Page 32

SKYE

T he scent of garlic bread and simmering marinara greeted me as I stepped into Fiona’s townhouse, Lily balanced on my hip.

Her tiny hands clutched her favorite stuffed bunny, the one she refused to go anywhere without.

Liam was right behind us, the booster seat we’d brought dangling from one hand.

His other grazed my lower back in a way that sent a mix of comfort and nerves through me.

“It smells amazing,” I said, my voice overly bright as Fiona appeared in the kitchen doorway.

She grinned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Thanks. Spaghetti is kind of my go-to, but I promise it’s edible.”

Lily squirmed in my arms, and Fiona’s gaze softened as she crouched slightly to Lily’s level. “Hey, sweetheart. You like spaghetti?”

Lily nodded shyly, her face half buried in Bunny’s worn ears.

“She’s a picky eater,” I said apologetically. “But she usually goes for pasta.”

“Well, good thing I made enough to feed an army.” Fiona’s voice dropped, her grin becoming conspiratorial. “There’s also dessert, but that’s top secret until we’ve all earned it.”

Lily’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of dessert, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Fiona straightened, her gaze flicking between Liam and me. “I know Dad wasn’t supposed to be here—I’m sorry.” She winced, glancing at Lily too. “He’s at the table, and he’s… well, you’ll see.”

“It’s fine.” I tried to smooth things over, settling my hand on Liam’s arm in reassurance.

He studied me for a moment, no doubt judging my sincerity before he muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse before brushing past me. “Let’s just get this over with.”

I followed him into the cozy dining room, my nerves buzzing like a live wire.

The table was already set, the centerpiece a simple vase of wildflowers that looked like they’d been hastily thrown together.

It was charming in a way that fit Fiona perfectly.

Liam’s dad sat at the head of the table, a drink in his hand and a critical eye on us as we entered. His presence was heavy and oppressive.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he said to Liam, his tone dripping with something I couldn’t quite place— disappointment? Contempt?

“Good to see you too, Dad.” Liam’s voice was tight. He pulled out a chair and placed the booster seat for Lily without even looking at his father, the gesture seeming instinctive.

I eased Lily into the booster seat and took the chair next to her that Liam pulled out for me. Her little legs swung as she clutched Bunny tighter.

Fiona appeared with a serving bowl heaped with spaghetti, her cheery energy doing its best to offset the tension. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” Her smile appeared forced as she set the bowl down with a clatter.

The meal started quietly, the clinking of forks and occasional compliments for Fiona the only sounds. I tried to focus on Lily, cutting her spaghetti into manageable bites and encouraging her to eat.

“Cute kid,” Liam’s dad said suddenly, his gaze sharp as it landed on Lily then Liam. “You said she’s yours, right?”

“Enough, Dad.” Liam’s stony gaze locked on his dad in challenge. “You’re being rude.”

The question wasn’t directed at me, but we still hadn’t told Lily that Liam was her father. I forced down the panic and plastered on a smile I didn’t feel, determined to take point. I kept my voice even. “She’s my daughter.”

As Liam’s hand brushed mine under the table, a warmth spread through me, unexpected but welcome.

I found myself wanting to rely on him. Especially seeing how he handled his father, the way he stayed calm even when it was clear he wanted to explode—it made me feel as if he really could be the kind of person Lily and I needed.

His father grunted, taking another swig of his drink, the ice clinking loudly in the glass. “Doesn’t look much like you.”

Before I could respond, Fiona jumped in, her tone breezy but with an edge that left no room for argument. “That’s because Lily’s adorable. Clearly got all her good looks from her mom.”

Liam snorted, and I shot Fiona a grateful glance.

“You must be quite the multitasker, huh?” Liam’s dad mused, a hard look in his eye.

“Enough.” Liam snapped, low and controlled, his gaze locked on his dad until the uncomfortable weight of silence hung over the table.

The conversation shifted after that, with Fiona doing her best to steer it toward neutral topics. I could feel Liam’s tension radiating off him, his posture stiff and his jaw tight as he engaged only when absolutely necessary.

Liam’s father leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes fixed on me like he was assessing a weak opponent. “So, Skye,” he said, the words laced with condescension, “what exactly is it you do?”

I stiffened, my grip tightening around my fork. “I go to Fall Lake University, and I’m the social media manager for the football team.” I worked hard to keep my voice steady.

“Social media, huh?” His tone made it sound like I’d said I sold knockoff watches on a street corner.

Liam’s jaw ticked, his gaze darting between me and his father. Under the table, I felt the warm brush of his hand against mine. Before I could react, his fingers closed over mine in a firm squeeze—not too much, just enough to say, I’ve got you.

My shoulders relaxed slightly, and I glanced at him. His expression didn’t waver, but the corner of his mouth twitched, just enough to let me know he wasn’t about to let his father’s attitude go unchecked.

“Social media is a huge part of modern sports,” Liam said evenly, his voice carrying just enough edge. “It keeps fans connected, grows the brand. It’s one of the reasons our team gets so much national attention. You’d know that if you kept up with anything at all.”

His father’s nostrils flared, but before he could respond, Fiona jumped in with a story about Liam’s childhood antics, deftly steering the conversation in another direction.

Liam’s hand slipped away, but the warmth lingered. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Skye,” Fiona said after a while, her voice cutting through the lingering unease. “You’re doing an amazing job with Lily. I don’t know how you manage classes and everything else.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the genuine warmth in her tone. “I have help,” I admitted, glancing at Liam. “More now than I used to.”

Liam’s lips quirked into a small smile, and Fiona nodded approvingly.

“Well, if you ever need more help, you let me know.” She grinned. “I mean it. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Her words shouldn’t have made my throat tighten, but they did. I managed a quiet “Thank you,” my fingers tightening around my fork.

By the time dessert—homemade brownies—was served, Lily was yawning, her head resting against my arm.

I excused myself to get her settled on the couch in the living room with a movie, thanks to Fiona.

When I returned, Liam was alone in the kitchen, rinsing plates while Fiona kept Lily entertained.

Their dad sat at the table as he nursed what I suspected was another mixed drink.

“You okay?” Liam asked, his voice low as he stepped closer. His concern was genuine, and for a moment, I saw the Liam I’d fallen for back in freshman year—not the football star or the man still figuring himself out, but someone who cared deeply.

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach hadn’t entirely loosened.

The glimpse at his family life—thanks to his dad’s demeanor—told me more than I thought I would learn just from sharing a meal with them.

I caught a flicker of something in Liam’s eyes—determination, maybe, or regret.

It was hard to tell. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Even with the uncomfortableness of his dad’s presence, the weight of Liam’s and Fiona’s support throughout dinner settled over me, something I could get used to.

Liam

A s I stood in the kitchen, stacking plates with Skye, I could hear Fiona in the living room, her animated voice likely coaxing Lily into coloring or playing with one of the toys we’d brought over as the movie played in the background.

I couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Lily’s soft giggles.

At least someone was enjoying themselves.

Skye excused herself to check on Lily, and I took the opportunity to speak to the problem in the room—or my life, really.

Still at the dining table, Dad slouched in his chair. As I approached, I caught the faintest whiff of Jack Daniels.

“Will there ever be a time you don’t drink?” I accused.

He smirked, swirling the liquid in his glass like he was proud of it. “What do you care? Not like I’m driving anywhere.”

I bit back the urge to snap at him. It wasn’t the time. Skye had already been on edge all night, and I wasn’t about to make things worse with a shouting match.

Speaking of Skye, she appeared in the doorway just then, holding Lily’s bunny in one hand. “I think we’re going to head out,” she said, her voice tight.

“You don’t have to leave yet.” I took a step toward her. “Fiona’s with Lily?—”

“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted, offering a strained smile. “She’s getting sleepy anyway. Thanks for dinner.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her to stay, but the look in her eyes stopped me. She was done for the night, and I couldn’t blame her. Being around my father was a mistake, I should never have agreed when Fiona put on the pressure about dinner. We should have done something elsewhere, without Dad.

“I’ll walk you out.” I grabbed her coat from the back of a chair.

We didn’t say much as I helped her get Lily bundled up, the quiet between us heavy with unspoken tension. Once they were in the car and pulling away, I headed back inside, my jaw tight as I closed the door behind me.

Dad was still at the table, his glass now empty but his smirk firmly in place. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full”—his voice dripped with mockery—“playing house with a kid that isn’t even yours. That’s bold, Liam. Real bold.”

“Watch it,” I warned, my voice low.

“What?” He leaned back in his chair with that same smug look he always had when trying to provoke me. “I’m just saying it like it is. You can play house all you want, but it won’t last. Love never does. You of all people should know that by now.”

I felt like I’d been sucker punched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, reaching for the bottle of Jack Daniels I hadn’t noticed sitting on the buffet along the wall, behind a vase, and near his chair.

“Look at your mother. Things were great between us until you and Fiona came along. Then it all went to hell. Kids complicate things, Liam. They ruin everything.”

I stared at him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I should’ve been angry—furious—but instead, all I felt was a deep, aching sadness.

“That’s not what’s gonna happen to me.” Despite my best efforts to steady it, my voice trembled.

He barked a bitter laugh. “Oh, isn’t it? You’re a damned fool if you think otherwise. And you’re a bigger fool for thinking you can do any better.”

For a long moment, I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, staring at the man who had spent years making sure I knew how little he believed in me in everything except maybe football—and for that I suspected it was only because he saw me as a meal ticket.

As Dad spewed his usual bitterness, I felt the familiar sting of his words, the doubt he’d planted in me years ago.

It was possible I wasn’t cut out for this—being a father, building a family.

But then I thought of Lily, her tiny hand clutching her bunny, and Skye, standing tall even when she was clearly overwhelmed.

They deserved better. I could be the one to give it to them.

The memory of Fiona’s voice floating in from the living room, soft and gentle as she talked to Lily, sifted through my mind. I thought of Skye, her hands trembling as she tucked Bunny into Lily’s bag. And Lily herself, looking up at me with those big, trusting eyes.

“You’re wrong.” I squared my shoulders, my voice firm. “Love isn’t the problem. You were.” I turned and walked away before he could respond, heading to the living room where Fiona sat on the couch.

Fiona looked up at me, her brow furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lied, sitting down beside her. “I’m fine.”

“You’re nothing like him, you know,” Fiona murmured, her hand resting on my arm. “You’ve already proved that.”

Her words settled something deep inside me, the knot of tension loosening just a little. “Thanks, Fio,” I said, my voice rough. “I just hope I don’t screw this up.”

I didn’t just want to prove my father wrong—I needed to.