Chapter 35
Tessa
"Three, four, five… dammit."
I swipe out of my Calendar app, set my phone beside my laptop in front of me, and drop my head into my hands.
In the last few days, Jo's SweetCheck app has notified me of too many low readings. It got me wondering if maybe it's time to revisit the idea of her having an insulin pump instead of relying on her to dose herself based on her CGM readings. But then I calculated the weeks until her birthday—five.
There are only five weeks until Jo turns twenty-six, which means just five weeks until she loses coverage under my dad's insurance. The research I've done all night says that approval alone for the pump can take up to six weeks—and that's only if I get her to agree to it… now.
There's no way we'll make it in time while she's still insured.
And knowing Jo, she has no plans to find benefits elsewhere afterward.
I knew when she was diagnosed a few months back that she should have gotten one immediately.
I was right, of course, and if she had listened, maybe Jo's lack of responsibility over her diabetes wouldn't eat up my only time alone.
But she didn't, and it does. Because Jo's my sister, and taking care of her—of all my siblings—comes as naturally as breathing.
My ears perk up as the garage door rattles to life.
Liam was gone for a short series in Chicago the past few days, but insisted he take Ruthie to soccer practice the second he landed.
I was glad, of course, for the time they'd have together and for the time off I'd get after a few days working 24/7.
But the brief glance I caught of him when he pulled into the driveway wasn't nearly enough to ease my ache for him.
Especially after his words on the last night we shared.
The laundry room door bursts open, and I slam my laptop shut. I stand from the stool, spinning around and leaning my palms against the counter, waiting for Ruthie and her chipper greeting.
And for him.
"Hey," I sing as Ruthie stomps through the living room. "How was—"
"Soccer's the worst," she pouts as she flops onto the sofa. "I'm quitting."
"What?" I take a step forward as Liam walks through the doorway. My breath hitches, and I pause in my tracks, torn between my excitement to see him and the worry knotting in my chest for Ruthie. "Quitting?" I ask, my gaze set on him.
Liam shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Okay," Ruthie says, flicking her eyes toward the ceiling. She burrows deeper into the cushion, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not quitting… but I'm also not going to that stupid game this weekend."
Once again, I look at Liam, but his only response—as he defers to Ruthie—is a slow, heavy breath.
Ruthie stays silent, the crease in her brows deepening as she kicks her feet up on the coffee table.
My eyes dance back and forth between the two of them, widening as if to say Will someone fill me in?
"The parent-player game," Liam eventually explains, stepping further into the space.
I stare at him, waiting for literally any other details.
He walks past Ruthie, pulls out the stool beside me, and drops down onto it.
I ignore—or at least try to ignore—the smell of him that wafts toward me.
I've been waiting for it for days—only casually inhaling deeply as I walked past his bedroom.
"Sets of players and one of their parents play against other players and their parents," he continues. I wait for the pieces to click together, but my face must flash my confusion.
"I'm away this weekend," he reminds me.
My heart drops for Ruthie as she throws her arms open. "So, once again, I'm the outcast with no mom to fill in."
I exhale, losing what little air I had left from being this close to Liam.
"What about your uncle?" I offer, searching for a solution. "Or your Aunt Alex? I'm sure either of them would love to play."
Ruthie simply groans, so I turn to Liam.
"Levi's away this weekend too," he says. "And Alex and Cooper are traveling with him."
I whip back toward Ruthie, watching her pick at the tiny holes in the mesh of her shorts like she wishes she were small enough to crawl into one of them. "Brooke, maybe?" I suggest. "Or…"
Ruthie throws her hands over her face as her head falls back onto the cushion behind her. I peer over at Liam, his eyes set on me, and my pulse spikes as my brain scrambles for options.
He reaches forward, taking my hand—risky but grateful. He gives it a gentle squeeze before letting go, a soft, closed-lip smile on his face. I shake my head in denial, and he mirrors me, shaking his for an entirely different reason—admitting defeat.
He's been here before.
"No," I say, finding Ruthie again. "There has to be—"
"Wait!" Her body language flips as she sits up straight, her eyes full of hope. Liam and I both freeze, waiting for her to finish. "Will you do it, Tess?"
I stay frozen, her words washing over me. My throat tightens with emotion, but a quiet relief loosens in my chest. "Me?" I question.
Ruthie nods vigorously, and I feel Liam's eyes on me. I meet his gaze—jaw tight, throat moving up and down. I think at first he might be upset that she asked, but when the corners of his lips turn up, I know the flare in his nostrils isn't sadness or anger. It's pride.
And that same rush of relief.
"Are… are you sure?" I ask her.
She stands eagerly. "Yes! It'd be so fun. Plus, we'd totally kick Kenzie and her mom's snooty butts."
"Roo…" Liam warns.
I laugh, but tears threaten to fall. I'm not great at soccer, but I'm athletic enough. And no, I don't really have the mental space to deal with these… snooty moms as Ruthie called them. But this? I can make time for this.
I clear my throat, choking them back. "Well, in that case… hell yeah," I say, my voice much steadier than I feel.
Ruthie giggles, her eyes darting to Liam, and my hand flies to my mouth. "I mean, yes." I chuckle too. "Yes, of course." I dare to look over, but when I do, Liam's nothing but smiles.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Ruthie cheers, running over to me and throwing her arms around my waist.
I squeeze her back as Liam stands. He pats Ruthie on the back, then bends down to kiss the top of her head. "You don't have to do this," Liam whispers.
Jo flies to mind—my phone going off, insurance calls, her birth date flashing like a warning sign. But then I glance down and see Ruthie still smiling against me, and I know right away that I'll figure everything out.
"Of course I'm sure."
He locks eyes with me, his head shifting back and forth in blissful disbelief, his expression dripping with intensity. "Thank you," he grinds out.
I offer Liam a smile, then run my hand through Ruthie's hair. "Anything for you two."
The hot water cascades down my back, steam fogging the glass around me. But that's not why I feel all warm inside.
Ruthie asked me to play with her in her soccer game. Of course, I'd love to have a chance to kick some mean-soccer-mom-ass, but more than that, I'm just happy that she felt comfortable asking. And that she wants me there in the first place.
When Liam and I started giving in to this pull between us, Ruthie was always my main concern—my job caring for her, how it could affect her, our relationship.
And yes, we share a connection and have a bond that grows stronger every day, but this…
this feels bigger. Deeper. Less surface-level and more life-changing.
At least, to me.
Now, just a few hours later, here I am—pumping soap from my vanilla cupcake body wash as I continue picturing Liam's reaction. His face was bright, but his eyes were dark, coated with passion I've seen from him before—with Ruthie, on the field… between my legs.
Holy shit.
It's the way he looks at things he…
"Tessa?"
My name bounces off the glass, affecting me instantly. My nipples peak, my skin buzzing beneath my fingertips, and my heartbeat suddenly hammers in my chest.
"Liam?" I ask, my voice breathy as I subconsciously continue washing myself. "What are you doing?"
"Can I come in?"
My pulse stutters. "Like, in the bathroom?"
His silence is blanketed by the flow of water that crashes onto the tile beneath my feet.
"Like… in there," he answers, his voice louder now, as if he's standing on the other side of the steam-coated glass.
As I reach for the door handle, my hand shakes slightly with either nerves or anticipation. When I push it open, a cool breeze floods the shower.
Then, I see him.
Right there, like I thought, merely inches away.
"Okay," I say softly, pushing the door open further with a confidence only he provides.
Liam inhales slowly as his eyes trail over my wet, naked body. "Beautiful," he says as they meet mine again.
"Wh—where's Ruthie?" I stutter as his fingers find the hem of his navy blue t-shirt.
He tugs the cotton up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. "I called Alex and asked her to take her for ice cream," he says, popping the button on his jeans and unzipping them slowly. He drags them to the floor, taking his briefs down with them, and unapologetically steps out of both.
"To… cheer her up?" I ask, not even attempting to hide the way his whole body distracts me—everything from the mounds at his shoulders to the curves of his thighs, painstakingly chiseled over years of hard work.
"Sure," he says, his pupils dilating. "Though I'm not sure she needs it, thanks to you."
I step back without even knowing why until I realize my body is making room for him. "Then why?"
The space I put between us isn't space at all, but an invitation, and Liam quickly accepts. "Because I couldn't wait," he says, stepping over the lip of the shower and pulling the door shut behind him.
I swallow hard. "For what?"
He presses his body against mine and cradles my face. "For this."