The other part knows I won’t be that fucking lucky.
Chapter Twelve
Maddie
The entire time Liam is gone, I can’t get rid of the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach over that note I found after my dance recital. Liam immediately warned me, wanting me to stay home and not go anywhere alone, which makes me believe he knows exactly who this came from. I’m kinda scared. Not for me, but for him. I’ve never seen him so beat up before. Maybe a few sore muscles and a shitty attitude, but never two black eyes and a bruised face.
When he finally returns home, he’s not himself. The Liam I know left on a plane, and some other person came back wearing his face.
“Hulk, how was the trip?” I ask, and he walks past me as if I didn’t even speak. So I follow him. “Liam?”
“What?” He turns around and gives me two seconds of his attention.
“I was talking to you, and you ignored me.” I cross my arms and stare at him. “You got a haircut.”
He nods. “Yeah. Sorry, there’s a lot on my mind.” He grabs a beer, twists off the top, then chugs half of it. “I need a shower.”
After he leaves the kitchen, I’m left wondering what the fuck just happened. I sit on the couch, replaying every moment before he left—the kiss, the protective way he acted, and how he spent all day watching Glee with me. Now, it’s like none of it happened, and I imagined the whole thing. One day, he’s scorching hot, and the next day, he’s freezing cold, making it impossible for me to keep up with his mood swings.
By the time he comes downstairs, I’m annoyed, and he knows it by the scowl on my face, but he continues to pretend I don’t exist and walks past me.
I hear banging in the kitchen, and then the doorbell rings. Rushing through the house, Liam goes to answer it. He cracks open the door, and I hear a man ask for him. Liam walks outside, and he’s taking so long that I decide to see who he’s speaking with, but my jaw hits the sidewalk when I see a brand-new Mercedes G-Wagon.
“Are you shitting me?” I say, and they both turn to look at me. “You bought a new car?”
“Maddie, please go wait inside,” Liam says, then finishes signing some paperwork. I roll my eyes and do as he says even though I want to push his buttons until he stops acting like a jerk. Five minutes later, he’s barging through the front door with the keys in his hand and glaring at me as I jump up from the couch.
“What the hell, Liam? How can you afford that?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“What does it matter?” he asks, walking into the kitchen, but I follow him.
“Because it does. You’ve been acting different lately, and I know something’s going on.” I wonder how much money he won on this Vegas trip, considering what’s sitting in the driveway. I’m too fucking chicken to call him out on it, so I swallow down what I really want to say. I just wish he’d be truthful about it all, but I doubt today will be the day that happens.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t worry about it. Just drop it.”
I scowl at his tone and the way he’s treating me like a child. Anger brews with every second that passes between us. Liam grabs another beer and walks past me again. I’m tempted to trip his ass but trail him instead. “So just pretend you didn’t have a maxed-out Mercedes delivered to our house? Right.”
“Yeah,” he says, plopping on the couch. “Mind your own business for once.”
“What’s your issue?” I finally ask. Standing over him, I place my hands on my hips. My infuriating gaze nearly burns a hole in his head.
As if I snapped him back to reality, his demeanor changes. There’s something behind his eyes—fear and anger—and they’re mixing. “I already told you I have a lot on my mind.” He shrugs and flicks on the TV. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know, how about the truth?” I raise my arms, then drop them with a slap. “What’s really going on? Why are you being such a dick and so secretive?” I ask and realize I’ve raised my voice. Sophie and Mason aren’t home, so it doesn’t matter, but I hate it when I lose my temper. And right now, I’m at my limit with him.
Liam stands and closes the gap between us, then places his hands on my cheeks. As he lowers his eyes, I see his shoulders slump. “Mads. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an asshole, okay? I’m really stressed and don’t mean to take it out on you. Will you forgive me?”