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I gazed around the room. Three walls were white; one was painted a soothing sage green. They complemented the white and grey bed, wardrobe, and dresser. Soft light emanated from a small lamp on a nightstand. Teddy bears decorated the shade.
The room was clean and neat, the bed made with not a thing out of place. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this.
I placed his coffee on the nightstand and removed one shoe, then the other and put them next to the dresser.
He groaned and mumbled something into the covers.
“I can’t hear you, Liam. You’ll need to turn over.”
He didn’t move, mumbling some more.
“Liam, if you want me to hear what you’re saying, you’ll need to move.”
I tapped his leg, and he rolled slowly onto his back, his arms down by his sides.
His eyes were closed. A lone tear wet his cheek.
“Hey, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s worse.” He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand as more tears gathered and fell.
I was out of my depth. Put me in a room with a hardened criminal, and I’d have him spilling his secrets in no time.
Consoling a grieving relative? No problem. It was part of the job.
Here, in the room of a man I was inextricably attracted to, I had no clue what to say or do.
No wonder I was single. Small talk had never been my strong point.
Remembering my research and his former relationship with Stuart, I sat on the bed, wrapped my arms around him, lifted him onto my lap, and pulled him close.
He burrowed into my chest, and I rested my chin on his head.
His sniffles increased, and I hugged him tighter. His tiny frame fit perfectly in my embrace.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Cry all you need to. I’m here.”
As I rocked him gently, he silently sobbed, his shoulders shaking. The ice cream would melt to a puddle, but Liam was more important than any tub of expensive frozen dessert.
He needed me, or at least he needed this.
How long had it been since someone had held him this way? Comforted him, soothed him, calmed him. I’d wager it was a while.
“She called him Stuart,” he whispered.
“Who did, Liam? I don’t understand.” Stuart was in prison. I’d made sure of that.
“In the nightclub. The couple I was with. The woman called her boyfriend Stuart.”
Jesus. No wonder he’d looked scared half to death when he’d walked down the street.
His sobs had lessened to hiccups, and he lifted his head to look at me, his sorrowful eyes shining, eyelashes wet from the tears he’d shed. I wiped one, then the other. The insignificant gesture brought a tiny smile to his face.
“That’s better. Why don’t you get into bed and tell me what happened? I’ll go make you another drink. You get yourself ready.”
I didn’t want to hang about while he undressed. I might have held him close and comforted him, but it didn’t give me the right to be here at such a personal time.
“Could I have some warm milk, please? It helps me sleep.”
