Page 105 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Cole appears at my side, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Having fun?"
"Yeah. Great game tonight."
"Thanks." He kisses my temple, then follows my gaze to where Liam is now leaning heavily against the counter. His expression shifts. "Shit."
"Is he okay?"
"I don't know. He's been..." Cole trails off, jaw tight. "He's been different this year."
"Maybe you should talk to him."
"Harper—"
"I know it's complicated. But he's your best friend, Cole. And he clearly needs someone right now."
Cole is quiet for a moment, watching Liam with this conflicted expression. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Go."
He kisses me quickly. "I'll be right back."
But he's not right back. Ten minutes pass, then twenty, then fifty. I try to distract myself with conversation, with dancing, with anything that will keep me from obsessing over where Cole is and what he's saying to Liam. But the worry gnaws at me.
Finally, after more than an hour, I can't take it anymore. I excuse myself from Maddie and start searching the house. Upstairs rooms, the basement, the kitchen—nothing. Then I head outside.
I find them on the back patio, sitting on the steps. Cole's shoulders are tense, and Liam is slumped beside him, head in his hands. The air between them is thick with tension.
"Sorry," I say, stepping outside. "I was worried."
Cole looks up, and there's something in his expression that makes my chest tight. Exhaustion, maybe. Or frustration. "It's fine."
"Is everything okay?"
"Peachy," Liam mutters without lifting his head.
"Maybe you can convince him to drink water," Cole says, gesturing to the bottle sitting untouched beside Liam.
Liam suddenly pushes off the steps and shoves Cole's shoulder. "Fuck off."
"Hey!" I step forward instinctively, protective energy surging through me. "Keep your hands to yourself, Liam. Cole's just trying to help."
Liam laughs, but there's no humor in it. "There's no helping me, unfortunately."
"Why is that?"
He starts to move toward me, and I see Cole tense. But before Liam can get close, Cole grabs his arm. "Liam. Let's go home and sleep it off."
"I don't want to go home."
"You're drunk. You need to sleep."
"I need—" Liam stumbles, and Cole catches him. "I need to forget."
"Forget what?" Cole asks, but Liam just shakes his head.
Between the two of us, we manage to get Liam to Cole's truck. He's dead weight, mumbling incoherently as we buckle him into the passenger seat.
"What's your address?" Cole asks him.
