Every time I’d gone into the grocery store, my eyes scanned the aisles, knowing I could run into Liam at any time. At work I’d found myself checking the door every time someone walked in, thinking it might be him.
I’d been trying to avoid him, and yet now that he was right in front of me, I didn’t want to see him leave.
I knew some part of me wanted him to demand things of me, pull me back in, let me care about him even though I knew I shouldn’t.
“What is it, Red?” he asked.
I was suddenly aware of my heart pounding in my chest. “I have one,” I said.
He paused. “You have what?”
“A fenced in yard,” I said. “It’s not huge, but it’s plenty enough for Anna and Elsa to run around in. I’m sure it would be good for Bandit, too. You could drop him off sometime, if you wanted.”
A flash crossed over Liam’s eyes. “Really?” he asked.
I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Just then, a bird darted across the air above us, heading toward the creek. Bandit leapt after it, yanking the leash hard as he barked, pulling Liam straight down to the ground.
“Shit,” Liam hissed as his palm fell to the ground. I took a step closer as he stood back up. Blood was falling in rivulets down his palm. There was a jagged rock on the ground that had cut him up good.
“You all right?” I asked, inspecting the gash. It was still seeping blood and coated with murky mud from the ground, and when Bandit tugged on the leash again, Liam winced.
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight.
“You clearly aren’t,” I said.
“You should just go home—” Liam started to say, but he stopped abruptly when bigger drops of blood started hitting the dirt below him.
“You’re not fine, Liam,” I said.
“God, I hate the sight of blood,” he said, his face already pale.
“I know you do. Let’s get you inside,” I said. I took Bandit’s leash from his hand, whistling at the dog. Bandit looked at me right away. “Come on, girls,” I told Anna and Elsa, and when they followed me, Bandit happily bounded after them.
“I don’t need any help,” Liam said. “I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you could, but I’m already here, so I’m going to help you.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I just don’t need any pity.”
Cocky bastard.
“Remind me to slap you after I tend to your wound,” I said.
“Threatening me with a good time?” he said as he let us into the house. A line of blood started to run down his arm and he winced. “Fine. Fuck. I need this to stop.”
He led me from the living room down a small hallway to the bathroom. The place smelled faintly of the woodsy clove-scented cologne Liam wore. I wanted to curl up in this house already, just so I could be around that scent again.
Bad.
It was small, but had nice wooden beams lining the ceilings of the living room and kitchen, and it looked like Liam had already made the place completely his own. He had beautiful patterned rugs on the floor. Bookshelves already crammed with books. There were a few big, multicolored plush throw blankets on the couch in the living room.
He’d always been obsessed with blankets. I used to call him a Liam burrito when he was all wrapped up.
That was definitely something I didn’t need to be thinking about. Liam wasn’t someone I got cozy with anymore, and he never would be again.
“Do you have a first-aid kit?” I said as we reached the bathroom.
“Um, I have… rubbing alcohol?” he said. “And Band-Aids. I definitely got those.”
“You got about four blankets for the couch already, but no first-aid kit?” I said.
“I know I’m not good at... adulthood,” he said, pulling in a sharp breath of air through his teeth. “Sorry, it hurts.”
I took him to the sink and briefly washed the mud off his palm, then used the rubbing alcohol to sanitize around the cut. I cleaned the blood off his forearm, my fingers skating over his tattoos.
I cleared my throat. “I like these,” I said.
“You like open wounds?”
“No, jackass. I like your tattoos.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you. A lot of them are new.”
I caught his eyes for a moment, then brought my fingers to the pocket watch tattoo near his elbow. “I remember this one, though.”
He puffed out a laugh. “Yeah. You saw me cry like a baby when I had that one done. That was before I met Katie.”
Liam had dragged me to a seedy tattoo shop in a bad part of town to get the pocket watch tattoo. It was a recreation of a pocket watch that used to belong to his grandfather, who’d been the only family member Liam ever liked. When he got news that his grandfather died, Liam cried and cried, and that night, made me go to the tattoo shop with him.