He steps forward. A tug I haven’t felt in ages in my gut pulls taut, and I fight the instinct to close the little distance between us. “I’m not above hoisting you over my shoulder if I have to.”
I swallow. My palms turn sweaty, and I wipe them on my dress, wincing through the scrapes dragging along the fabric. “I’m too wet.” My tongue fumbles in my throat while my brain screamselaborate! “To go to the hospital—because it rained. On me.” I glance around at all my dry friends. “And apparently nobody else.”
He frowns, the harsh lines ill-suiting him, but concedes with a nod and a sigh.
My heart glitches at his weary surrender. Liam . . . has never admitted defeat . . . ever . . .
Mercifully, Maria grabs my shoulders and shifts me away before I can overanalyze whatever that was. “We really should bring you to a hospital, dear,” she says, pouring water on a napkin and wiping my cheek. “But let’s get you home and change into some dry clothes first, and then I’ll bring you.” She considers me with all the maternal concern her mama bear soul can never overcome, no matter how much grief I give her.
Eli oscillates between Liam and me with a hasty, pleading smile. “Deal?”
“Deal,” I mutter.
“That’s fair,” Liam adds softly.
“Good.” Eli strides over to a trashcan to throw out the napkins and grimaces at its contents—apologies to whoever empties that poor bin later. “You’ll need to change anyway,” he says to Liam.
Liam nods, pulling at the cuff of his white shirt, splattered with blood from my scraped palms. “Yeah, probably not a great first impression, huh?”
“Certainly could help set the mood if you’re going for the ruthless cheese empire-building vibe,” I awkwardly joke.
An upward curve lifts the corners of Liam’s lips as he shakes his head.
“We’ll try again some other time?” Eli flashes his puppy-dog eyes, dissipating any feelings of rage I want to direct his way.
I sigh. “Yeah, another time.”
“Great.” He steps forward for a hug—a chokehold, really, his signature squeeze. “I’m sorry I’m an ass who listened to your brother.”
“You are, and you owe me, but I missed you and your powerful hugs.”
“I missed you too.” He rocks me back and forth as his arms tighten around me and near chest-bursting territory. “Text me when you get out.”
“Deal.”
Looming next to us, Liam stands with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Well . . . bye,” I say, twiddling my fingers. Should I hug him? I super hugged Eli, so it’d be rude not to, right? I step forward.
“It was nice to see you, Evie.” He comes in hot, hand out for a handshake, but I go all in on the hug and my quick-decision motor skills misfire. Oh, why the hell did I go all in on the hug? Seriously? Of course we were on handshake terms.
“Oh—” His eyes widen, and he clears his throat.
I drop my arms, going in for the handshake as he opens his arms for the embrace. Enter the dance of the handshake-hug. Which is totally fine and not awkward at all. I relent, arms wide, and let him lean in for the hug. Maria giggles. Eli smirks. My cheeks burn, and I’m a train wreck. He holds me tight. Firm. Warm. He’s everything—late nights chasing fireflies, picking lilacs in blossom, boombox blaring, singing and dancing in the rain, and utter defeat and humiliation. He, frankly, is home. And I’m suddenly sick.
We release each other, and I tuck my hair behind my ear. A peal of nervous laughter vaguely resembling the barking of a seal escapes me. Love that look for me.
“Home then hospital, right?” He peers down at me, arms crossed.
“Yes, Mr. Kelly.”
He bristles under the appellation but doesn’t say anything else, pivoting on his heel and walking in the opposite direction with Eli.
“Ready?” Maria pulls on my elbow.
“Yeah.” Lamenting my loss of donuts, I glance back one last time at American Press. A sharp ache pricks my chest as soft honey meets my stare. Liam’s head is cocked back, and he’s focused on me with parted lips. He registers my return and shoots his head forward, trudging away from the donuts and general happiness.
Well, that was weird. I shrug it off, linking arms with Maria.
