Chapter 17
I used to dream, to fantasize, about Liam kissing me like that. As if kissing me wasn’t an option but an indescribable need. Part of me—the young, naive part—is jumping for joy that Liam just grabbed me and gave me the kind of kiss you only read about. But the older, mature, once-heart-broken-over-Liam-Jones part of me, doesn’t want anything to do with him.
I know what it’s like to love him in secret, and it destroyed me before, when he so easily let me walk away from him, without a second glance. I can’t go through the same thing again. This time it will be different, though, because when he leaves, I’ll know what it’s like to be fully consumed—wanted by Liam Jones.
I can’t fall for him again.Did you really ever stop loving him?
That question—the what if’s and trying to decide where I go from here—keeps me tossing and turning in my bed, unable to fall asleep. It doesn’t help that Gigi didn’t follow me, choosing instead to stay with Liam.
What does it even matter if I’m developing feelings for Liam? He lives hours away. He’sjust here for his physiotherapy. He’s here because he had no other choice; he didn’t choose to live here, or be here. Life put him here against his wishes . . .
My thoughts are silenced by my bedroom door squeaking open, offset shuffling footsteps, and Gigi’s nails tapping on the hardwood floor. Without a word, Liam pulls the blanket back and gets into bed with me. He pulls me back into his chest, and my body immediately relaxes.
“I know you’re not sleeping,” he says softly, combing my hair with his fingers so it’s no longer in his face. “I could hear you thinking from my room.”
The fact that he still knows me so well has tears springing into my eyes. If I’m being honest with myself, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t relax because I wouldn’t let my mind go where it wanted to go the most—to the idea of having Liam all to myself . . . forever.
What if I hadn’t drunkenly thrown myself at him when I was barely eighteen? What if he had gotten to see me as a woman, instead of a kid he taught how to tie her shoes? Would he have eventually wanted to kiss me like he did earlier? Did my teenage exuberance ruin what could have been? Did my impatience mean I lost years with him for no reason because I thought he didn’t have the potential to love me back?
“I can still hear you thinking,” he softly says, pulling me impossibly closer. “Do you want me to leave?”
I shake my head no.
“Okay, how about I just tell you what’s happened to me over the last seven years?” he asks. Instead of answeringhim with words, I lace my fingers through his, giving them a squeeze.
“I was so taken aback when you kissed me. I can honest-to-God say I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” I stiffen at his words, but he continues. “Not because I saw you as a little sister, or because you wereRonan’syounger sister, but because I truly just saw you as a friend—as I see Cassie. The only difference is, Cassie wouldn’t have kissed me like that, and there’s no way in hell I would have kissed her back. It wasn’t the fact that you kissed me that freaked me out back then, it was the fact thatI kissed youthat had me pushing you away. I couldn’t wrap my head around why I was kissing you—why I almostneededto kiss you.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many words come out of Liam, or that much emotion. So, instead of talking, I squeeze his fingers and try to pull him impossibly closer to me, making him snake his other arm under my head.
He drops a silent kiss to the back of my head before continuing. “So, I pushed you away. I needed to get my thoughts in order. You were young and drunk and I was hit with emotions and wants that had never even crossed my mind before. So, I did what I do best—I was an ass to you. I knew it was wrong, but I needed to wrap my brain around what had just happened before I could properly talk to you. And then, when I woke up, you were just gone. I figured you needed a few days to cool off—I knew I needed a few days to figure out what the hell was going on. To say you shocked me that night would be an understatement,” he says, with a small laugh.
I had no idea he felt that way. All this time, all these years, I assumed he wanted nothing to do with me because of my age, because of Ronan, because he just wasn’t attracted to me. But all this time, he just needed to catch up to my feelings.
“But then you were gone. You left without a word. You leftme,” he repeats, and I can hear the pain in his voice, which just makes the tears start again. This time, for the pain that I inadvertently caused him. Somehow, I not only broke my heart, but caused his to grow, only to crush it a few days later by leaving without a word. Looking back, I can admit that my leaving is my biggest regret and the worst thing I could have done. At the end of the day, I wasn’t just in love with Liam, I was in love with my best friend. I would often tell him he was my best friend when I was crying to him that I had no friends, or when another party came and went without an invitation to me. He would sit there with his arm around my shoulder, telling me it didn’t matter because he was my best friend and he would always invite me, talk to me, hang out with me. I took those words as easy placation on his part; I was too blinded by my unreturned feelings for him to see that he was being honest with me.
For the first time, I can see just how much I hurt him by simply leaving.
“I was so pissed when Ronan told me you had moved to Montreal. If he was surprised I didn’t know—he didn’t show it. Apparently, you told him that you had already said goodbye to me. I took that as a sign that you didn’t want to see me or talk to me anymore. So, I stayed away. But believeme when I say that not a day went by where I didn’t think of you. I lost count of how many texts I wrote but deleted before sending.”
My breath catches at that last piece of information, knowing that under us is a box overflowing with sticky notes and letters he wrote to me over the years. I lost count of how many times I went through them, wishing I had new ones to add to my collection.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry, Sloane. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. But please, please, know I didn’t react that way because of you. It was because of me, because of how right it felt to have you in my arms like that. To kiss you,” he says, with a shaky breath, before burying his face in my hair. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers, squeezing me one last time.
It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep behind me after that last squeeze, which just makes me feel even more like shit because he clearly hasn’t been sleeping well the last couple of nights, since I’ve been staying in my own bed.
Sleep evades me the entire night. Even though I’m tightly wrapped in Liam’s arms, I can’t sleep—his words are on repeat in my mind.
If only I had stayed . . .
If only I had heard him out . . . If only I had gone back home . . .
If, if, if. . .
Possibilities run through my mind all night until, finally, my bedside clock hits five thirty a.m. and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to pull away from Liam, though. Being wrapped up in his arms is like being home, beingprotected but free at the same time. Like falling headfirst but knowing nothing is going to hurt me. That feeling on itsown makes everything that much more complicated. He’s leaving in a few weeks. His life isn’t here. His life is in Vancouver.
Chapter 18
I expected to wake up with a smile on my face. Instead, my usual frown mars my face. The minute I start to wake up, I know Sloane isn’t in bed with me. After I spilled my guts to her last night, I expected to wake up still holding her, or with her head on my chest. Instead, I find a cold pillow beside me, which means she’s been out of bed for quite sometime.
