Chapter 4 The rescue
RORY POV
I heard different sounds.
Through hearing aids. Quick, urgent footsteps, more than one set. And underneath them, smaller, faster, desperate.
I looked up.
A little boy was running like his life depended on it. Behind him, three men in suits were closing the gap fast. The boy couldn't have been more than six. His face was pure terror.
I was on my feet before I had made any decision to stand up.
I don't know why. I had nothing left. I was empty and wrung out and sitting on the steps of my ex fiancé's wedding with bite marks probably on my own hands.
But he was just a little boy.
I ran.
I grabbed his hand and ran.
There was a narrow gap between two buildings just ahead, it's barely wide enough for an adult but I spotted it and made the decision in half a second. I pulled him in and pushed us both flat against the wall, I angled my body in front of his own.
The sound of the men's footsteps got louder, then closer.
Then right outside.
I pressed my back harder against the wall.
The boy was completely still behind me. He didn't cry or make any sound. Like he had done this before or was too frightened to do anything at all. I could feel him trembling though. Small, quick shudders against my back.
I watched the gap carefully.
Two of the suited men walked past. One stopped almost directly in front of the gap and I held every muscle in my body completely still. He looked left. Then right. Then said something to the other one.
I read his lips through the narrow gap.
“We lost him.”
The other one said something back I couldn't catch.
The first one shook his head.
They stood there for another moment that felt much longer than it was.
Then they walked away.
I waited. Counted to thirty in my head.
Then I exhaled and turned around.
The boy was staring up at me with the biggest blue eyes I had ever seen. His hair falling across his forehead in strands, his cheeks flushed from running. His clothes were expensive, Small neat buttons. Expensive fabric. The kind of outfit that didn't belong in this narrow gap.
We looked at each other for a moment.
"They're gone," I said.
He didn't respond, he just kept those blue eyes on my face.
I crouched down to his level.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded slowly.
"Do you know how to get home?"
He shook his head.
I looked at him carefully. "How did you get here? Do you know?"
His hands moved.
Sign language. Clean and confident for someone so small. I watched them carefully.
"They took me. I got away when they stopped for fuel."
I felt something cold move through me.
Took him. This child had been taken by those men and had managed to slip away at a petrol station and had been running ever since.
"Okay," I signed back. "You're safe now. I've got you."
Something in his face shifted when he realized I understood him. The trembling slowed down a little.
He signed again.
"Why are you crying?"
I touched my face without thinking. I hadn't even realized. Old tears dried on my cheeks from the wedding steps. I must have looked absolutely insane, a puffy eyed woman in her clothes dragging him into a gap between buildings.
"It's nothing," I signed.
He gave me a look that was far too skeptical for a six year old.
I almost smiled despite everything.
"I had a really bad day," I signed.
He waited. Patient in the way that children sometimes were when they actually wanted to know something.
I don't know why I told him. Maybe because he was six and couldn't judge me.
Maybe because he was the first person who had actually asked me today how I was. Maybe because I was just so tired of carrying it alone.
I told him everything. The job. My boss.
Steve. Katherine. The wedding. The steps outside.
He listened to every word with those serious blue eyes.
When I finished he was quiet for a moment.
Then he spoke.
Out loud. An actual voice, small and careful like he was testing it.
"Can I give you a new husband?"
I looked at him in shocked.
"What?"
"A new husband," he said again. More confident this time. Like the words were coming back to him from somewhere. "Mine. My dad."
I didn't know what to say to that. I genuinely didn't know what to say to that.
"What's your name?" I managed finally.
"Liam."
"Liam," I repeated. "How old are you?"
He held up six fingers.
"Right." I looked at this six year old who had just offered me his father like it was the most reasonable solution in the world. "And does your dad know you're out here offering him to strangers?"
Liam shook his head. Then held out his hand "Phone," he said simply.
"Excuse me?"
He pointed at my jacket pocket where my phone was visible. Then held his hand out again. He was so patient with it.
Completely certain I was going to give it to him.
I handed it over because apparently I had lost complete control of this situation.
He took it and turned slightly away from me and started dialing like he had done it a hundred times. I watched the back of his dark head, completely baffled, the wedding and Mr. Smith and all of it temporarily pushed aside by the sheer bizarreness of this moment.
A six year old was calling his father to offer him to me as a replacement husband.
On the worst day of my life.
I pressed my lips together.
And for the first time in what felt like forever. I laughed. A real one.
Liam turned back around and handed me my phone.
I took it and waited for him to explain himself.
He signed.
“He’s coming”
I stared at him.
"Who is coming?"
“Dad”
I looked down at my phone. Then back at him.
"Liam." I kept my signing slow and deliberate. "I didn't agree to that. I don't - I don't even know your father."
He blinked at me. Unbothered, like he couldn't care less.
"He's nice," he said out loud. Testing his voice again. Like he was getting reacquainted with it.
"That's — that's not the point."
"You saved me," he said simply. Like that settled everything. Like saving him had come with terms and conditions he had already read on my behalf and signed for me.
I picked up my bag.
"Okay Liam, it was really lovely meeting you and I'm glad you're safe but I'm going to wait with you until someone responsible comes and then I'm going to-"
He grabbed my hand.
Both of his small hands wrapped around two of my fingers and he just held on. Not aggressively. Not desperately. Just held on with complete calm like he had already decided and was simply waiting for me to catch up.
I looked down at his hands.
Then at his face.
Those blue eyes were steady and patient and completely certain.
"My dad is coming," he said again.
I opened my mouth. I closed it.
I sat back down.
Fine. I would wait until his father came, make sure Liam was safely handed over and then I would leave and go home and get into my bed and pull the covers over my head and then I would leave and go home and get into my bed and pull the covers over my head and not come out until next week.
That was the plan.