Page 33 of A Series of Rooms
He regretted it the second it left his mouth, because the air in the room seemed to freeze over at his words, Liam visibly stiffening next to him. In his periphery, Jonah saw him turn his head in his direction.
“Is that why you were crying?” he whispered. “Were they...?”
Jonah squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t—I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to drag down the mood.”
“Jonah, if you want to talk about it...”
“I don’t,” Jonah said quickly. “Please, forget I said that.”
Liam pulled in a deep breath, but eventually conceded with a nod. They fell back into a heavy silence, thicker this time than the comfortable, light one they had before, andJonah hated himself for ruining the moment. It had been so nice while it lasted.
“Can I choose a different confession?” Jonah dared to ask, his voice pinched tight. He was glad Liam was no longer looking at him.
“‘Course. Go for it.”
Jonah swallowed, pressing down the sudden swell of nervousness in his chest, because this needed to be said.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
He didn’t dare turn his head to see Liam’s reaction. They both kept their eyes on the ceiling, even as Liam’s pinky unlatched from his, just long enough to slide his palm fully over Jonah’s, lacing all their fingers together. He gave a squeeze, and Jonah gave it right back.
“Yeah,” Liam whispered. “You’re mine, too.”
CHAPTER 16
Liam
Jonah’s breathing had leveled out some minutes ago, the near-constant crease that lived between his brows smoothed out in a rare show of peace.
Liam wasn’t far behind. He could feel his own eyelids starting to sag, dipping into his vision with each slow, lethargic blink. Some rational part of his mind—growing quieter by the second—urged him to get up and pull Jonah’s legs up onto the bed, to lift him into a proper position and cover him so they could both get a more restful sleep. He wanted to, but he was so, so, delightfully drunk, and his limbs felt so heavy and somehow, he was comfortable right where he was.
Mostly, the idea of letting go of Jonah’s hand for any amount of time, for any reason, was an absolute deal breaker.
“I have another confession,” he whispered into the silent room.
Liam let his eyes trail over the profile of Jonah’s face; the long, sloped nose, the cupid’s bow of his lip, the eyelashes that kissed the skin of his cheek with his eyes closed and a jawline that was just a little more pronounced than it should have been. Liam tightened his hand around Jonah’s.
The alcohol was a sedative quickly pulling him under, but Liam knew, even then, that wasn’t the reason for the warmth that flowered in his chest.
“I think I might accidentally love you.”
CHAPTER 17
Jonah
The first sensation Jonah registered, as darkness began to split at the edges, was coarse fabric under his cheek.
The next was pain. First in his head, sharp and heavy and pulsing, then trickling down his body as he came to awareness. He hurt everywhere.
His eyelids were as heavy as the rest of him, but they were the only parts he could even think about moving. It took considerable effort to hold them open, blinking slowly as he scanned his surroundings. He couldn’t see much. Somewhere above him, dim light painted a haze at the edge of his vision—sunlight breaking through a crack in the wood slats that covered a high-up window.
He was in a basement.
With that realization came the sudden awareness of the earthy, damp smell, like rotted wood and age. He tried to push himself up but flattened again at the sharp stab of pain through his core. The movement accompanied the familiar groan of bed springs. Hedragged his fingers over the surface beneath him and realized it was a bare mattress.
Memory came in short, sporadic bursts.
Mr. Becker. His house. The blood.
