Page 43 of Lucky Strike

My heart leaps at his words, but it sinks just as fast. I can’t allow myself to get tangled up in this. “You’re drunk.”

“That doesn’t change how I feel.”

Swallowing, I look up at him. “You’ll regret this tomorrow.”

His hand falls away. “Maybe.”

Reaching back, I open the door and step into my room. My cheek tingles from his touch as I close the door. A second later, his footsteps pad quietly away. I should feel vindicated. Conlan hasn’t forgotten. He still feels things. But somehow, it makes me feel even worse.

Because he might miss me, but he doesn’t want to.

The routineI share with Liam goes something like this: get dressed, have breakfast, walk the dogs. Some days we have jiu jitsu, other days we go on a Grand Adventure (the library, a museum, any number of parks). Lunch. Downtime with toys or TV, and then we wash up and helpNola get dinner ready. Liam’s jobs include scrubbing veggies, which he manages with a step stool and little brush shaped like a potato, and setting the table.

“They like helping at this age,” I tell an uncertain Nola the first time Liam circles the table with a fistful of silverware. “Might as well take advantage of that.”

After dinner, if Conlan’s home, they take the dogs for another walk. If not, Liam and I play or do crafts on the patio until bath time. My goal is to sufficiently tire him out so that he doesn’t fight bedtime. Our busyness tires me out, too. I’m usually out like a light by nine.

Conlan gets up at the crack of dawn to work out. I know because I see him leave from my window every morning, his taillights disappearing down the road in the half-dark. Other than that, he’s unpredictable. He appears at random times, our eyes meeting across the kitchen or through the glass patio door, his slate-gray gaze reminding me of the things he said outside my bedroom. He seems consumed by work, whether downtown or at home, fielding conference calls and Zoom meetings. Tristan comes over so much he has a guest room. There are others, too: Johnny, Malachi, Alex, Finn. My shadows, Terry and Mitch. They drink and smoke out on the patio for hours, their laughter muffled as I climb the stairs for bed. As moody as Conlan is, I’m glad he has good friends. An inner circle of his own.

Still no women, though. Maybe he’s too busy to date, though there are other ways he could … scratch that itch. I try not to think about it, then I try not to think about why I don’t want to think about it.Damn it, Conlan. Why’d he have to muddy the waters with his little interrogation the other night?

Sometimes I really miss you.

On Thursday, he leaves for Savannah to look into a whiskey distillery their family is considering. His absence is both a blessing and a curse. A relief and an emptiness. As much as we avoid each other, I didn’t realize how much I revolved around him until he left.

Meanwhile, Maeve’s getting ready for her ballet company’s East Coast tour, so on Friday she and I take Liam to the movies. He starts coughing later that night and by Saturday has a mild fever. I message Maeve in a panic, hoping she didn’t get sick, because that would be the worst timing ever, but she’s fine. I make Liam a bed of blankets andpillows in the family room so he can binge his favorite cartoons while I order children’s cold medicine from the pharmacy and make chicken noodle soup from scratch. The kitchen is Nola’s domain during the week, so I stay in my lane, but I miss cooking. It can be therapeutic.

Unsurprisingly, I wake up on Sunday with the same symptoms. I eat some of the soup and order a pizza for Liam, who’s already starting to bounce back because of course he is. It’s exhausting now that I can’t keep up, but he’s a good boy, sweet and concerned. He keeps putting his hand on my forehead and telling me to rest, mimicking what I’d been doing to him.

I just have to hold on until three, which is when Conlan will be home. He can take over, and I can go to sleep.

But then I get a text, right when he should be landing in Boston.

Missed my flight.

Be home a little later.

“Bria.”Conlan shakes me awake.

Blinking groggily, I sit up from my nest of blankets. Liam’s fast asleep, tucked into me like a little bean,Dino-Warsstill droning in the background. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but judging by the purple-blue light coming through the windows, it’s dusk. “You’re back,” I rasp.

I can see the exhaustion etched on his face as he straightens up, taking in the scene. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“We’re a little under the weather.” I yawn, rubbing my eyes. “Well, Liam’s better now, but I got whatever he had.”

“Shit,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my forehead. “You’re pretty warm. Why didn’t you call me?”

“There was no point.” I brush his hand away, wondering if Liam’s cough medicine would help me at all.

He furrows his brow. “You could’ve called Nola, at least.”

“It was her day off. And I didn’t want to expose her to whatever this is.” Careful not to disturb Liam, I ease from the couch. I feel worse nowthan I did when I fell asleep. “Did you know Insta-Eats delivers stuff from the pharmacy? I got Liam’s cold meds along with pizza.” Conlan follows me into the kitchen, watching as I fill the electric tea kettle with water. “How’d you miss your flight, by the way?”

“Long story.” He pauses, pushing his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It’s fine.” I start to offer him a tired smile, but then I see what the lighting in the living room didn’t show me: the large bruise smudging his cheekbone. His left eye is starting to swell, too. Dropping my tea bag, I walk over and peer closely at his face. “What the hell happened to you?”

He exhales roughly, his mouth turned down. “Nothing.”

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