“Eyes are up here, Rosie,” he says with a rare smirk. “How did you sleep? You were too drunk to sleep alone so I made you sleep in my bed. Sorry.”
Oh, thank God. I really didn’t want to deal with him finding out I sleep here every night while feeling like death warmed over.
“Here,” he says, holding out his hand to me. “I brought you some more Tylenol. You had two before going to bed; you should be good to take a couple more. I think you still have water left in your bottle.” He lifts his chin toward the nightstand.
Grateful, I wordlessly take the pills he holds out and gulp down some water, still not saying a word.
“Thank you,” I say with a hoarse voice, clearing my throat and taking another sip of water. I sit up straighter, throw my legs over the edge of his bed, dreading what I’m about to ask. “Do I want to know how drunk I got last night?”
“Let’s just say I’m more than impressed that you can still perform all the moves to all three High School Musical movies . . . and at how high your vocal range is,” he says, actually trying to hold back a laugh. It’s a rare sight to see him laugh.
“Arggggh,” I say, throwing myself back on his bed with my hands over my face, trying to hide my embarrassment.
“It wasn’t that bad, Rosie,” he says in a soft tone I’ve barely ever heard come from him. And again with that damn nickname. It makes my insides melt. “I promise, it was nothing bad. If anything, it was cute,” he continues in the softest tone.
This time, it isn’t the nickname that makes my insides melt, it’s his fingers softly pushing my hair off my forehead. The sparks that run down my spine make it impossible not to shiver. If he notices, though, he doesn’t let on, just keeps softly running his fingers through my messy hair.
“I promise it wasn’t that bad,” he says. “I’ve seen both Ronan and Cassie way more drunk than that. If anything, it was entertaining. You kept me smiling all night.”
Who is this and what happened to Liam?
He’s never been one to be sweet or overly touchy, yet here he is,almostforgetting that I’m his best friend’s younger sister. And here I am, forgetting that he’s shirtless. Instead of taking in his shirtless form, I hide behind my hands like a little girl. Unable to stop myself, I let out another huff.
“Sloane, I promise it wasn’t bad at all,” he reassures me again in that soft tone I don’t know what to do with. If he wasn’t playing with my hair exactly the way I like, I’d be put off by it. But like a cat in heat, I keep my eyes closed and tilt my head closer to him.
We don’t say anything for what feels like forever.
I don’t ever want to leave this bed; I can’t remember ever being this relaxed. Between two cross country moves, an undergraduate degree, a master’s degree, and starting my PhD, I haven’t found the time to just relax. I haven’t mentally stopped in the last seven years. Even when I’m reading for fun, I’m still not relaxed—my shoulders always seem so tense. Not right now though. I’m currently melting into a puddle at Liam’s touch.
Unfortunately, my bliss doesn’t last long as we’re interrupted by my brother, and very quickly, the soft sparks floating along my scalp and spine all meet in a volcano of embarrassment on my cheeks.
To my utter surprise, instead of freaking out that I’m in Liam’s bed—with a shirtless Liam standing rather close to me—he just casually says, “Oh, there you both are. Breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” Then, he leaves just as casually as he appeared.
What. The. Hell.
This has to be some kind of drunk dream. There’s no way my brother would be cool with this, even with Liam and I living together—platonically, I might add. But more importantly, there’s no way on God’s green Earth that Liam would ever be this nice and attentive with me. Did we turn a corner in the last week? Yes. Had he made more signs for my plants? Yes.
And okay, we have eaten super and watched a movie together every night this week, but this . . . sitting in bed together, running his fingers through my hair . . . is not normal Liam and Sloane behavior. Even beforeThe incidentthis was not normal Sloane and Liam behavior.
Chapter 16
Sloane flew out of my room, without a word, as if Ronan lit the sheets on fire. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I thought we were having a moment. I thought we had crossed a bridge over the past week, and she’d be comfortable with me. But I guess I crossed a line. She can sneak into my bed every night, but I can’t comfort her. I swear, this woman. The minute I think I’m making headway with her, I fuck it up.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck, I chant, as I drop my head into my hands. That kiss seven years ago changed everything. It scared the living hell out of me, but it also got me thinking and feeling. I quickly realized that maybe she hadn’t been completely wrong in kissing me. Yet, I got the hint when she didn’t talk to me for seven straight fucking years that I fucked up. It was seven years of hell, if I’m being honest. I’m surprised Ronan never told me to shut up with the amount of times I asked about her. Then, as luck would have it, I had to move in with her and her damn smell. That damn smell that drives me fucking crazy.
“Yo, Liam, you coming?” I hear Ronan yell from the kitchen. “Breakfast is ready!”
I have zerodesire to go play nice with Sloane right now. She’s clearly just putting up with me because of Ronan, not because she wants me around or wants to spend time with me.
With my mood soured, I grab an old sweater from the dresser I’ve been using and hobble my way into Sloane’s kitchen, where everyone is waiting for me. My mood worsens and I feel my usual frown—one that hasn’t really been present over the last week—settle onto my face as I see where Sloane is sitting. She’s not in her usual seat at the table. Instead of sitting in the spot directly across from mine, which is still empty, she’s sitting beside me, and Cassie is sitting in her spot in front of me. So, instead of being able to read her face—to see if she ran out of my room because of Ronan, because of me, or worse, because she finally saw the scars—I’m left stuck with questions.
I’ve been careful to always wear a shirt, even when I sleep, but I completely forgot this morning. I was too preoccupied with the thought of Sloane willingly sleeping in my bed. I didn’t want to miss her waking up, and I’m happy I didn’t. The way her nose scrunched up and her eyebrows met in the middle, as if she was mad that she was waking up. Then, the way her cheeks reddened at the realization that she was still in my bed, which darkened as she took in my shirtless body. But then, she threw her hands over her eyes, probably spotting the marks the road rash left on the left side of my body.
“You good there, Liam?” Cassie asks, pulling me out of my spiralling thoughts. “Are you in pain? Do you needanything?” She quickly gets out and starts to make her way to me.
Forever a nurse, that one.
“I’m fine. Why?” I ask shortly, pissed that Sloane is clearly trying to avoid me. I’ve been looking at her since I joined them in the kitchen, but she hasn’t looked my way once.
