Chapter 29
Jordan
Hands tangle through my hair. His hands. His fingers. This wasn’t a want, it was a need. Liam knew it without me having to say it—hell, he probably needed it as badly as I did—I had to get this day, her, off of me.
Fuck today. I can’t even think about it right now. Can’t think about what happened, how it happened, or what it all means. All I can focus on is him and the way his fingers massage and scratch at my scalp, gently working the shampoo through it, filling the shower with the scent of my cleanser.
My cleanser. My shampoo.
“Tell me,” I murmur above the sound of the water raining down on us. Most of it is hitting me with Liam standing at my back, the shower spraying down the front of my body. “Tell me why you have my shampoo. I know I didn’t leave it here.”
“I told you, I ran out of shampoo, and your hair always looks so good,” he replies, and though I can’t see the smile he’s wearing, I know it’s there.
“Liam.”
“Fireball.”
“Liam,” I say, trying to sound firm, but when his fingers knead into my scalp, it comes out as a moan, and all I want to do is sag against him. “Tell me. Please.”
The breath he takes is deep enough that his chest presses against my back, and he lets it out in a puff.
“Because I missed you. Because I didn’t want you to disappear from my bed.
Because I’m a love-sick fool who made a huge mistake and wanted to torture myself further by not letting this piece of you go. ”
Now I do lean back, turning my head to look over my shoulder. Tender brown eyes stare back at me with so much love and sorrow, it makes my heart ache. I want to take every piece of that grief away from him, and I vow to myself I will, no matter how long it takes me.
“Let me wash your hair,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Let me wash all of you.”
Stepping away to give him my full head, I let his fingers work magic through my hair, and into the rest of my body, allowing the tension to ease from my aching muscles.
He works the lather in deeply, moving from my hairline to the base of my head, into my temples, and everywhere in between.
He seems to know when I especially like a spot, because he works on those longer, until I’m putty in his hands, ready to fall limp against him.
When every inch has been scrubbed and massaged, he turns me and puts me under the water, washing the shampoo out, taking care to make sure it’s all gone.
And when he’s done with that, he combs my conditioner through my hair with his fingers, being extremely gentle to not pull at the knots and tangles.
I needed this. Not just Liam and his hands on me, but the intimacy of this shower. Him taking care of me. Washing everything away and stripping me bare of all the horror. Washing every inch of my skin from head to toe, ensuring that the only thing left on me is him, and him alone.
By the time he’s done, tears are streaking down my cheeks, and he cups my jaw, tilting my head up to him.
He places a kiss on one side of my face, stopping the tear in its tracks, then does the same to the other.
Finally, he finds my lips, my arms sliding around his neck, and his kiss stitches pieces of me together.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I love you,” I tell him, and his body trembles against me. “I love you.” This time he seems to vibrate. “I love you.” A full on quiver that turns into a shake.
Some instinctual part of me understands how much he needs to hear it.
After today, after not having the love he deserved growing up, and then having to stare that in the face today, I know he needs to feel it in his bones.
So I keep telling him. With every “I love you” his body shudders harder, his face burying into my neck as I hold him as close as I can, and let him get it out.
When he finally starts to calm down, I do to him what he did for me, washing and conditioning his hair, then cleansing every inch of his skin until only I exist on him.
The water turned lukewarm minutes ago, despite him turning the hot water all the way up, and when we finally turn it off, I know we were only moments away from it turning cold.
Without a word, he wraps me in a towel, dries me off, and puts me into one of his t-shirts and a pair of my sweats before dressing similarly. We stopped by Quinn’s house on our way to his to pick up a bag of my stuff for the next few days, and then picked Tosha up from his dad’s.
With both of us clean and clothed, Liam scoops me up in his arms, carrying me to the sectional in his living room before stretching out and pulling me between his legs to lay on top of him.
“Tosh,” he calls out, and thirty seconds later, the gorgeous shepherd cross appears from wherever she’d been sleeping to crawl up on the other part of the sectional, laying her head on his shoulder so we’re eye to eye.
We stare at each other, me scratching the top of her head while Liam runs his fingers through my damp hair, and the last thing on my mind as I drift into sleep is how much I love both of them.
For the last twenty minutes I’ve been staring into the abyss of Liam’s living room while he sleeps beneath me.
I have no idea what time it is. When we got here the sun was just starting to set, but I can tell from the depth of darkness peering at me through the window that it’s been down for a while.
I’ve been lying here, feeling Liam’s chest rise and fall beneath my head, using the motion to ground me as I go through the chaos of today. After the shower and some sleep, it feels more manageable to think about it.
It was supposed to be a normal day at work. Normal in an emergency room can mean a million different things, but this was so far from normal that I don’t know how to begin processing it.
I think it’s even harder to digest knowing that it was Liam’s mom.
Liam’s mom. Jesus.
If I don’t know how to unpack this, how is he going to?
Therapy.
Right. Well, that might help. I’m pretty sure he won’t be allowed to go back to work without some.
Especially if my brother has anything to say about it.
Nate wouldn’t even let us leave without talking to someone, despite Liam fighting him on it.
The hospital brought in a trauma counselor for me to speak with, and the fire department got their guy to talk to Liam.
It was probably the best thing for us both to debrief a counselor and start that road of recovery.
My phone lights up on the coffee table across from the couch.
It pulls my attention away from the streak on the TV screen that desperately needs to be dusted.
I can tell from here that it’s a text, but nothing more.
Probably from Nate. Or maybe Savanna. I guess it could be from anyone really.
Someone from the hospital checking up on me.
Honestly, I don’t care. My phone has gone off a few times since I’ve been awake, but I have no desire to move from my spot or wake Liam.
I have no desire to disturb the warmth and security that I feel lying here with his arms wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes.
Being here with him feels like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
“I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head from here,” Liam murmurs, his voice groggy, and thick with sleep.
“Oh!” I squeak in surprise, tilting my head towards his. “You’re awake.”
He sucks in a deep breath and stretches beneath me before releasing it as his body goes slack again. “The smell of Tosha’s fart can bring back the dead.”
I can’t help but giggle. He’s not wrong. “I thought that was you.”
Liam scoffs. “Please. I’m like a woman. I don’t fart.”
“First, I hate to disappoint, but women fart,” I inform him, though I know he’s only teasing me. “Second, I’ve known you long enough to know that’s a pile of bullshit.”
He snickers as he pulls my hair off to the side, away from my face. “Can’t wait for the day you fart in front of me. I’ll know our relationship has really made it then.”
“You’re ridiculous. I’ve already farted in front of you. You just didn’t know it because it smells like roses.”
That earns me a deep laugh. “Now who’s spewing bullshit.”
My giggle settles between the two of us until comfortable silence fills the air again.
It’s so easy with him. It takes no effort.
I know we’ve still got a lot to talk about, but it’s nice that even with the chaos and crazy of today, and the heartache of the last ten days, we can still lie here together and laugh.
“You gonna tell me what you were thinking about?” he asks, his fingers running through my hair, relaxing me to the point I could fall back to sleep.
At least until I think back to what I was thinking about. I don’t want to scare him off when I just got him back. He may have been willing to declare his love for me, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to hear a lot. Especially after today.
“I don’t want to freak you out,” I tell him in a hushed tone as my face turns into his chest.
I may not be able to see it, but I can practically feel the smile on his face. “Well now you have to tell me.”
There’s no hesitation in him. No stutter in the way his fingers move through my hair. It feels safe. He feels safe. Like I can tell him anything, and I don’t need to worry about his reaction.
No, that’s not quite it. It’s more like I can trust that he’s ready to hear these things. I don’t need to hold things back. He’s ready.
“I was thinking how this… you, wrapped in your arms… it feels like home,” I whisper, turning my head back towards the living room. “Safe. Comfy. Protected.”