Page 11 of The Red-Hot Stakes

“Oh, shit. Um.” Liam awkwardly patted my back. “Should I go get Avery? I’ll go get Avery.”

He started to shift, but I needed to lean on someone for just a second. He was there, so I leaned into him. My head rested on his big, firm chest, my shoulder on his abdomen. He froze. Then I felt his muscles relax slightly as he sighed. I inhaled deeply, soaking in his cedar and pine scent and allowing it to ground me.

Slowly, one large hand came up to grip my shoulder in the most awkward half hug I’d ever known. And it was enough to stop my tears, turning them to laughter instead.

I shook my head, sitting up. “Liam, you suck at this.”

He smirked. “Hey, I came over here expecting to move furniture and boxes, not be some woman’s snot rag.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again, shoving him away. “All right, grab a box, and let’s figure out what I’m taking from the kitchen.”

We filled Liam’s truck with boxes. I didn’t have much big furniture since most of it was Josh’s. But one dresser and two of the end tables were mine. Two hours later, everything was loaded, and Avery’s eyebrows shot up when I voluntarily hopped into the front seat of Liam’s truck. He seemed a little shocked as well.

I sighed. “I’m tired of Avery’s sympathetic looks and Derek checking on me every five seconds. Plus, they haven’t kissed once since I’ve been around. The tension is building already, so I’m giving them a few minutes to themselves. And we’re stopping for food. How’s Taco Bell?”

“Sounds great.” His truck rumbled to life.

The best thing about being with Liam was that I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with chatter. We didn’t talk at all, except for ordering food. My thoughts circled around and around, as I wondered how much of this truly was my fault. And how long it had been going on. My gut told me this wasn’t the first time, but I pulled out my phone, needing to know for sure.

Liam’s tone was wary. “What are you doing?”

“Josh has some explaining to do.” I composed what I was going to say in my head.

“Gina, I know you want answers, but the best way to get hurt is to start rapid firing a bunch of pissed-off questions in the heat of the moment.”

I ignored him, typing away, then hit send.

His sigh stretched on. “You should get your ears checked.”

“It’s called selective hearing when a man does it.” My smirk faded when I took in the set of his jaw and the tight grip of his hands on the steering wheel.

My phone dinged. I steeled myself, but it didn’t help as I read my ex’s words. Josh’s response left me feeling hollow.

Our relationship had always been a sham.

An unbidden echo from my childhood bubbled up from the depths of my memories. One word that had haunted me, following from foster home to foster home. Cursed. It had been a long time since I’d thought about it, nearly a year in fact.

But I should have known better than to think I could outrun it.

“Dammit.” Liam slapped on his blinker, nearly cutting someone off before screeching into the nearest gas station. He stormed out of the truck.

I sat there, staring at my now black screen. Josh had cheated the entire time, convinced me to move in even while he’d been with other people. Ice crept through my veins as I erected a barrier around my heart. Josh is dead to me. I vowed not to think about him anymore, not to give him one more second of head or heart space. He didn’t deserve it.

The numbing frost was familiar, like an old friend returning with its frigid embrace. I’d learned early on to coat myself in it so I wouldn’t be vulnerable. The biggest risk was burrowing in too far. In the past, I’d become so cozy there, separated from my emotions, distant from life, it had been hard to come back. Like a bear waking up from hibernation.

But that was before, when I was all alone. I had Avery now. And Aunt Thea, and Uncle David. This time, I’d be fine.

The truck moved under Liam’s weight as he jumped back into the cab. He tossed something cold into my lap, followed by a spoon. “Here.”

I blinked down at the mini carton of Cinnamon Toast Crunch ice cream.

“Isn’t that a break-up thing? Ice cream? I saw cinnamon, and I knew you had to have it.” He backed the truck up.

The ice cream froze my legs, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it, afraid of falling apart from the sweetness of the gesture. My armor wasn’t thick enough for this yet.

“You’re not going to cry, are you? I swear, I’ll take back the ice cream. And I’ll eat your burrito.”

I sniffed, blinking away the hot press of tears as his threat gave me the strength I needed. “You wouldn’t like my burrito. It has jalapeños.” I picked up the ice cream and opened the lid, digging the spoon into the creamy surface. The cold dessert hit my tongue, making my mouth tip up in a hint of a smile.

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