Page 53 of Ward Willing
I pull my hand away. “What about the back of your head? You fell?—”
“It’s fine.”
“Let me check,” I insist, running my left hand behind his ear and feeling for blood.
“I promise you, I’m fine.”
His skull feels okay to me, so I remove my hand from his soft hair.
I’d forgotten how soft it is. How easy it was to pull when his face was between my thighs…
That thought scatters in my brain, branching off into a bunch of different tangents.
How did I never know his eyes are mostly grey with blue speckles?
How did I never notice the single freckle on the bridge of his nose?
What if he’d beenreallyhurt tonight and he’d bled out in that alley before I found him?
That last thought hits me, and I have to steady myself. A million other thought fragments explode in my brain, with one single train of thought practically screaming for attention.
If something happened to him, I’d have no one left.
But it’s not about being alone. The thing that makes me panic is being withouthim.
My chest aches as I grab a new paper towel, wetting it in the sink before stepping between his legs again. I dab his nose, and he winces as I clean the rest of the blood slowly and diligently.
My vision blurs when I think of all the worst case scenarios that could’ve happened tonight, and regret claws through me. My breath catches when I look down at all of the bloodied paper towels I’ve used. Blinking rapidly to dispel the tears threatening to spill, I lean back and look at his face, hands on his shoulders. The blood is mostly gone, but the black eye is going to be around for a few days.
His eyes dart between mine, widening slightly when he notices my eyes are starting to tear up.
“Hey, Zoe?—”
“Why did you tell them to fuck off?” I interrupt, angry on his behalf and also exasperated that he’d willingly put himself in danger.
Something shutters behind Liam’s eyes. “Honestly?” I nod as he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, I get a whiff of licorice again. “I was angry. What if it had beenyouin that alley?”
My eyes sting, and my hands curl around the fabric of his flannel shirt. “Well, that was stupid,” I whisper, giving him a quivery smile. “What if they’d had a knife or a gun?”
Liam’s nose scrunches so imperceptibly that I wouldn’t have noticed it if I weren’t looking for a reaction.
Outrage sparks through me. “They did, didn’t they?” I ask, my voice catching. His morose expression is an admission of guilt if I ever saw one. “You could’ve beenkilled,” I hiss. “You’re lucky you were just knocked out. And on yourbirthday,” I chastise.
I almost ask him why he chose to spend his fortieth with me at my Scotty’s show, but I have a feeling I’m not ready for the answer. I learned a long time ago that Liam’s love language is acts of service; he’s alwaysdoing thingsfor other people.
“It’s almost like you’re worried about me,” he replies, the corners of his lips curving upward.
“That must be a foreign feeling for you,” I blurt. “Since you seem to worry about everyone but yourself.”
He barks a laugh. “You’re not wrong. I grew up worried about my father drinking too much. Worried about Orion with his new stepfather and stepsister, and thenhisdrinking. Worried about the staff at the castle whenever my father would have one of his outbursts. Worried about Chase never finding someone who accepted him fully. Worried about Miles never letting anyone in. Worried about Malakai and the fact that he internalized everything growing up. Worried about you…” His eyes lock on mine.
“I’m fine,” I urge. “You don’t need to take care of me anymore.”
“But I do. Because if I don’t, who will?”
Warmth fills me, and I can’t deny I love hearing him say that. Love hearing how much hewantsto take care of me.
There are so many nuanced reasons why it makes me happy that I won’t get into, but right now, I’m grateful to be on the receiving end of it.
