Infinite Possibilities (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #2)(15)

Trust.

That is the word that comes to me. I trust him. Right or wrong, that is what he makes me feel. He has from the moment I met him. It could be instinct or stupidity. I’ve tried to think of it as the latter and make my own way. I went to sleep willing to live or die with Liam, and I am awake again, and I still feel that way. I have been alone so very long. Too long. And the truth is, there are answers to be found and he has the resources to find them.

He shifts slightly and his grip tightens around me, as if he’s afraid I’ll escape. As if he’s afraid this is a dream also. He nuzzles my neck and I lean into his touch as he murmurs, “You’re awake.”

His voice, soft silk, and deep, male sex appeal, radiates through me, and tells me this is real. He is real. And maybe, just maybe, everything I’ve felt for him, and with him, is too. “Yes,” I whisper, lifting my head and blinking him into view, his dark hair now a dried, finger-rumpled mess that somehow only makes him sexier. I stroke my fingers over the dark stubble on his jaw. “And you’re really here.”

“Mr. Stone?”

We both look up to find the flight attendant in the doorway to the cabin. “Please. I need her in her seat. We’re preparing to land. We need everyone buckled up.”

“Oh yes,” I quickly agree, scooting off of Liam’s lap. Or I try. He holds on to me.

“Not just yet.” He glances at the flight attendant. “Consider it done.”

Her lips purse but she takes his words for the dismissal that they are and departs.

Liam’s fingers lace into my hair and he drags my mouth to his for a long, drugging kiss. The landing gear churns from the belly of the plane and his lips reluctantly leave mine. “Now you can get up.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” the flight attendant chides tartly, jerking my gaze to where she has poked her head back into the cabin. “In a seat, please.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I scramble off of Liam’s lap, into the seat beside him to buckle up. The flight attendant disappears and Tellar appears in the doorway. “You have to sit down,” the flight attendant scolds from behind him.

Tellar lifts a hand. “I’m sitting. I’m sitting.” He claims the seat in front of me. “Jeez. Women. They really can be nags.”

My head prickles and an image of my brother saying the same thing flickers in my mind. I swallow hard and shove aside the image, but somehow I repeat what I’d said to Chad so long ago. “Men. They really can be pains in the backside.”

Tellar snorts and looks at Liam. “You’re right. She looks sweet, but she’s feisty. I think I should make friends before I get my ass kicked. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Tellar. Tellar Phelps.”

I don’t even know how to introduce myself. Hi, I’m a dead girl named Lara? I’m the fake girl named Amy? “Tellar is an interesting name,” I say, doing the avoidance thing I do almost as well as I tell the lies I despise so much.

“Interesting is one way of putting it. My father was military. He and my uncles loved the whole ‘Tell her you love her. Tell her she’s beautiful. Tell her--”

“What she wants to hear,” I supply without even meaning to. It just sort of happens and so does the ache in my gut that comes with the idea that he or Liam might be doing just that.

Liam grabs my hand and his is strong and warm. He laces his fingers with mine, drawing my gaze to his, as he says, “I won’t keep the truth from you, no matter how brutal. You have my word.”

But he hadn’t told me everything in Denver and unbidden, a memory smashes into me. I can handle Amy. It had been those cold words that made me sound like a puppet he controlled and had made me feel that what I’d overheard had been more than Liam just snooping around. I try to jerk my hand from Liam’s.

He held onto it, his eyes narrowing. “What just happened?”

“Nothing just happened.” But I don’t want to say more and I don’t want to go where these thoughts are taking me. I want to stay in the land of trust and temptation.

“Something just happened,” Liam counters.

The plane jumps and shakes and out of nowhere a wave of nausea overcomes me. I lean forward, almost doubling over and unhook my belt. Liam’s hand comes down on my back. “Amy.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, unhooking my belt. “I just...I need a minute.” I’m on my feet, darting to my left before he can stop me.

Somehow, I make it to the bathroom without heaving and shove inside the tiny room, shutting the door. The plane shudders again and I struggle with the lock, almost feeling myself turn green, and I give up on the door. Turning, I hang over the tiny toilet, knots balling in my gut. A metal taste forms in my mouth and I gag, but there is nothing to come up. I can’t even remember the last time I ate.

“Amy?” Liam says from the hallway and I squeeze my eyes shut, angry that his caring matters to me. Angry that I’ve convinced myself to trust him without knowing all the facts. I’m just this stupid young girl who isn’t young anymore. I can’t keep using that excuse.

“Amy. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I manage, noting the urgency in his voice and grabbing the sink to blink my ratty, horrible hair into view. I might not know who the girl in the mirror is anymore, but she sure looks like something the dog dragged in.