Chapter 23
Roxy
The cotton softness caresses my cheek, and I smile while I linger between sleep and wakefulness.
As my mind sharpens, pushing yesterday’s events to the forefront, my eyes snap open.
The room is dark, but the blinds are open. Is it night? I snuggle into the luxurious sheets and relish the feeling of being rested. At least physically.
Emotionally, it will take time to recover. To adjust to my new reality.
The space beside me is empty. Liam didn’t stay. I guess that’s a good thing. If it’s a good thing, why do I miss his closeness, his warmth, his scent? His presence.
I get out of bed and use the bathroom. I groan when I glimpse myself in the mirror. I don’t bother looking for my phone to find out what time it is.
Instead I start the shower and let the hot water restore me. As much as possible. When I step out, I turn to the side and study my silhouette.
Nothing’s changed. My body looks the same. And yet… everything has changed. I wish I could call Tee and tell her about the baby.
I wish I had someone in my life who would remind me that this is a joyous occasion. I should try to find the father. It might not be easy, but it’s doable.
I’m good at digging out information, and someone at that club must be able to point me in the right direction.
The thought re-energizes me. I need to get my laptop. Or at least my phone. Wrapping myself in a plush white robe I found in the bathroom, I step out of my room.
The light tells me Liam is not sleeping. I take a deep breath in and straighten my spine. As I turn the corner, I stop in my tracks.
Liam is wearing a pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. The triangle of his torso is mouthwatering.
With his back to me, he seems to be mixing something on the stove. I linger behind him and let myself get lost in the fantasy of this domestic picture.
Regardless of everything that has transpired, I can’t deny the one unfortunate fact. I’m attracted to this man.
Remembering his embrace last night and how safe I felt with him, I almost run back to my room.
Somewhere between meeting this man and getting pregnant, I apparently lost my mind, my courage, and my dignity.
Jesus.
Liam turns, and our gazes lock. Dark circles dip under his eyes. He’s pale, and that perfect face of his has gained a few lines overnight, it seems.
He takes me in, and his gaze softens. “Hi,” he rasps.
“Hi.” I swallow, wishing the unresolved things between us had disappeared.
“How are you feeling?” Turning away, he puts the pan back on the stove and leans down to open the oven.
I use the moment to gather my wits—not very successfully. Crossing the floor, I climb onto the stool at the breakfast counter.
The succulent aroma of fried bacon makes me swallow. I wait for a wave of nausea, but instead my stomach growls. “I’m better. I think.”
He takes a dish out of the oven. “You slept for almost twenty-four hours.”
“What? What time is it?”
“It’s seven in the evening.”
He takes the pan and sprinkles whatever is in the dish with the bacon bits.
“You cook?” I observe his expert moves.
“Don’t get too excited. I raided Xander’s pantry and found very little. This casserole isn’t a masterpiece. Are you hungry?”
He prepares two plates before he drops the pan into the sink and looks at me.
We keep our gazes locked for a beat, and the awkwardness settles between us. I look away, unsure how we can get past this weirdness between us.
The most reasonable solution would be for me to thank him for his help and hospitality and walk away.
I have a lot to attend to: find a job, find Romeo, find an alternative plan for me and Tee before my father fucks up everything. And forget about Liam. That one makes me shudder.
Fuck, I hate this impasse.
“I’m starving. It smells delicious.” I fidget in my chair and chance a look at him.
He nods and puts a plate in front of me. The awkward silence continues as we eat. Me on the stool and him standing across, leaning on the counter.
I don’t know if he doesn’t want to sit beside me, or if he believes I wouldn’t want him near me.
The casserole is scrumptious, but I have to force myself to eat. My appetite sours with the endless loop of thoughts and the thickness of the atmosphere between us.
I don’t know where to go from here. Every direction costs something. Trust would be easier. But ease is hardly the right answer here.
He wants my forgiveness, but he hasn’t earned my surrender.
So we eat in silence. Hoping. Avoiding. Suffering.
We eat in silence, not because there’s nothing to say.
We eat in silence to avoid saying the wrong thing.
Somehow, I eat almost the whole portion before I push the plate away. “Thank you.”
He nods, puts his plate down, and steps closer. There is still the counter between us, but I rush to move away, as if his proximity had a life-threatening effect.
Jesus. Since when have I been so dramatic? Since when do I cower?
“Why are you doing this, Liam?” I face him.
He snaps his head toward me. “What?”
“Why are you taking care of me?”
His sigh is heavy, filled with emotions I don’t want to dissect. But he looks at me with a certain softness that is so unexpected, I almost flinch.
“You shouldn’t do this alone, Roxy.”
I swallow. I regret asking, because the answer shatters me into pieces. I’m not used to having anyone by my side. Wearing my team’s jersey.
The concept feels comforting and dangerous at the same time. And then I remember that this is the man who played me for weeks.
“Your original plan failed, so now you think you can use this situation to own me?”
Closing his eyes, he drops his head and shakes it slightly. When he looks at me, I step back, despite our distance.
His eyes flare with something I can’t decipher. Frustration? Determination? Fear? Hope? All of it at once?
“I told you once you would be the worst possession.”
I frown. The words ring familiar, but I don’t recall where I’d heard them before. “You never told me that.”
As soon as I say it, I recall the lips that uttered them. With final clarity, I remember the night I heard them. My hands drift to my stomach. Romeo.
“Yes, I did, Foxy. I still insist you’d be the worst possession. Nobody can own thunder. I don’t want to own you. I want to stand by you.”
Liam is Romeo? That can’t be?
Moments of our time together flash through my mind. The injured hand. The eyes I found so familiar. The voice. The way he walks.
Jesus. I was so blind. “I didn’t know.”
“At first, I thought you pretended not to, but later, I figured you had no idea.”
I don’t even know what I feel right now. Relief? Another betrayal? A bit of both?
“Why didn’t you say something?”
His jaw tightens. He flexes his fingers. For once, he doesn’t smirk. “I wasn’t ready to admit my failure.”
“Failure?”
He draws in air as if it costs him something. “You keep telling me how much you hate that I make you lose control. Here is the irony, Little Thunder. I followed you to that club with intent.”
The air whooshes out of me, my chest tightening. “You followed me?”
He’s been playing me even before I knew he existed? There is no break for me when it comes to him.
He nods. “I wanted leverage. But somewhere between your fidgeting and your obvious discomfort in that ridiculous dress and sinful heels, I lost clarity. I lost control.”
He steps closer. Not invading my space—just close enough that I can feel the truth vibrating from him.
His warmth and scent envelop me, and I almost whimper at the sensory overload.
“You felt out of place. Too innocent for a room built on hunger.” His mouth curves. Not amused, just remembering the moment. “And then you turned around and sassed me the second I offered to buy you a drink.” He chuckles, but there is no jest in it.
“I forgot why I was there,” he adds, his gaze keeping me a prisoner.
My pulse stutters. My mouth goes dry. My heart is racing as if there were a medal to win.
He takes another step, his body now touching mine. I blink at him, my words forming and dying without reaching the air between us.
I’ve been fighting to keep my independence while I surrendered to his game. But I didn’t know about his true intentions.
I ignore the impulse to walk out, because I can’t help but trust that something between us has been real.
“The revenge didn’t matter. The plan didn’t matter.” His voice drops. “It didn’t control me.”
With his finger, he traces a line down my cheek with tender care, like I’m a precious object he was afraid to break.
I’m about to break. His touch grounds me. Relief I don’t want to accept. Comfort I welcome.
“You, Little Thunder, freed me from it for a moment that night.”
We stare at each other, our breaths coming in shallow bursts.
“You’re Romeo.” Not sure why I choose to say that. It’s like my tired mind needs to absorb the information one bit at a time.
He gives me a sad smile. “When it comes to you, Thunder… to our short but eventful history, I would like to change a lot. I came here to get closer to you. The minute I met you, you became dangerous to everything I thought kept me alive. But I don’t regret a moment of it. On the contrary.”
With so many things swirling in my mind, I don’t even know where to start, so I lean into the most important part. “The baby is yours.”
He cups my cheeks, his hands trembling. “The baby is ours.”