Page 122 of Bad Blood

I chuckle under my breath. It’s no wonder we never figure out our shit. We go from arguing to fighting to horsing around. I want to talk to him about what’s happening, but things always play out this way.

“We’re not going on the trip,” I holler.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“Discussion time’s over.”

Axel paws at Liam’s door, but he doesn’t open it for him.

“He’s abandoning you too, huh, boy?”

“I’m not abandoning anyone,” he shouts. “It’s me, Liam. I don’t do that sorta shit.”

“Ha. Ha.” Ouch, with the jab.

I stop next to the door, rubbing Axel’s ears. “I’m going to grab Yogi’s. Interested?”

There’s a crash from the opposite side of the door, a thunk, and a possible cuss word that I can’t make out. I’m pretty sure I scared the shit out of him.

“Is that a yes?”

The door creaks open a sliver, and Liam peeks out, guarding the entrance with his body. There’s no point in trying. He knows I could get in there if I wanted to.

Liam flings the door open, and Axel barrels past him as he trudges out of his room, past me, and into the kitchen. “Can you get extra soup?”

I grab my keys off the coffee table, hating the idea of leaving him after all this. Maybe some time out of the apartment would do him good. The way to Liam’s heart starts with food. This time, I’ll make sure his soup is hot. “And the crispy things? Wanna come?”

A muffled “not interested” comes from out of view. I enter the kitchen and find Liam standing on the counter with his arm buried inside the pantry. He’s on his tiptoes on the edge, inches from toppling over.

“What—and I can’t stress this enough—the fuck are you doing?” I’m instantly at his side, wrapping an arm around his legs and pushing him back.

“Hey, knock it off. I’m trying to get something.”

“What?”

He grunts and pushes against me, reaching further so his head and shoulders disappear. “This,” he says, offering me a box as he pushes off the door frame and stands upright on the counter. He drops to his haunches and bounces onto the kitchen floor.

“Thanks.” He grabs the box from me and goes to the other side of the island, plopping onto a stool.

I take a minute to process what’s so important about the box and why he needs it now, but then it clicks.

It’s Mom’s—her box of phone numbers.

“Why do you need that?” I lean over the counter, stretching for the box, but Liam jerks it out of my reach.

“To call.”

I need a minute.

Maybe several of them.

The mental image I get of her probable reaction to finding out about Liam and his cancer has my stomach in a bind. My body stiffens, and my hands ball into fists of their own volition. The knot in my throat constricts, and the tightness in my chest returns.

He searches through the note cards, pulling a green one free from the box and waving it in the air.

“Hell. No.” I lunge for the card, and he leans back, keeping it out of my reach.

“You’re gonna have to get used to following my lead with this, Dax. I need to ask her something.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and turns on the stool, glancing at the note card.

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