Page 10 of Bad Blood

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Name it.”

“Will you stop worrying about this? You’re starting to freak me out.”

I frown, leaning back in the booth, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. I don’t have the best track record of how I handle things. After our parents passed away, the overwhelming responsibility of trying to fill their shoes was too much for me to handle, and I figured the best way to deal with it was by becoming best friends with a bottle of Jack. Unfortunately, Liam took the brunt of my decision, and he’s always held it against me.

I don’t blame him. I was immature and, at twenty-four, didn’t have any idea what it would be like to raise a fourteen-year-old. But five years later, we’re fine. He helped me grow up, and I’ve learned a lot. One thing is that Jack and I don’t mix well. And another is that I won’t do that to him again.

“But I am worried.”

“It could be nothing.”

“What’s with the urgency of your appointment?”

“They want a definitive diagnosis.” He uses air quotes.

“A what?”

“Dr. Gibbons said the findings aren’t conclusive, and he wants a second opinion with a specialist.”

“You ready for finals?” Liam’s favorite waitress, Crissy, interrupts as she stops next to our table, pen and pad in one hand, the other on her hip. “I need to study for my freaking gen-chem test. These classes are killing me.”

Liam’s shoulders droop with relief at her interruption. And I wish I could get her to scram.

“Not everyone’s cut out for college,” I mumble. Liam kicks me under the table. Why don’t I ever think before I speak? The last thing I need is for him to be pissed at me because I hurt her feelings. I try to correct my fumble and glance up, meeting Crissy’s shocked gaze. Her face sours. I don’t get what Liam sees in her. Hot, sure. Legs for days, absolutely. But her lack of inhibition concerns me. I no longer see the appeal of college girls, even if they make for good distractions.

“I guess not,” she says, her smile quickly dissolves.

I have a chance to fucking redeem myself, but I couldn’t give two shits about Crissy or how I should treat her.

Liam studies me for a beat and shoots a look at me that says I need to choose otherwise.

My brain screeches to a halt. “I went for a while. Wasn’t my thing,” I say, trying to thaw the situation.

Liam gives her a sheepish, apologetic grin and hands over his menu. “I have time tonight if you want to study. This psych test is my last one for the semester.”

Her body relaxes at his offer. “Seriously?” She scoots into the booth beside him, cupping her chin in her hand as she settles her elbow on the table. “I haven’t even started. You have time tonight?”

He shrugs, devoting all his attention to her as he shoves his books and pens out of the way. “Yeah, I have nothing else going on. I took that last semester. It’s still pretty fresh in my brain.”

She narrows her gaze with an observant grin and rubs her hand over his upper arm. “You’re going for the PT program, right? How many more semesters do you have after this one?”

He shakes his head and offers a quiet laugh. “I’m going for my doctorate in physical medicine. They’re basically the same thing.”

“Only four extra years of college,” I mumble under my breath.

“Do you have plans Friday night?” Crissy asks Liam after she shoots daggers in my direction, pulling her pouty bottom lip between her teeth.

“Not that I’m aware of. What about you, princess?” He directs the question to me.

Crissy tenses and gives an awkward giggle, not wanting me in on the invite. “A bunch of us are going to celebrate the end of the term at Kappa Sigma’s on Friday night if you’re interested.”

Liam waits as I try to decide whether or not I want to pretend I have something better to do. “I’m free,” I say as a definitive answer—unless something better comes up—it’s not like he needs me to accompany him. I’m too old for frat life, but I can always appreciate when he’s looking for a designated driver. Plus, it may be an excellent distraction to get my mind off things.

“Need a ride?” Liam directs the question to Crissy, and I lose track of their conversation.

Small talk is normal. It’s what normal people do on normal Tuesday mornings.

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