Because nothing tastes right. Nothing feels right.
Teddy’s voice cuts through my daze.
“How would you and Liam feel about bumping up the trip to my place in Texas? I’m missing my lady something fierce, and I don't think I can go much longer without her at my side.”
My heart stutters.
“Oh, I, um?—”
“We can move up the trip,” Liam says from behind me.
His voice is flat and emotionless. I stiffen but don’t turn around. I wonder how long he’s been there.
Teddy claps his hands together. “Excellent! I’ll let Bessie know!”
I turn to Liam and find his face carved from stone.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
Not a touch. Not a glance. Just cold, clipped words that cut me deeper than a knife.
I nod because I don't trust my voice. It would be so easy to react the way he wants me to. He’s told me all about it. How his mother and father would fight. How Carl knew just what to sayto push her buttons. That’s exactly what’s happening here. He wants me to say something so he can put the blame on me.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
We say our goodbyes. We walk side by side toward the parking lot. But he doesn’t reach for my hand. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even look my way. The space that used to be filled with laughter, with heat, with love is now a canyon. And for the first time since I met Liam Stone I realize he might never come back to me.
But I have to at least try.
“You have to know,” I say, my voice shaking but sure. “Your father is just trying to get under your skin.”
He keeps walking, doesn’t slow, doesn’t turn.
“Phern told me he asked Sam for money,” I press, chasing after him. “That’s all this is, Liam. It’s a game. It’s always been a game with him.”
Liam reaches his truck. Doesn’t open my door like he usually would. He just yanks open the driver’s side, climbs in, and slams the door shut behind him. I scramble in too, heart pounding, fumbling with my seatbelt as he starts the engine.
The silence is suffocating.
“Liam, please,” I whisper. “Talk to me.”
“I don't have anything to say,” he mutters, staring straight ahead.
But I do. I have everything to say.
“I saw you,” I say, my voice cracking. “With that blonde. Flirting.”
His jaw tics, but he doesn't respond.
“Did that make you feel better?” I ask, my voice rising. Hell, I’m only human and seeing them together hurt. So much. “Did it make you feel like a man again? Like you had power?”
Nothing.
“You know,” I say, bitter laughter bubbling up like acid. “That's exactly the kind of thing your father used to do to your mother. Flirt with every woman in a twenty-mile radius just to remind her she was disposable.”
The truck jerks slightly as he turns onto the main road. But still no apology. No explanation.
Instead, he mutters, “There's one small difference.”
