My blood drains to my feet, and my face must show it.
"Please, Tess. Don't let… what happened… change your mind. You still need somewhere to stay, and we still have a place for you."
"No, I know. But do you really think it's a good idea? I mean, you were right, Liam. What happened…" I say, unable to name it just like him. "It can't happen again."
His jaw tightens so hard I swear I hear grinding.
"I just got out of a relationship, and you and Ruthie have a lot going on. This is a big year for you for baseball, and Ruthie and I are just starting to fall into step. God forbid things were to—"
"I get it," he blurts. I snap my lips shut, and he nods, his eyes softening. "I agree. And it won't—happen again. Moving forward, you and I will remain completely professional. You staying here was always on the table, though. Please don't feel like you have to leave."
Every instinct in me tells me I should. Why would I subject myself to being around this man anymore than I already have to—subject myselfto fighting off urges to reenact that kiss every time he's around? But the truth is, I don't have anywhere else to go that's as available and not going to break my bank. And this makes sense—maybe not in the way that every time I walk by the kitchen island I'll picture Liam throwing me on top of it. But it really is logical otherwise.
"Yeah, I'll stay."
He nods. "Good."
"For now."
"Okay."
I paint him a shy smile. "I'll just need to get some more of my stuff."
Liam shoves his hands into his pockets. "I can help if you want me to," he offers eagerly.
I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. You have your game, then Ruthie's birthday dinner with Alex and Levi, don't you?"
He blows a breath through his lips. "Shit, yeah. That's right." He runs his hand through his hair, then down the back of his neck, and my gaze follows every inch of movement. "What about tomorrow? Alex is taking Ruthie with her from my game. They're going to Levi's game after."
I swallow my hesitancy. I forgot about that. But we'll have to be alone together sometime. "Okay, yeah. Thanks."
Liam attempts to smother a grin but fails. "Sounds good."
Before I can call him on it—or overthink it anymore than I should, the party that ended entirely too late last night starts up again.
"And so it begins," Liam says softly, as the voices and laughter grow louder.
And although I know he's talking about the girls, I can't help but think that he's right.
In more ways than one.
"Jo, what are you doing?"
"Currently? Editing my next episode. Can you believe there's a Flames defenseman writing poetry?"
"Stop, I… wait, really? What does—you know what, no. Jo, why are your numbers so low?"
A faint tapping tells me she isn't surprised or concerned by my question, and the quiet echo of her voice playing in the background says she's still working.
"Aren't you currently living with a terribly hot—yet incredibly overpaid—professional baseball player?" I roll my eyes so hard she can most likely feel it through the phone. "You must have better things to do than scroll SweetCheck like it's social media."
I scoff. "I get alerts, Jo. And only when you're low—which, may I add, has been happening more than normal recently."
"Oh my God," she blurts.
"Don't give me that," I throw back.
She laughs, and my cheeks warm with annoyance. "No, not you. I just watched myself wink on camera, and it was… tragic."
