Page 42 of Cruel When He Smiles

The truth is, I don’t know. I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head, jaw clenched tight. “Sage’s been weird lately,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “He doesn’t talk much anymore. Not even to me.”

Liam doesn’t blink. “That bothering you?”

“I don’t know,” I lie, even though it’s tearing me open just to say it out loud. “Probably. He’s my best friend.”

Liam hums, barely audible. “You feel abandoned.”

I snap my head up, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring out across the field, like he’s thinking about something too far away to reach.

“Don’t do that shrink shit on me,” I mutter.

“I’m not.” His gaze flicks back to me. “I’m just telling you what I see. You’re angry, but it’s not at Sage. It’s at being forgotten.”

The words land too cleanly, and I shift my weight, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not forgotten.”

“No,” Liam agrees. “You’re just not the one being chased anymore.”

It hits a nerve, and my heart fucking shatters, but I don’t let it show. “You really think you know everything, don’t you?”

“No,” he says, and this time there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “But I’m starting to learn how to read you.”

I turn away before he sees the heat rising to my face. Before he sees how badly I want to believe him.

Liam steps closer again, his voice brushing the back of my neck with that gentle command I’ve come to dread and crave in equal measure. “You’re not alone, Nate.” I close my eyes. “Not unless you want to be.”

I stay quiet and let the silence settle. Let the weight of it press against the tension in my shoulders.

He doesn’t push again or say anything else as he waits. And somehow, that’s worse because it means the choice is mine now to say something or to push him away, or to let the wall fall another inch.

I don’t know which part of me I’m supposed to trust anymore. So, I just keep staring ahead, heart hammering like I’ve run a mile more than I should’ve, and whisper, “Thanks.”

He doesn’t answer, but I already feel him turning to go, the silence he leaves in his wake heavier than his words.

I stand there a little longer, eyes burning, breathing shallow, and wonder when I stopped recognizing my own reflection. When I stopped knowing which parts were mine and which were just shadows of someone else’s damage.

I don’t have the answer.

But I know when Liam said I wasn’t alone… a part of me almost believed him.

Nate

BeforeIcantalkmyself out of it, I walk off the pitch and through the gate. The sun’s dipped behind the trees, and the path toward the parking lot is dim in the fading light. I spot him near the far end, just as he’s unlocking his car door.

“Liam,” I call out, my voice too loud in the stillness. He pauses with his hand still on the door handle, his back straightening before he turns around.

I stop a few feet from him, chest heaving from the run, breath teetering between panic and confusion, and caught between everything I want to say and everything I’ve buried for too long.

His eyes find mine, steady and unreadable in the low light. “You okay?”

“No,” I breathe, and it sounds broken. “No, I’m not okay.”

He doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks like he was expecting that answer. “Then why’d you let me walk away?” he asks.

“Because I don’t know what the fuck you want from me,” I snap, my frustration catching fire. “You suddenly fucking care, and I don’t get why. You spent weeks needling me until I snapped. You made me out to be unhinged just to get those sessions. You act like none of this gets to you, and then—then you do shit like the other night. Or just now. You show up when no one else does and say things that—” My voice cracks before I can stop it. “Just tell mewhy.”

He studies me for a few seconds, the key still resting between his fingers. His gaze drops to my fists clenched at my sides, then back up to my face. I know I’m not hiding anything well. My expression’s probably fucked, eyes red, jaw too tight to pretend anymore.

“I saw something in you the other night,” he says finally, tone flat. “Something I buried in myself a long time ago.”