Her voice stayed confident and certain until she got to the end, and then it broke. One aborted sob followed by a short, bitter laugh—a sound nothing like the full-throated laughter he loved to hear from her. “Don’t feel bad about it. I keep screwing up with you too.”
“You give me too much credit. I agreed to one night with you because I crave you like an addict craves heroin. And you have the same addiction. I didn’t care. Even now, I don’t care. I want to stay because I want to be with you, but for the need to do better by you than what I learned from them. And if we keep on the way we want to there would eventually be a child. Or you’d want one. And people learn from their parents’ example. My parents were abusive, neglectful junkies. Is that what you want for your children?”
“That’s not what would happen. I saw you with Brody. But if you want to blame someone for this situation, then blame me. I’m the one who couldn’t let go. And if you’re guilty of anything, it’s being too afraid to take a risk on me. I’m not afraid to take a risk on you. I know a sure thing when I see it. You might not see it, and I don’t think you even want to see it, but you’re an honorable man, Liam. Or else you’d still be with Simone.”
Grace swiped her cheeks, picked up her handbag and then went to grab the handle of her suitcase.
“Where are you going?” His palms started to sweat and the air felt thick, soupy, hard to breathe.
“We’re broken up, right? I can’t stay here with you in this hotel room.” She unlocked and opened the door. “Take care of yourself, Liam. You couldn’t save your father, what happened to him was due to his own decisions. And I can’t save you from this, because it’s your decision. Only you can save yourself. Don’t just do it in your rewind fantasies of this evening, and don’t take too long... I’m not going to wait for you forever, even though I know that’s how long I’ll love you.”
She pulled the door open, her head up and her shoulders back. And she was gone.
SWIMMING IN THE pool at work had rules, and one of those rules was the hours of operation. But at two thirty in the morning, after tossing and turning her sheets into a sweaty tangle, those rules meant very little even to the perennially law-abiding.
The last place Grace wanted to be was somewhere she’d spent so much time with Liam, but work was the only place she could find a pool where she knew it would be safe to swim alone at that hour.
It took a little explaining to get her past the guard, but as she flipped on the lights to the pool room she could already feel the stress starting to abate.
A swim was what she needed. Exercise to burn off excess energy. The comfort of the familiar. Maybe the water could give her even the metaphorical weightlessness she wanted, some way to return to her usual mental and emotional buoyancy.
She dove in and prayed the water would work its usual magic on her.
How long had it taken her to get over Liam the first time? Really get over him, not just take out her frustrations by kissing every cute boy who hadn’t immediately bored her?
Well, that was a depressing thought.
Because she’d never got over Liam. Not really.
She had eventually got to a place where it had hurt less and she hadn’t cringed when she’d heard his name. By the time his face had been plastered everywhere, it hadn’t even really hurt anymore. She’d built up a callus, which she’d vigorously exfoliated when she’d gotten tangled up with him again.
Kicking harder, she turned under the water, completing her first lap.
Three days and she hadn’t heard anything from Liam. Tonight she’d come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t. The paparazzi who’d found out where she worked had mostly given up following her—all except for a couple intermittent stragglers. Why bother watching her when Liam was clearly nowhere around? She went to work. She went home. She swam. It wasn’t terribly interesting.
Even if they saw what she did when she was home, it would probably only inspire pity in them.
She was considering getting some cats.
And learning a craft of some kind.
And moving in with people who shunned cell phones. Anything to keep herself from asking Nick about Liam. He’d stopped talking about his friend anymore when they spoke, and she didn’t know if Nick and Liam were even speaking to each other.
If they weren’t on speaking terms any longer, that would mean that her desires had interfered with her brother’s relationships. And if they were, it would be just as awkward between her and Nick, even if it was a different kind of awkward.
Cats, crafts, and shunning technology seemed like the safest outlets to turn her attention to.
Or maybe it was time for a change of scenery. Take another job with a sports team, somewhere other than California, New York, or Virginia. Maybe if she went far enough away, she could figure out how to put it all behind her.
* * *
Liam sat sideways on the sofa in his hotel suite, trying to wrap his ankle before his guest arrived. It had probably gotten to the point that he could stop wearing all the wraps and splints if he was careful, but he’d be cautious a little longer. He just couldn’t call Grace up and ask her.
He couldn’t call Grace up for any reason.
But Nick he had called, and Liam was now waiting for his oldest friend to arrive. With all that had gone on with Grace, and then with Nick’s reaction, he needed to figure out where they stood.
By the time he worked the little metal thing into the bandage to keep it in place, the door opened and Nick strolled in. “Hey, Miles let me in. He said you were working on your ankle.”
Nick stopped by the sofa and looked down at the bandaged limb. “That looks like the same technique you use to wrap gifts.”
“I don’t wrap gifts anymore. Hailey does it now,” Liam said, dragging a smile on his face even if it was just for show right now. He used to also have someone who would wrap his ankle for him, but that was over. And the reason why seeing Nick for the first time in more than a month felt like walking to an execution he’d volunteered for. “Thanks for coming. Want a drink? Bar’s stocked, as always.”
Liam got his sword cane and used it to meander over to the bar. Talking at the bar felt better than talking on the sofa. Less intimate, and Nick wasn’t the Watson who Liam had a history of getting intimate with.
Nick followed and reached for the Scotch and two short tumblers. A minute later they had ice and whiskey in them. Liam had given up the pain relievers last week, just in time for this conversation that required alcohol.
“So, do you want to talk about my sister?” Nick slid a glass to him.
Right to the point.
Liam nodded, took a drink of the Scotch and looked for the words. Unlike with the Trench Coat talk, he hadn’t planned any of this beforehand. He was by turns apologetic with Nick and angry with him, but before he got to his apologies, there were things he needed
