Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

25. Liam

Chapter 25

Liam

“ I ’m going to need everyone out,” Brooke said, blinking open her eyes. They’d been squeezed shut for a solid thirty seconds as she took a few deep breaths. “Please.”

She looked… pissed. That frown, the way she pinched her lips tight, the dip of her brows, and the sharp V indented between them…

I inched toward my room, wanting to seek shelter. Or maybe drag her in there with me. To kiss all over her body and apologize for the destruction that followed me everywhere. Nope, correction: that I brought everywhere.

“Not you.” Brooke grabbed me by the elbow. “You stay.”

I stared at the hand gripping my arm, her fingers digging hard into the flesh. The sting of her nails was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.

I am a fuck up .

“Brooke,” Sam said, moving closer but not touching her—or me.

For a minute, I thought he might hit me. I probably would have if roles were reversed, but that’s because losing Brooke was something he should regret. He was a fucking fool for dumping her.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said quietly. “Thank you for the flowers and the gift. It’s lovely, but I need a word with Liam.”

“Liam? Like, Shana’s brother?” His sad eyes flickered to me, a sheen of tears reflecting in his glasses. His shoulders stooped, and for a moment, I felt sorry for him. “She talked about you enough. I guess that figures.” With a long exhale and a shake of his head, he headed toward the door.

“Sam, I’m sorry, but—” Brooke started, her voice wobbling, but he blew out without another glance back.

She stared at the door, her chest heaving with each stuttered breath. For a moment, I felt sorry for her. Whatever she wanted to say, he wasn’t going to give her the chance to finish.

“The signature?—”

Brooke snatched the clipboard from the poor guy tasked with delivering candy at the worst time. I would have tipped him, but my wallet was in the back pocket of the jeans on my bedroom floor—not in my towel.

She handed him the sign slip and took the candy. “Just a second, please.”

The guy stood awkwardly as Brooke rummaged through her purse on the hook by the door. For a moment, I felt sorry for him.

I felt fucking sorry for everyone except me , the catalyst inciting this mess.

I dropped my head, hating myself for not admitting my mistake sooner. I should have told her what happened. I ruined this already, and we’d hardly started. The first girl I fell for became the first woman I fell in love with. I’d never had this… this fucking feeling before.

I fucked it up.

She shoved a twenty at the guy, who looked a lot more pleased about this delivery. He skipped out the door, wishing us a good day.

“It’s not what you think,” I repeated as soon as the door snicked closed with Brooke’s ex and a candy man on the other side. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I puffed an uncomfortable breath, unsure if I was firing a call to war. “But I’m also not sorry.”

She clutched the bag of candy with a bewildered look.

I winced, ruffling my hair. “Okay, what I mean is that… like, that guy’s a fool for even entertaining the thought of you being someone to settle for.” I crossed my arms, shrugging. “Quite honestly, it’s insulting how stupid he is.”

Brooke dropped her head back and laughed. Her shoulders shook until tears spilled down her cheeks. She cackled and snorted. She lost her breath, then inhaled deeply, only to break again.

She’d gone insane, and I drove her there. Not a complete surprise.

“It’s… not…. What. Li—Liam.” She shook harder, her face red. “Do you know how ludicrous this entire situation is?” Her hands pressed to her temples, and she sighed. “Oh my god.”

I grimaced. “Like, ‘Oh my god, get the fuck out of my sight’ or…”

She clasped her hands to her chest, appearing… amused. What the… fuck?

“No, not get the fuck out of my sight.” Gently, she asked, “Did you tell Sam he should dump me?”

I scratched the stubble along my neck. “Not exactly, and not in those words. More like me ranting because I was angry and lonely. I’ve never had a relationship longer than six weeks! What the fuck do I know? And why would anyone listen to me, let alone my drunk words?—”

Brooke surprised the hell out of me, closing the space between us and cupping my face. “Thank you.”

I blinked. “Thank… me?”

She nodded. Her gaze locked on mine, reflecting warmth instead of cool indifference or heated anger like I expected.

“Yes, thank you. Sam wouldn’t have registered your drunken Dear Abby unsolicited advice if there was no truth to it.” She released a slow exhale, dropping her hands to my shoulders. “And I would have let myself settle, believing it was the best I could hope for.”

“But I didn’t admit that I met him at the bar when I realized my mistake. I listened to you cry, knowing I caused it. Even if it was for the greater good, I was shitty?—”

Her mouth shut me up with a kiss—or tried to, anyway. I mumbled against her lips for a moment until I relaxed into her affection.

Her gracious understanding caught me off guard. I expected a rough-and-tumble fight and was prepared to accept the blame for my stupid blustering, but Brooke… continued to surprise me in the best and most unexpected ways.

“Don’t do that,” she murmured, her forehead pressed to mine. “Don’t try to come up with reasons you weren’t good enough. Next time something comes up that I should know, you’ll tell me, right?”

No anger. She wasn’t pissed off and didn’t freak out or hate me. She was kind to Sam, and she tipped that fucking delivery guy twenty dollars. She didn’t yell at me or make me feel like a piece of shit for not owning up to my mistake when I realized it and waiting until she happened to learn about it.

“Right.” I nodded, sliding my hands along the arc of her back.

Brooke was a good person—phenomenal. God, she was still too good for me because she didn’t freak out or hate me. Relief hit me like a bat to the face. I didn’t deserve a woman like Brooke, but I wasn’t about to be a guy like Sam.

“And now?” I asked softly.

She bit her lip and smiled. “Well, I’ve since realized I’m a queen. I guess that means I need a king.”

Leaning in, she pressed a tender, sweet, and affectionate kiss to my lips. My heart stuttered for a beat, a cloud of doubt blowing through an otherwise clear sky. I ignored it.

Brooke was right. She needed a king.

“You choose.” The seductive curl of her smile had me immediately hard. Standing at my back, she added, “But you have to pick a pair.”

“You know me too well,” I muttered, rummaging through her panty drawer. I would have left her bare and accessible during the party. Fucking in a graffiti-riddled bathroom on my birthday didn’t seem so terrible, but Brooke was classy. The scent of urinal cakes wasn’t an aphrodisiac, I guess.

Unfortunately, we were bound by a schedule that my sister had determined. Deviating from Shana’s plans would be nothing short of foolish. The woman had a temper, and I didn’t fancy being on the receiving end of her fury. The grudges she could hold and punishments she doled out…

There was no time for pre-party shenanigans, but Brooke allowed me to choose her outfit this evening as an early present. The weather had returned to its usual cold gloom, but she didn’t protest when I selected a cocktail dress that had her tits popping out of the bodice.

Investigating her underwear inventory, I pushed aside the Fruit of the Loom and went straight for the lacy thong. I let it dangle from the tip of my finger.

She sighed and took it. “Something up my ass all night, huh?”

“You don’t seem to mind?—”

“Yeah, all right. I set myself up for that one.” She laughed, shimmying into the scrap of fabric.

Brooke loved a finger in her ass when fucking. My naughty little minx was full of surprises, including her interest in learning what turned her on. She wasn’t shy—she just hadn’t considered anything outside of what she expected. And honestly? She didn’t expect much.

Weeks ago, that wouldn’t have lined up with the Brooke I thought I knew. The woman I assumed to be haughty, imperious, and superior. But that was not her—at all. She was sensitive and tenderhearted.

She patted my ass. “I bet you wouldn’t mind, either.”

Still ruthless, though. I hadn’t been wrong about that.

But she was playful and fun—a goddamn delight. It ate at my heart that I ever made her feel like she needed a fortified wall to protect against her insecurities, because watching Brooke shine warmed me with the strength of a million suns.

“You and your obsession with my globes.” I slammed the drawer, feigning indignation. The movement jostled the trinkets on top of the dresser. A picture frame tipped off the side, clattering to the floor.

I muttered a few curses when I noticed the crack in the glass. “Shit, I’m sorry, Brooke. I’ll replace this, obviously.”

“It’s fine.” She waved me off, reaching for the picture, but I held onto it, my gut sinking.

The image wasn’t quite the same, but close enough to recognize the sketch behind the broken glass. “You drew this. Oh fuck, Brooke. It’s Zaza.”

“It is,” she said proudly. “My initial idea. Not too far off, huh?”

I admired the messy sketch. Of course, of all the things I broke, it’d be something sentimental. “Not far off at all. You wanted track wheels?”

Brooke nodded, glancing at the picture as she stood beside me. “Yep. I’m glad I changed it. She’s so much more agile now. Versatile.” Taking the frame, she put it down. “It’s fine, Liam. I promise.”

She’d spent a childhood yelling at me for all kinds of stupid shit. Some I deserved, a lot I didn’t. I’d done plenty today alone to warrant earned disdain, and yet she spoke softly and kindly to me. What a trip.

“I’ll get you a new one. Where’d you get the frame?” The wood cracked on the side, splitting all the way to the top. The entire thing needed to be replaced.

She shrugged, dusting off her hands. “No idea. Sam gave it to me as a gift.” She turned away, but not before I caught the light blush on her cheeks. “It’s why he stopped by. He wanted to give it to me as a birthday present. I hadn’t realized he saved the sketch.”

I puffed a breath. “That was thoughtful of him.” Christ, it was. I rubbed the back of my neck, smiling quickly when she faced me.

“Well, I’m not as concerned about his thoughts as I am yours.” She kissed my cheek and wiped the lipstick with her thumb. “And the only present I want tonight is from you.” With a wink, she brushed past me. “Let’s go! The sooner we get to the party, the sooner we can come home and exchange gifts.”

My chest tightened, and my throat burned.

Brooke paused at the door and grinned. “We can also exchange fluids.” She was gone before I could answer, her laughter floating down the hall as she left me alone. I glanced at the broken picture.

“Hey, give me a second,” I called, hurrying to my room next door.

My clammy hands grabbed the box from the desk. I stared at the silver wrapping paper, the glitter sparkling in the bedroom light. A shoddy wrap job, and I had to use painter’s tape because I couldn’t find scotch tape in the condo, and duct tape seemed too aggressive—or suggestive.

“Everything okay?” Brooke’s voice floated from the hallway, and I shoved the brick-sized gift under the bed, kicking it out of the way just before she appeared at the door.

“Hmm? Yeah, I just, uh. I need to grab—” I glanced around. “These.” I snatched the condoms from the nightstand and held them up. Fucking idiot .

Brooke rolled her eyes. “No sex in a shared space with urinal cakes.”

Shana threw one hell of a party.

My sister was happy, laughing, dancing, drinking, and having a ball. Surrounded by friends and swaying joyfully to the club music, she looked like our mom. They’d shared their love of dance and an affinity for socializing. I snapped a quick picture, then returned to my brooding.

Brooke popped over minutes ago to warn me to say my goodbyes as midnight neared. We’d agreed to exchange gifts at the condo, straddling the line between my birthday and hers. The only problem was, I got her a shit gift.

“Ready?” Brooke looped her elbow in mine after we said goodbye to everyone. I recognized Sergio and Erin from the other night, but the others were strangers. I’d been in a foul mood, pinching my leg for hours to avoid telling people to fuck off. My goodbyes were brief.

Brenden left thirty minutes ago after patting my shoulder and brainstorming gift ideas, but his suggestion of sticking with what I had was shit. Brooke didn’t deserve to settle for a second-rate present—for a second-rate anything.

We slipped out into the chilly evening air, holding hands and hurrying home. The rain started when we were a few blocks from the condo. Brooke’s suede shoes were at risk, but she refused my offer to carry her and picked up the pace until we were racing each other down the last block.

Wet and laughing, we stumbled into the building. For a moment, I forgot my birthday woes, lost in the sparkle of her eyes and the sweet way she bit her lip and giggled when she caught her reflection in the glass doors as they closed behind us. I tugged her against my chest, kissing her until we were breathless.

Her fingers twined with mine as she led us upstairs and into the condo. Shaking out of our damp coats and kicking off our shoes, we grinned at one another the entire time. A hand on my arm stopped me when I made to put away our things in the closet.

Brooke’s soft smile could knock me dead. “Go get dry. Meet me out here at midnight. I just need to do one last thing.”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead and nodded, ignoring the knot in my gut. “Yeah. Midnight.” Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen. That fucking fifteen. That?—

My gaze drifted to the closet. Fifteen years old, standing in front of it, focused on my embarrassment instead of considering hers. I couldn’t change that night, and maybe I didn’t want to anyway when it led us here.

But I could make it right.