I swallow hard at his confession, heat fluttering low in my belly. I tell myself it’s only my body acting up from weeks of delayed gratification and the humiliating fact that I can’t get myself off without a man watching.
It has nothing to do with all the things he made me feel this month, especially bound and edged for hours in his locked room.
Deep down, I know better.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Nothing.” He lets me go. “I’ve been a dick, and it’s not fair to you. I apologize.”
He shoves off the wall, dark hair falling into his eyes as he nods toward the library. “You need to go in.”
Then he’s gone, his long strides carrying him down the corridor, leaving me staring after him with his confession still ringing in my ears.
Trying to gather my composure, I rake my fingers through my hair, coaxing the locks back into place. My exterior is the easy part, but whatever he cracked open inside me…
That’s more difficult to smooth down. Squaring my shoulders, I grip the door handle and ease it open.
But Hugo isn’t waiting for me.
Liam is.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s not the first time I’ve walked into this room and found someone unexpected.
Liam turns from the window, his devastating smile brighter than the rare winter sun that catches the copper of his hair. He gestures to the small table beside him, where a chess game awaits like an argument we never finished.
“Are you up for a match?” He pulls out a chair before I can speak, as if the answer to his invitation is a foregone conclusion.
I glance around the room, brows pulling together. “Where’s Hugo?”
“Mr. Alexander allowed me some time with you this afternoon.” A half smirk plays on his lips—an expression so foreign it makes me do a double take. “Lucky for me,” he says, fingers pressing into the chair he’s holding for me, “he’s not nearly as possessive as the rest of us.”
Us.
Plural.
It’s a small concession but completely true. As I make my way to the table, I recall the last time I saw him.
The memorial.
I wish I could walk back that wayward thought, but it’s too late. The pain hits, swift and visceral, holding my heart in a vise grip, and for one instant, I forget Sebastian’s alive.
Because no matter the gift of my miracle, my body still remembers what it felt like to lose the love of my life.
I slide into the chair and blink away the tears, put the mask back in place, remind myself that he’s safe.
He’s coming back for me.
Liam takes his spot across from me at the table, his welcoming smile gone—as if he’s attuned to my emotions.
After everything we’ve been through, maybe he is.
“That day at the gazebo,” he starts, then clears the raspiness from his vocal cords, “I wanted to be there for you.”
“I know.” I run my palms down my thighs, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in my skirt. “I guess Oliver has kept me to himself this month, hasn’t he?”
“I can’t say I blame him.” It’s a soft admission, but underneath it lies what he won’t voice.
If given the chance, he’d do the same. In fact, he’s gone to great lengths, taken risks with real consequences, to have me to himself.