Page 27 of The Dating Coach
"Someone has to do it," I said, then felt pretentious. "I mean, I just... I watched cancer take someone I loved when I was young. I want to be part of finding better answers."
"That's incredible," Liam said softly. The admiration in his voice made something flutter in my chest.
"What about you?" I deflected to Henry. "What's the plan after graduation?"
"Law school, probably," Henry said without enthusiasm. "Following the family tradition. Third generation of legal minds, can't break the streak now."
"But?" I prompted, recognizing the tone of someone else living for others' expectations.
"But I'd rather teach," he admitted. "Elementary school. Maybe second or third grade. I love kids, love watching them figure things out. But try explaining to my father why I'd give up a potential six-figure salary to deal with seven-year-olds and budget cuts."
"The seven-year-olds would be lucky to have you," Mia said firmly. "Anyone who can explain hockey plays to me could definitely teach math to second graders."
Henry beamed at her. "Thanks, kid."
"Not a kid," Mia protested. "I'm almost eighteen."
"When?" I asked, the date suddenly hitting me. "Oh God, it's this month."
"Yes," Mia confirmed. "Not that it matters. Not like we can have a party or anything."
"Why not?" Frank demanded. "Turning eighteen is huge! You can vote, buy lottery tickets, get arrested as an adult—"
"Great selling points," Karen said dryly.
"We could do something small," Liam suggested. "At the house. Just us."
"You don't have to—" Mia started.
"We want to," Liam said firmly. "Right, guys?"
"Absolutely," Henry agreed. "I make a mean birthday cake. From a box, but still."
"And I can decorate," Frank added. "I still have streamers from the last three parties we threw."
Watching my sister's face light up as they planned her birthday, seeing how naturally she fit with these people who'd become our accidental family, I felt that dangerous warmth in my chest expand. When Liam's hand found mine under the table, squeezing gently, I didn't pull away.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Always," he whispered back, and the word felt like a promise.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of laughter and terrible jokes. But underneath it all, I was hyperaware of Liam beside me – the way he automatically ordered Mia's drink refill when he noticed it was empty, how he deflected Frank's probing questions about our "study sessions," the careful way he made sure I was included in every conversation even when hockey dominated the topic.
As we walked back to campus—Mia linking arms with Frank and Henry, Karen walking alongside them debating the merits of chocolate versus vanilla cake—Liam fell into step beside me.
"She's going to be okay," he said quietly. "We won't let anything happen to her."
"We," I repeated. "You keep saying we."
"Problem with that?"
I thought about how naturally he'd stepped into this role, how much I'd come to rely on his steady presence. "No," I admitted. "No problem."
He stopped walking, waited until I met his eyes. "Good."
I stood there on the sidewalk, looking up at him in the lamplight, feeling like I was balanced on the edge of something irreversible. Behind us, Mia laughed at something Frank said.
He kissed me. Right there on the sidewalk, under the stars and streetlights, with our friends probably watching. It was soft and sure and felt like coming home.
