He picks his gaze up with a raised brow. “What?”
Oh. Dammit. The stoop route was a bold strategy.
“You said I had a fake conversation on your stoop, but a stoop implies stairs and a platform.”
“Yes, Peaches, and what did you use to get up here?” he asks in a slow, deliberate manner like he’s interacting with a child, although I guess I did just act like one, so fair.
“Outside. I feel like stoops have to be outside.” At this point, I’m grasping at straws, but arguing about stoops is better than acknowledging the word vomit from hell I just spewed, or the fact that Liam is now leaning in a doorjamb shirtless, arms crossed, muscles flexed, like he’s some smug movie star who knows he gets the girl in the end. Le nope, not dealing with that mess.
He massages the bridge of his nose. “Evie, what do you want?”
Oh. Okay. Old Liam would have let the argument go a bit.
“Clare had this suggestion—well, multiple suggestions—but—” Yeah. No. I can’t—I can’t be here with him looking like that while I’m untethered. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I give up.” I sigh, shuffling back to the spiral staircase I barely conquered on my ascent, dust kicking up around my feet.
“Where are you going?” he asks, straightening his stance.
“Home. Away. I don’t know. But not here.”It never should have been here.I grab the banister with both hands, forcing a step down as the pain in my abdomen radiates past the crook of my inner thigh and shoots down my leg into my calf. I plant my left leg on a lower step, and a strong tremor works its tendrils through while I transfer my weight on it. A sharp intake rattles my teeth, bringing my right foot down to the next step, and I twist my face into a neutral, pain-free expression.
“You said you needed me.”
“Yes, and your response was to shut the door in my face, so clearly that was a mistake.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t even try to convince me that isn’t what happened.”
“I needed a second.”
“Why?” I stop, humoring him.
His bored stare drops as he motions to my shirt with wild eyes. A string of consonants emits from his lips like somehow he’s equally tortured right now.
Glancing down, an internal light bulb sheds some illumination—however dimly—on the situation. My white shirt is plastered to my skin, the black bra underneath fully visible, breasts spilling over because it’s one of those days. And apparently in my tipsy state, I didn’t even bother to button it up the whole way before I left.
My fingers tremble trying to fasten the neglected buttons. “I’m sorry, I—uhm—yeah, nobody wants to see that.”
“That’s not the problem.” Liam groans, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes like he’s trying to unsee everything.
“Forget it. This was easily the stupidest idea in the history of ideas anyway.” I shake my head and take another step.
“So you’re just going to leave, then?” I swear there’s a half second where this anxious energy flickers across Liam’s features, but I don’t know. I’m not in the right head space to overanalyze his facial expressions.
“That is a thing I’m going to do, yes,” I huff, descending a few more.Shit, that smarts.
“Evie.” He picks his lean up off the door. “How are you planning on walking home if you can’t manage the stairs right now?”
I wave him off. “It’s fine, I’ve walked home in worse shape.” Would sitting and resting be super helpful? Sure, but I’ll do whatever it takes to exit this situation quickly. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. There’s a lot going on right now, and I’m obviously not thinking.”
Liam clasps the edge of the railing, locking his elbows as he leans over it, his dark brows slanted into a frown. “I’m sorry about how you found out about Clare and Holly.” The gentle apologetic tone halts my retreat. “I wanted him to tell you a month ago, but you know Caleb, he was worried and thought it’d be better if you had more support around you.”
“You’ve known for a month?” My voice breaks.
“A little longer than that, but yeah.” He releases the tension in his corded muscles, resting his forearms on the railing and peering down at my face. “Truly, Evie, I’m really sorry. That was a shit thing to hide.”
“I could have handled it.”
“Oh, I know.” I glance at him still hanging over the banister, a crooked smile quirking his lips, his left dimple imprinting his cheek. “If anyone else saw this side of you, I’m sure they’d realize you’re tougher than they give you credit for.”
