Page 37 of Ward Willing
The one in my bathroom now says#girlboss, and don’t even get me started on the ones in the kitchen.
Life happens, wine helps.
More espresso, less depresso.
Keep calm and drink on.
I get it. Millennials like their beverages and their signs.
But the worst offender of them all is the large sign in the dining room.
Live, Laugh, Love.
I pretend to gag thinking about it as I adjust the black mini skirt on my hips. I’m going to a meetup with Orion before Scotty’s gig.
The same gig where Liam will be keeping me company.
That’s a first for us.
I could psychoanalyze why he volunteered to drive me to Scotty’s show, but right now, I need to find something to wear or I’m going to be late.
I open my bedroom door and look both ways before sneaking down the hall to Liam’s bedroom. The cracking sound permeates the air, so I know he’s still chopping wood outside.
He’s been doing that a lot lately.
I quickly tiptoe into his closet and pull the plastic storage box out from the back. I’ll never admit it, because that would be like admitting defeat, but Liam and my dad were super cool back in the day. The early 2000s pop punk music scene was their forte, and I know they got to go to a bunch of shows I’d kill to go to. I loveallemo music. It was the best decade for music, and I will die on that hill.
Liam keeps all of his old band T-shirts in this storage box, and every few months, I steal one or two of them to wear to a gig. Since Scotty’s band is a cover band, and all they usually sing is the pop punk music from the early 2000s, it’s nice to have one of the original band tees. Plus, they remind me of my dad, and how I listened to that music growing up.
I always return the shirts, and Liam has no idea.
I snatch an old Blink-182shirt from the bin before replacing the storage box to its original place. Throwing the soft, vintage tee over my head, I’m assaulted by the evocative scent ofLiam.Musky and woodsy with a hint of licorice. I bunch the fabric up against my face and inhale, letting out a small moan.
I walk back to my full-length mirror and tuck Liam’s shirt in, smiling as I admire the outfit. With a pair of fishnets, it’ll be perfect.
I pull them on before grabbing socks and my high-heeled, lace up boots. Running my hand through my hair, I grab my leather jacket and pull it on. I pocket my phone, keys, and lipstick before quickly making my way downstairs. I can still hear the thwacking of wood, so I’m safe for a few more minutes. Opening the rideshare app, I request a car. Quietly, I make my way into the kitchen and fill up a glass of water while I wait. My eyes skirt over to the window, where I see Liam chopping wood in the distance.
Shirtless.
The water dribbles down my chin, and I quickly wipe it away as I watch him work. His back is to me, and with each movement, I see his muscles ripple and contract. He’s wearing gloves, but they do nothing to stop his fingers from forming calluses—I know because I’ve felt them before.
At the funeral.
The week after.
And when his hands were on my thighs in that storage room in Catalina.
Growing up, I assumed he lifted weights or worked out every day. But nope. He spends an hour every few days chopping wood and hauling that wood to the shed out back. In the winter, it hardly gets cold enough to burn fires, but Liam loves his wood-burning fireplace, and he has enough of it now to fuel an entire small city.
After finishing my water, I check on the car I requested, noting it’s a couple of minutes away. I put the glass in the dishwasher and head to the front door—which is on the other side of the house from Liam.
Just as I’m closing the door and pulling my jacket closed, I hear the crunching of boots on dirt, and before I can react, Liam comes around the corner of the house.
My brain fizzles as my eyes sweep over his bare chest, catching on a bead of sweat running down his abs. I stop walking as his gaze lifts to my face.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, his voice gritty.
“Um…”
