Page 74 of The Has-Been

After a few minutes of being left alone with nothing but my wildly beating heart and a stomach of nerves, he walks back in with my favorite pair of pajamas in hand, setting them on the sink before stepping back out. As he passes by, I quickly take his hand in mine.

“Thanks,” I mumble, and I swear his hand is trembling.

After a second, I add, “I still have a pair of your sweats and a couple of shirts in my bottom drawer.” I admit it with a slight blush. Amusement dances across his features as if he’s trying to hide his happiness and what it might imply that I kept them.

I could never bring myself to get rid of them.

When he’s gone again, I drop my towel and quickly change. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised he remembered these were my favorites. But then again, Liam still remembers a lot about me, like how he had offered to get me a burger from Lover’s and how he had played my favorite song, all trying to cheer me up.

I might have been in my own head—but I still recognized the effort he put in.

A warm glow thrums through me. But I let it pass, reminding myself that I still know those things about him, that just because you break up with someone doesn’t mean that you forget everything you once knew about them.

If only that worked, because then I might not be torturing myself like I am now.

I work quickly, brushing my teeth, then my hair—trying not to think too long about how his hands had felt over my hair as he pulled it into a knot. As I finish combing the long strands, desperately trying to fix my bangs going in every direction, I give myself a quick once-over.

I look like shit.

My face is only now returning to its standard color, and my eyes are red and puffy from crying. My hair needs washing, the course strands hanging lifeless.

But I turn around before I lose the nerve.

Am I seriously considering sleeping with my ex? After having a panic attack at the hospital where I lost our baby…that he doesn’t even know about.

My hand hovers on the bathroom door. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I know it will only make things worse, but for some reason, it doesn’t keep the thoughts from running through my mind.

I take a deep breath. Heat might be pooling at my core, my body screaming for attention, for his touch to trail all over me like when he was running his fingertips over my shoulders and back. I shouldn’t want this—I can’t.

No. No. No.

I tell myself. But goosebumps still rise on my neck.

My eyes flutter. My mind wants silence. My body, though—it remembers how good we were together.

We aren’t ready for another emotional connection. But, there is no denying that there is still chemistry, an untold connection on a physical level that we both aren’t prepared to forget.

Not yet.

I let out a breath, my heart hammering as I open the door and gasp.

He’s standing right before me, like he was about to open the door himself.

His gaze trails over me, looking over me seductively. Or…maybe he’s looking at me like he always does.

Shit. I can’t tell, and I don’t trust my judgement right now.

When his eyes meet mine, my heart turns over in response. A tingling creeps into the pit of my stomach, my heart jolts, pulse pounding, his stare disturbing me in all the best ways.

My feet drift on an unseen cloud as I inch toward him. He leans forward, like he’s about to meet me halfway, and suddenly I feel alive, my movements unsteady.

My enormous bedroom suddenly seems too small as I step out of the bathroom. Silence settles around us. I’m no longer cold to the bone. No—I feel warm and heavy, like his gaze alone is enough to thaw me.

I lean forward, all my weight shifting onto the balls of my feet. A breathy, nervous wheeze slips out as I part my lips, rising onto my tiptoes as I lean up and⁠—

I gasp when Liam suddenly steps back, nearly sending me stumbling forward.