each of my three bars, just to see how everything was running. Then I would disperse the rest of my time between meeting with new distributors, making sure we were utilizing the newest techniques and flavor combinations, and overall, just being around for my workers. I cringe at how my routine has changed. It took me a few weeks to find a suitable apartment, and all it did was enable me to be even more of a recluse. In that time, I’ve only visited two of my three bars once. Seasons 23 was where—was where it happened. I purposely avoid the street it’s on just so I don’t have to be near it. Physically, I don’t think I can go in there again.

“I might sell Seasons,” I say as calmly as possible while I wait for his reaction.

“What! Why? It was your first. Your baby.”

I give him an incredulous look.

“I mean I obviously know why. But why not be a silent owner or whatever? Like a silent investor, but with you still being the big boss and shit.” Noah always sees the bigger picture. Right now, though, I’d rather turn out the lights.

“I’ll never be able to step inside there again.” I sigh in defeat and pain. I won’t ever forget seeing poor Liam’s bloodied body with two gunshot wounds to the chest in that small room.

“Will you at least let me look over it for you? I love Josephine and all, but I don’t trust her to keep things in order.”

“If you want. Fine by me. Why don’t you like her?” She’s always been sweet and professional around me.

“Her lover’s quarrels. She’s always with the wrong dudes, and after they break up, it seems like the fights always happen there in front of customers.”