Page 95 of Your Every Wish
“Is that your friend Liam?” He’s stopped kissing me and is now staring out the kitchen window.
“It is.” I watch Liam carry a stack of firewood into his trailer, jealous of his fireplace. Kennedy and I don’t have one. For some reason that old song “Our House” pops into my head and I suddenly feel sad, even though it’s an uplifting tune about domestic bliss.
It’s just the weather. It’s drizzly and cold.
“Is there something wrong with him?”
“What? Wrong with him? Like how?”
“I don’t know, he seems kind of stooped over, like he’s suffering from an injury.”
I gaze out the window again. Liam looks perfectly fine to me. In fact, the wood he’s hauling has to be half his weight and he’s lifting it like it’s nothing. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Never mind. For a minute there, he looked like he couldn’t handle his load . . . I was probably mistaken.” Dex wraps me in his arms and maneuvers me away from the window.
“Give me five minutes to run over there and make sure he’s okay.” Because what if Liam hurt himself? He’s a self-sufficient guy who wouldn’t dream of visiting the local urgent care if he had indeed been injured.
“Emma, he’s fine.”
“But you said he looked like he was suffering. It’ll only take a second to check.” I’m out the door before Dex can stop me.
By the time I cross over to Liam’s, he has disappeared inside. I bang on his door and he greets me wearing a wide grin. “The boyfriend bail on you?”
“Nope.” I nudge my head at Dex’s Rivian in my driveway. “I just came over to make sure you’re okay.”
His expression turns puzzled. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Dex thought you were walking funny, like maybe you’d been injured carrying wood.”
Liam hitches his brows. “Did he now? Nope, no injuries.” He looks up at the sky. “Just hunkering down for the storm. You want to come in?” He opens the door wider to make room for me.
Out of my periphery, I see Dex coming toward us. “Nah, I better get home.” I start to turn back when Dex joins us on Liam’s doorstep.
He sticks out his hand to Liam and introduces himself.
Liam takes his hand and gives it a good shake. “Liam Duffy. Good to meet you—though we met the last time you were here.”
“Oh yeah? Funny, I don’t remember,” Dex says, and I can’t tell if he’s intentionally being snotty.
He and his circle of trader friends aren’t the most socially adept. They remind me of overgrown frat bros, even the women, always high-fiving, calling each other “Dude,” and drinking more than they can handle. His friend Forbes Hopper (yes, that is really his name) once got so plastered that he vomited out the passenger window of a moving Mercedes-Benz. Let’s just say the motorist behind him was not a happy camper.
Liam nods at Dex. “I definitely remember you.”
While there’s no malice in the statement, I detect a bit of a bite, which isn’t like Liam. He’s nice and patient with everyone. Only last week, he very gently explained to Hadley Ralston that his salt gun was wreaking more havoc on the Papadopouloses’ mobile home than it was on the flies he was trying to kill. Hadley promised to use his Bug Zapper instead.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Liam, but Emma and I have a lot of catching up to do—if you know what I mean.” He winks at Liam and it’s all I can do not to barf. Eww.
Dex takes my hand and walks me back to our trailer.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask as soon as we get inside.
Dex acts like he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.
“Don’t pull that. You know you met Liam last time. And why did you talk about us like we would be next door, making a porn movie? Gross, Dex.” And juvenile. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I don’t like him, that’s what’s going on.”
“What possible reason can you have for not liking Liam? Everyone likes Liam.”
