I want him to remember, remember me. The things we’ve been through, the life-shattering moments that have happened between us. He needs to remember. I can’t remember it all by myself, someone else needs this burden that I carry. He’s in the same position he was in the first time I walked into his house all those years ago. He’s at the stove, and the only thing he has on is a towel wrapped around his waist. “Rose,” he says, and it makes me smile. My name coming from those lips. “Liam,” I retort back to him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He turns so he’s facing me, his back up against the kitchen bench. “Just wanted to stop by, you ran out fast this morning.” “I’m glad you did.” He descends on me, it’s like a tiger eyeing his prey. Am I ready for what he can give me? His hand wraps around my wrist, I look down to his large hand, thinking about what damage those hands do. His ribs are purple with color, his lip has a slight cut to it. All the bad he carries, and I still want him.
