Page 29

SKYE

L ily’s low whimper hurt my heart as I cuddled her in my arms. I rocked her slowly, waiting for the Tylenol to kick in and ease the pain. She’d had ear infections before, but never that bad. I glanced up when the door to my bedroom eased open, and Aunt Eileen peeked her head in.

“How’s it going?” She kept her voice low so as not to disturb Lily, who needed to get some sleep. It was way past her bedtime.

“Could be better.” I grimaced as Lily’s sharp elbow jabbed me in the ribs.

That calculating gleam entered my aunt’s eyes, and I shuddered.

“What?” I instantly regretted asking.

“You should call Liam.”

“No.” My reaction was immediate and defensive. I was her mom. I’d never needed his help before.

Aunt Eileen slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind her. “You told me you’re trying to work things out, right?”

I reluctantly nodded, not liking where she was headed.

“He’s upset about missing out on Lily’s life. Well, this is a part of it. Let him share in her care.”

I narrowed my eyes, not liking her thinking. “I know what you’re doing.”

A sly smile curved her lips. “Having a child isn’t all roses, sweetheart. He needs to experience all of it, and what better way than to test out his long-term commitment?”

“Fine.” She had me there. I’d confided in her more than once that I feared Liam would infiltrate our lives and leave us with broken hearts and a very confused little girl when he entered the NFL. I waved my aunt away and quickly texted Liam about Lily, asking him to come by.

“I’ll keep Tommy busy when he gets home. I recorded the new episode for his favorite show. Plus, I made ribs.”

“Devious.”

He would be engrossed in the NFL sports documentaries my aunt was referencing. They were good. I’d binged Receivers as soon as it’d come out.

I regretted the text almost as soon as I sent it.

I didn’t need Liam’s help, not really. But when Lily whimpered in her sleep, clutching me tighter, something inside me cracked.

Maybe Aunt Eileen was right. If Liam was serious about being in Lily’s life, he needed to see all of it—the sleepless nights, the worry, the love that consumed everything.

I hated how much I wanted him to prove her right, how much I wanted to believe that he would stay.

When my phone chimed with Liam’s response that he would be over in fifteen minutes, I relayed it to my aunt, whose grin stretched impossibly wide. I stuck my tongue out, but she missed that lovely expression, as she had already exited my room.

In slow, even movements, I rocked Lily from side to side in my arms while sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Lily’s breathing evened out as she fell into a light sleep.

When my door opened, I didn’t need to look at the time to know no more than fifteen minutes had passed.

Liam quietly entered my and Lily’s room.

Liam froze just inside the doorway, his eyes locking onto Lily curled against me.

His shoulders, tense when he walked in, seemed to drop a little as he took her in.

His concerned gaze crawled over Lily then me, and my cheeks heated in response.

Why did he have to be so intense? My body should not react to him the way it did, especially after all our time apart after we broke up—if a two-month fling could even be considered a relationship.

I slowly exhaled and tried to control my pulse. That man took up way too much space in the room. “Hey.”

He closed the distance between us, sitting beside me on the bed. “How’s she doing?”

His voice was low and gravely, making my stomach clench. “The Tylenol kicked in, and she finally fell asleep. She’ll probably wake in four hours in pain, though.”

Lily’s eyelids fluttered, and she let out a small, pitiful groan.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, crouching beside her. His voice was quiet, as though he was afraid to disturb her. “Not feeling too great, huh?”

“My ear hurts,” she mumbled, barely lifting her head.

Something shifted in his expression—something I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t panic or discomfort. It was… focus.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re burning up,” he said, his voice steady, but his eyes flicked to me, sharp with concern.

“She’s been fighting it all day,” I said, my tone clipped. I didn’t mean to sound defensive, but the tension in my chest refused to loosen. “The Tylenol brought the fever down, though.”

He didn’t say anything, just grabbed the washcloth I’d left on the nightstand to dip it into the bowl of cool water.

His movements were careful, precise as he wrung it out and folded it neatly before pressing it against Lily’s forehead.

“There you go, Lil,” he murmured, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “This’ll help.”

I stayed rooted in place. Lily didn’t flinch, didn’t twist away like she usually did when someone who wasn’t me tried to help. Instead, she sighed, her tiny body relaxing slightly under his touch. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.

He stayed like that for a few minutes until Lily’s breathing evened out.

I untangled my legs and stood with Lily in my arms. Liam beat me to her bed and moved the covers out of the way so I could lay her down.

He covered her when I carefully extracted my arms. We both waited a few tense seconds before returning to my bed.

The room had no space for any other seating, not with both our beds, the dollhouse in the corner, or her overabundance of toys spilling out of the pink-and-purple chest. I scooted back to lean against the headboard, and Liam did the same.

Our shoulders pressed together, and it took everything in me not to move away.

It didn’t mean anything—he was only there for Lily, not me.

“I know you’re busy. I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” I said, though part of me was glad he had. Lily’s soft breathing filled the quiet, but the tension between us buzzed louder than any words. I threaded my fingers together on my lap to keep from fidgeting.

“I just want to be here with you both.” His deep voice rumbled.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, his profile caught in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking there like he was holding something back. But his eyes—dark and full of unspoken emotions—drew me in despite myself.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated, Liam,” I said quietly, though the words wavered, betraying me.

His head turned, his gaze locking on mine with an almost physical heat. “I don’t feel obligated, Skye. I want to be here. For her, yeah, but also for you.”

My chest tightened, my gaze dropping to my hands knotted in my lap. “Why? We’ve been fine. I’ve been fine.” Even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure I believed them.

He shifted beside me, and I felt the weight of his movements before I saw them, the mattress dipping as his knee brushed against mine. He didn’t pull away or apologize, and the contact sent a ripple of awareness up my spine.

“I know you have. You’re stronger than I’ll ever be,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But just because you can do this alone doesn’t mean you should have to.”

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit, and my throat tightened. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

The bitterness in my voice came unbidden, sharp, and raw, but Liam didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned closer, his arm brushing mine. The warmth of his skin seeped through my thin sweatshirt, and suddenly, it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room.

“I know I screwed up,” he said softly, each word deliberate and weighted. “I should have been there from the start. If I’d known?—”

“You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you,” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “And I had my reasons, okay? It wasn’t just about protecting her. It was about protecting me too.”

The silence between us crackled with tension, and I could feel his eyes on me, searching.

I didn’t pull away when he reached for my hand, though I told myself I should.

His fingers slid over mine, warm and calloused, and I hated how much I liked the weight of his hand.

Letting him in meant risking everything.

But as his thumb brushed over my knuckles, I felt the tiniest flicker of hope. It scared me more than anything.

“I get that,” he said. “I don’t blame you for doing what you thought was best. But I’m here now, Skye. And I’m not going anywhere—even if you try to push me away.”

My pulse pounded in my ears, and I stared at our hands, the simple contact unraveling something inside me. “It’s not that easy,” I whispered, but I could hear the hesitation in my voice.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone gentle. “But we can figure it out. Together. You don’t have to trust me all at once. Just let me prove it to you. For Lily. For you.”

His words tugged at a part of me I’d buried long ago, a part that still ached when I looked at him too long. Slowly, I turned to meet his gaze again. His face was so close, his expression open and unguarded.

“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to know right now.” Liam’s free hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His fingertips skimmed my temple, lingering just long enough to make my breath hitch. “But let me try.”

The room felt impossibly small, the tension between us sharp and electric. My eyes searched his for something I wasn’t sure I could name. And there, in the silence, I found sincerity, hope, and maybe even the man I’d once thought he could be.

His shoulder pressed into mine, solid and warm, and I hated how much I noticed it. I wanted to lean into him, even as my mind screamed to keep my distance. But the quiet conviction in his voice chipped away at my defenses.

“Okay,” I murmured, the word escaping before I could second-guess it.

His lips curved into a slow, cautious smile, and his thumb brushed over my knuckles again, a silent promise in the touch. “Okay,” he echoed.

I wanted to believe him, to trust that he would stay, but the fear was still there, curling tight in my chest. Even as his hand lingered over mine, warm and steady, the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen.

I wanted to believe him, to trust that he would stay.

Yet the memories of his absence and my loneliness whispered their warnings.

Still, as I glanced at him, his expression open and unguarded, something inside me softened.

Liam’s smile did something to my chest I didn’t want to name.

Maybe, just maybe, we could figure this out. Together.