“You cook?” I observe his expert moves.
“Don’t get too excited. I raided Xander’s pantry and found very little. This casserole isn’t a masterpiece. Are you hungry?”
He prepares two plates before he drops the pan into the sink and looks at me.
We keep our gazes locked for a beat, and the awkwardness settles between us. I look away, unsure how we can get past this weirdness between us.
The most reasonable solution would be for me to thank him for his help and hospitality and walk away.
I have a lot to attend to: find a job, find Romeo, find an alternative plan for me and Tee before my father fucks up everything. And forget about Liam. That one makes me shudder.
Fuck, I hate this impasse.
“I’m starving. It smells delicious.” I fidget in my chair and chance a look at him.
He nods and puts a plate in front of me. The awkward silence continues as we eat. Me on the stool and him standing across, leaning on the counter.
I don’t know if he doesn’t want to sit beside me, or if he believes I wouldn’t want him near me.
The casserole is scrumptious, but I have to force myself to eat. My appetite sours with the endless loopof thoughts and the thickness of the atmosphere between us.
I don’t know where to go from here. Every direction costs something. Trust would be easier. But ease is hardly the right answer here.
He wants my forgiveness, but he hasn’t earned my surrender.
So we eat in silence. Hoping. Avoiding. Suffering.
We eat in silence, not because there’s nothing to say.
We eat in silence to avoid saying the wrong thing.
Somehow, I eat almost the whole portion before I push the plate away. “Thank you.”
He nods, puts his plate down, and steps closer. There is still the counter between us, but I rush to move away, as if his proximity had a life-threatening effect.
Jesus. Since when have I been so dramatic? Since when do I cower?
“Why are you doing this, Liam?” I face him.
He snaps his head toward me. “What?”
“Why are you taking care of me?”
His sigh is heavy, filled with emotions I don’t want to dissect. But he looks at me with a certain softness that is so unexpected, I almost flinch.
“You shouldn’t do this alone, Roxy.”
I swallow. I regret asking, because the answershatters me into pieces. I’m not used to having anyone by my side. Wearing my team’s jersey.
The concept feels comforting and dangerous at the same time. And then I remember that this is the man who played me for weeks.
“Your original plan failed, so now you think you can use this situation to own me?”
Closing his eyes, he drops his head and shakes it slightly. When he looks at me, I step back, despite our distance.
His eyes flare with something I can’t decipher. Frustration? Determination? Fear? Hope? All of it at once?
“I told you once you would be the worst possession.”
