Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

20. Liam

Chapter 20

Liam

H ot pink, orange, and gold hues washed over the sky as the sun sank below the horizon. Chilly with a breeze off the water, Brooke wrapped her jacket tight and smiled softly at the ferry crossing Elliott Bay. The hum of its engine echoed over the Sound, a pleasant melody for our rooftop picnic.

“My mom used to take me over to Bainbridge Island for ice cream in the summer,” she said. “We went to a shop right off the dock because it sold french fries, too. My dad apparently dipped his fries in the ice cream.” She faced me and grinned. “What a weirdo, huh?”

Her gaze dropped to her hands as she wrung them in her lap. “We fought off the viscous seagulls while we ate, and she told me stories about him. I don’t remember much, and sometimes I think my brain is filling in blanks with false memories.”

The soft cadence of her words carried a vulnerability she only recently allowed me to witness. I watched her intently, the way she fidgeted, and her brows furrowed with sincerity. I noted the slight tremor in her voice and her courage in speaking anyway.

It only served to deepen my admiration.

“You did it for him. Your project.” It wasn’t a question. I already knew the answer, and I’d been thinking of it since she brought her robot home last week.

Studious and bright, Brooke could have taken any number of career paths. I never thought to ask why she chose robotic engineering.

She sniffled and nodded. “If I win this funding, we can manufacture these devices for mass use in catastrophic conditions, supply emergency response teams, and save lives. ”

Her eyes sparkled with a shine I adored. The one that lit up her entire face, like all the passion and love and fire inside couldn’t be held back. Brooke claimed she wasn’t yet a confident and capable woman, but she only fooled herself because she could do anything.

“Technology designed for convenience is important and has a role in our lives. I love that my coffee brews before I’m up and that my floor is vacuumed without me lifting a finger. But I would love it more if my dad had been at the table when I returned home from school growing up.”

The wind kicked up, blowing her hair into her eyes. My fingers were there a moment later, brushing the tangled strands away. “You’ll get the funding. Tell them your story.”

“Everyone has a story.” She shrugged and reached into her pocket to pull out a band and fixed her hair back. “I’m not the only one with an innovative and life-saving project. Even Paul, the asshole that he is, built a model that can assist surgeons in complicated and dangerous procedures.” She bumped her shoulder with mine. “My mom won’t say it, but I think she’s rooting for him.”

“Tell them. You can take up space. You should take up space.”

I studied her profile, the slender curve of her jaw, and the long slope of her nose, but she stared at the now-dark sky over the water—an obsidian expanse dancing with the reflection of lights in the distance. If she could, I think she would hide out there.

“I understand,” I said quietly, shifting an inch closer. The nylon of our jackets swished as our arms pressed together. “You felt like the girl who existed in plain sight, yet no one saw you. You grew up believing that, but you were wrong.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Says the popular jock with no shortage of attention.”

I grew up believing Brooke was too good to have anything to do with me, friendship or otherwise. She acted as if I was dogshit on the bottom of her shoe, and for a long time, I thought she was right. But pretension and superiority didn’t drive her attitude. Insecurity did.

“You think I never noticed you, but I noticed everything, Brooke. I noticed the way you bite your lip when you’re excited about something, afraid you can’t keep it to yourself. Just like I noticed you didn’t share it with me. I noticed the way you stood against the wall. Just like I noticed the curve of your lips each time I invited you to join, and you said no. I noticed you. I’ve never not noticed you.”

She released an unsteady breath. “I assumed you saw me as unremarkable and undeserving. I was a jerk to you, oftentimes as an offense, not a defense.” Her hand landed on my thigh. “I’m sorry for it.”

I rested my hand on hers and squeezed. “I launched just as many attacks, fellow jerk over here. I’m sorry, Brooke.” Her head fell to my shoulder, and I caught the scent of her shampoo—plumeria. I may have uncapped the bottle and sniffed it a few times, or a dozen or whatever.

For as sweet as the smell of her hair, nothing beat the comfort of her proximity.

The flat rooftop of the building wasn’t intended to be a deck or outdoor leisure space. Moss sprouted in the cracks of the concrete, and bird shit was splattered about, but seated on a blanket and with the cityscape glowing around us, it was the perfect evening.

“I’m glad we’re rewriting our story.” I leaned closer, not missing the hitch in her breath.

Maybe her mind drifted to last night the way mine did. I’d thought of little else all day. But as much as I wanted to replay the bedtime story, hearing about her day was pretty entertaining, too.

What a plot twist.

“So, tell me about the next steps once you land this funding. Are you the boss? You would be a masterful leader.”

It was nearly midnight, and snuggled close on the blanket, Brooke’s sleep-addled voice reminded me that tomorrow was an important day for her. She should go to bed, but every time I suggested we pack up and head inside, she insisted on just five more minutes.

“Wait, one more question,” she said, squeezing my arm. We lay side by side, flat on our backs, and stared at the night sky. “I’ve been dying to know and too embarrassed to ask, but we’re beyond that, I think.”

With a sigh, I agreed. “I mean, I did hear you climax, so.”

She covered her face with her hands and squealed.

“Yeah. It sounded a bit like that.” I laughed, but was too slow to dodge her shoulder punch. There was no heat behind it, probably because all the heat had traveled to her cheeks.

“I don’t sound like that when I come,” she muttered, though she was mistaken. “Did you spin me on purpose? At our fifteenth birthday party?”

Like an idiot, I’d assumed she would go in the closet and all would be forgiven between us. We would have kissed, and she would have fallen in love with me.

“Yes. Would knowing I wanted to kiss you with no ulterior motives other than my desire have changed anything?”

She sighed, pressing closer. “Probably not. It terrified me to think of kissing you. I’d never kissed anyone, and you’d kissed a lot of someones.”

I hummed. “And what about knowing I still want to kiss you?”

“I’m not begging.” Her breathy laugh brushed against my neck. She sat up and stretched, glancing down at me. Maybe she really had meant five minutes this time.

I sat up, too. “Well, yeah. What a terrible bluff when I was always a sure bet, huh?” My finger grazed over the back of her knuckles in a languid sweep.

She nodded, watching my movements. “Pride is an interesting thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s an obstacle, if you ask me. Just something to trip over instead of kissing it out of the way—sorry, kicking it out of the way. Pardon me.”

Brooke’s entire body shook with laughter. Under her breath, she murmured something about me being incorrigible—and she was right—I was.

She rubbed my thigh, frowning down at my jeans. “You have a tattoo. Is it a flower? I couldn’t see the full piece.”

“It’s a lotus flower. I got it after my mom died. It’s my only one.” I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat. “And you, Brooke? What surprises are you hiding?”

“Why a lotus flower?” she asked, not falling for the redirection. I should have known better.

I got the tattoo on my thigh because I could keep it private, yet see it and be reminded of its significance. That didn’t mean I enjoyed talking about it, and I rarely did. But with Brooke, the words didn’t feel quite so stuck.

“I got it in honor of my mom. Lotus flowers symbolize resilience, strength, and beauty emerging from adversity. She was a single mom who worked hard and loved her kids fiercely. Her life wasn’t always easy, but she thrived even in the challenges that came her way.”

With a deep breath, I dropped my head back to gaze at the ink-black sky. A peppering of stars was visible beneath the cloud cover and haze of city lights.

“I’ve struggled off and on with depression since college. Maybe before, to be honest, but when my life fell out from under me, I had nothing to distract me from it. I got injured, lost my scholarship, fucked up my rehab out of anger and spite, dealt with my mom…” I puffed an exhale. “Things were hard. I wanted to feel connected to my mom and her resiliency, even when I don’t have my own.”

“Oh, Liam.” Her voice was hardly a whisper. She turned her body to me, tucking her legs beneath her and cupping my face. “I had no idea.”

I hadn’t wanted her to know—or anyone, for that matter. Living on the other side of the country helped. When shit got bad, I had my best friend.

Clearing my throat, I pulled out of her hands. She rested them on my shoulders, but her focus remained unwavering.

“It’s why I didn’t come back and visit. Visits home were a reminder that things weren’t like they were supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to be a fuck up. My mom wasn’t supposed to be dead. Shana is so busy that avoiding her was easy. After the funeral, I didn’t think I’d ever come back again.”

She slid her palms to cup the sides of my neck, her eyes locked on me. “Why did you?”

“I was lonely.” I shrugged.

A choked gasp caught in her throat. “Oh, Liam.” Her nails dug into my skin, and I don’t think she realized the grip she had on me. “Liam.” Like a chant of disbelief, she repeated my name several times. It embarrassed me.

I dropped my eyes and gently peeled her fingers from my neck. “When Brenden got traded to Seattle, he suggested I come back. I have to figure out something long term. Finishing a degree seemed a reasonable start.”

Brooke sniffled and nodded enthusiastically as tears rolled down her cheek. She wiped them away and smiled. “It is, Liam. You might feel like you’re stumbling, but you’re up and moving. Failing is doing nothing at all. Success is doing the hard shit. Returning to Seattle and starting over is tough, but the fact you’re putting in effort is a win. Thriving is about more than an outcome.”

She was right logically, but my head and my heart weren’t always in sync.

My eyes burned with the sting of tears, and I blinked them back. “I got injured, dropped out of college, and my life fell apart. That’s what my mom saw—she saw me at my worst. She saw my life falling apart, and she’ll never see me put it back together.” The soreness in my throat made it difficult to finish the thought, but I rushed through it. “For a long time, I figured there was no point in even trying.”

“No. No, Liam. There is a point. It’s right there.” She gestured to my thigh; her eyes wide. “You got that tattoo as a reminder of your mom, but that’s you . Resilient, strong, and beautiful. You’re so much like her. You always have been—fierce and brave. You can handle the challenges. You’re doing it.”

I focused on the way her eyes crinkled in the corners, the pinch of determination like she believed what she said.

“You think that’s me, huh?” I tugged on the tip of her ponytail.

She smiled warmly. “I do.”

In a single heartbeat, it happened, blazing through me like the brightest light, even in the surrounding darkness. This wasn’t a passing infatuation, a fleeting attraction, or an unrequited childhood crush.

It was the moment I knew with irrefutable certainty that I was falling in love with her. I couldn’t imagine anything more exhilarating or terrifying.

Except maybe allowing myself to believe that she might feel the same.