Page 72 of Puck'n Bully
Liam seems to shine in the golden sunlight coming in through the clear glass windows. He’s so at ease here with me, like all our fighting and arguing never happened. Does he even realize how much he’s behaving like he belongs with me?
A fierce desire ignites in my chest.
I want to wake up tothisevery day for the rest of my life.
The realization nearly knocks me over.
“Why are you still standing there, Hayden?” Liam calls out with an anxious look on his face. “Aren’t you hungry? Is your fever coming back again?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” I say quickly, dragging my sore legs to the small kitchen table.
I sink into a chair while Liam piles up a plate with pancakes and drizzles them liberally with syrup. Next, he piles up a mountain of scrambled eggs on the side.
“You made all this for me?” I ask, staring at the feast he’s laid out before me.
“Yup. Now, eat,” he says, sliding the plate before me.
The gesture suddenly makes me choke up.
A distant memory I’d long ago drowned surfaces in my mind.
I must’ve been close to ten years old and come back home from an intense practice session that evening. Dad was slumped on a couch with his bottle of whiskey, watching a tape of a game he’d played when he was a professional player.
The stench of whiskey, coupled with the rage in his dark eyes, was enough to keep me silent. I walked into the dark kitchen and went straight to the fridge to find something to eat. For a long time, I rummaged through the sparse contents on the shelves but the only thing I could find to eat was a carton of eggs.
I was too young to cook. Most days, I lived on bread and peanut butter sandwiches, but tonight, I didn’t even have those staples.
I took the eggs out and decided to cook them.
The experience was horrible. My fingers burned when I mistakenly touched the too-hot pan’s rim. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled not to cry. If I complained or made a fuss, Dad would surely beat me up.
So, I persevered. And failed.
The eggs stuck to the pan, turning black while I helplessly tried to scrape the hot pan.
I’d been way too young back then. I had no idea what to do but eat the burned eggs to satiate my wild hunger.
Dad had been in the house but he hadn’t lifted a finger to help me.
All my life, I had to struggle to survive. No one was there to say a kind word or patch up my wounds and injuries.
Until I met Liam, my life was completely devoid of any warmth.
“Hayden, why do you look so pale?” Liam’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts. “Are you feeling okay?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah, it’s just—” I let out a sigh, forcing myself to smile. “It’s nothing.” Liam feels bad enough for me. I don’t need to add to his anxiety by telling him about my pathetic childhood stories.
I focus on the present.
At once, my stomach growls at the sight and smell of the freshly cooked meal. “This looks delicious,” I say, eagerly picking up my fork.
The first bite has me moaning. “Did you put something in the pancakes?” I ask through a mouthful. “They taste so damn delicious.”
Liam grins. “I added vanilla and cinnamon to the batter. I was worried you wouldn’t have an appetite, so I did my best to make the pancakes as appetizing as possible.”
Surprise flickers through me.
Liam is so damn cute. And sweeter than the syrup soaking up the decadent pancakes.
