Page 68 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“You here for him?” he asks, nodding toward Cole’s truck.
My pulse spikes so hard I start stuttering. “Liam—what? You can’t just—”
“You didn’t answer my texts,” he interrupts, his voice low but pointed, like an accusation.
“Because,” I shoot back, hating how breathless I sound. “Because… we can’t keep doing this.”
He leans back against the seat, studying me like he’s trying to memorize something important. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel exposed, like he can see right through all my carefully constructed defenses.
“Then why do you look at me like you’re lying to yourself?”
The question hits me right in the chest. My throat goes tight, and for a moment I can’t breathe properly. “Don’t do that. Not right now.”
“When?” he counters, shifting closer without seeming to move at all. “After you fix it with him? After you pretend I didn’t happen?”
The space inside my car suddenly feels impossibly small, filled with the heat radiating off his body and the weight of everything we’re not saying. “I’m here to talk to Cole. That’s it.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, and there’s something almost sad in his voice. “That’s the problem.”
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the history we’ve built in stolen moments and secret meetings. I can feel the warmth of his arm just inches away from mine, smell the faint trace of soap underneath the lingering scent of practice.
It makes me remember everything I’m trying to forget—the way he kisses like it’s a competition he’s determined to win, how his hands feel when they map my skin, the sound he makes when I whisper his name in the dark. These are memories Cole will never have with me, experiences that belong only to Liam and me, and I hate myself for wanting them back even as I’m sitting here planning to choose someone else.
Liam opens the door, letting in a rush of cold air that makes me shiver. But he pauses before getting out, glancing back at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“I’m capable of a relationship, Harp. You seemed to not want that so––”
“Liam,” I whisper.
“You choose him. I get it,” he says, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will. “He’s a good guy. Better than me, but if you want me, I’m willing to give it a try.”
Tears prick my eyes at the tone of his voice.
Shit.
He looks down. “He’s my best friend. Don’t screw him up more than you already have.”
And then he’s gone, walking toward his truck with that confident stride that never wavers, not looking back once. I watch him go, my heart hammering against my ribs, feeling like I’ve just survived some kind of storm.
I stay frozen in the driver’s seat, trying to process what just happened. My pulse is still thudding in my ears when I see Cole emerge from the rink a few minutes later. He looks relaxed, normal, completely unaware that I’m sitting here having an emotional breakdown in my car.
I should get out. I should walk over there and deliver the speech I’ve been practicing, own my mistakes and try to fix this mess. That was the plan. That’s why I’m here.
But I can’t bring myself to move. Not after Liam. Not with his words still echoing in my head and the memory of his presence still warming the passenger seat. How can I go to Cole and tell him I choose him when five minutes with Liam can still turn me inside out like this?
Cole sees the coffee and looks around. I duck as if I can hide the car from his view, but he doesn’t see me. And then he gets in his truck and drives away without ever knowing I was there.
I sit in the parking lot for another ten minutes, staring at the empty space where his truck was parked, feeling like I’ve failed before I even tried. Finally, I drive home, each mile feeling like a punch to the gut.
Maddie’s at her desk when I walk in, surrounded by takeout menus and wearing the expectant expression of someone waiting for good news. She looks up with hope that immediately dies when she sees my face.
“Please tell me you at least talked to him.”
I shake my head, dropping the car keys on the counter with a clatter that sounds too loud in the quiet apartment. “I bought him coffee, and then Liam…”
She sits up with wide eyes, leaning in. “What do you meanLiam?”
I sink into a chair at our small dining table, suddenly exhausted by the emotional whiplash of the last hour. “He got in my car. Started talking about how I didn’t answer his texts, saying that he will give it a try if I choose him, telling me Cole’s a good guy…” I trail off, not sure how to explain the way Liam can derail my entire thought process just by existing in the same space.
