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SAOIRSE
My eyes stay trainedon the open doorway as I fidget with my hands, waiting for Liam to return from wherever he ran off to. Finally, unable to remain still, I lay my palms flat on the duvet and hoist myself backwards until my spine greets the soft, grey, crushed velvet headboard.
Seconds turn into minutes, and before long, I toss my head back and stare at the ceiling. Straightening my legs out, I wiggle my toes, expelling some of the nervous energy building underneath my skin.
I wonder what he could have that would remind me of a time I know nothing about. I have no recollection of the Devereux twins or their parents. And unless there is a sizable chunk of my life missing, there’s nothing Liam can show me that will convince me otherwise.
“Are you sleeping?” Liam’s amusement pierces my eardrum, forcing my head to drop to the side. Finally, I peel my heavy eyelids open to find a still shirtless Liam, blocking the entire doorway with his well-defined frame.
My brows crinkle when I spy the small object dangling from his right hand. “What’s that?” I ask, tipping my chin towards the leather-bound book.
His feet carry him towards the edge of the bed. “Scoot over, and I’ll show you.”
Using my hands to steady myself, I bum-shuffle across the bed and then pat the space next to me. “Well, are you going to stand there all night, or will you show me what you’re hiding there?”
A smile creeps onto his face, and he slides into the open space beside me. Then, mirroring my position, Liam stretches out his long, lean legs until they are straight out in front of him. Finally, he lays the 4×6 book on his lap.
Once he’s settled against the headboard, he slopes his head to his left, catching my gaze. “You ready?”
Scooting closer, I mould myself to his side, our legs brushing as he raises his arm for me to duck beneath, allowing me to snuggle closer to his bare chest. My head nestles into the crook of his arm, finally resting against his taut, broad shoulders.
My left hand rests against his bare torso as I tuck my right beneath my cheek.
Suddenly, it strikes me how intimate the manoeuvre is, but with the way Liam’s fingertips twist the tip of my ponytail, I don’t think he minds having me pressed against him like a band-aid. So, instead of pulling back, I bask in the warmth emulating from his chiselled body.
“Okay, ready when you are.” I settle in, waiting for him to crack the book open.
Finally, he peels back the cover, revealing a photo album stuffed to the brim with old photographs. My curious gaze connects with the first image — two log cabins, side by side, standing tall amongst the shade of countless evergreen trees — and I gasp.
“The cabins.” My words are nothing more than a breathless statement.
“Do you remember this place?” Liam dips his chin, peering down at me over the rim of his dark lashes.
My fingertips trail over the polypropylene covering, tracing the lines of the Belgian style log cabins. A sad smile curls on my mouth as a mirage of childhood memories flood my mind. “Of course. My mother took me to these cabins every summer for most of my childhood. It was the only place I ever truly felt at home.
“No matter how many towns we ran from or how many houses we upped and left with no return, this place” — I point to the cabin on the right — “was the one place she never took from me. Every year, without fail, we’d spend our entire summer vacation in these cabins. I looked forward to it every year. It was the only constant I had growing up.”
“When did you stop going there?” He breathes against the top of my head.
“Erm.” My eyes flicker shut, acknowledging the sadness that washes through me. “We were supposed to go back the summer after my thirteenth birthday, but right before we left to go there, my mam got a call from the owners. Apparently, they sold them, and the new owners weren’t interested in renting them out.”
I don’t mention how disappointed I was that day or how I had spent the entire year building up to that vacation, hopelessly daydreaming about all the promises the boy in the sister cabin had made to me the summer before.
After all, I never saw him again, not after he stole my first kiss on my last night the summer previous. So telling Liam about him would be pointless, and I doubt he’d want to hear about the first boy I thought I loved as a pathetic preteen.
Beneath my cheek, the steady thump of Liam’s heart pounds against his rib cage, slowly picking up pace with every word I speak. Finally, he flips to the next photograph, and I bolt upright, breaking free of Liam’s hold, and tearing the album from his grip. Finally, I bring it closer to my face.
“Where did you…” The question dies on my tongue as I stare down at a face I haven’t seen in almost five years.
“How do you have this picture?”
“Your mam sent them to mine every year.”
“Why?”
“You are my mam’s goddaughter. She wanted to stay updated on your life, even if she couldn’t be part of it in the way she wanted to be.”
Suddenly, Liam’s front moulds against my back, and then his chin is resting on my shoulder. Cranking my neck, I peer at his smiling face out of the corner of my eye. “Who’s the dork?” Laughter dances in his tone.
