22. Every Little Detail

22

Every Little Detail

Dax

Wednesday, May 31 st

9:35 p.m.

Whoever said out of sight, out of mind is a fucking lunatic. There's a good chance I crossed a line, and there's no turning back. A part of me feels guilty. Brighton is Liam's doctor, and she's off-limits, but a bigger part of me is pretending that information doesn't exist.

There's no way I would jeopardize Liam getting the best treatment possible. And that means there's no way I can pursue anything with Brighton despite having her number taunting me from my phone.

There's no loophole.

She's a no.

Hard pass.

Once I get to our apartment, I opt for the stairs. I need something to take my mind off her, and I'm not ready for Liam's interrogation, and with the lapse in time, he's going to be suspicious.

The first ten floors are easy. The following six kill me. I pause with my hands on my knees, my lungs screaming. Weights are not all they're cracked up to be.

Need.

To.

Work.

On.

Cardio.

Pant, pant, die.

Ha. The alternate route and temporary lack of oxygen helped.

All thoughts of Brighton are gone.

Or they were.

Shit.

I drop onto the step, leaning against the railing, Liam's sushi and soup at my side.

He's too observant. He's gonna know. And I won't lie to him. But what am I gonna say to make what took place tonight not seem like a complete betrayal?

I was being friendly. And Brighton started it, so it's not entirely on me.

Axel and Bane scuffle behind the door as I make it to our apartment, and I focus on the idea of an ice-cold shower and a run at the park to distract myself, hoping it's enough to keep Liam off my case.

"Hey, guys," I say as I ruffle Axel's ear.

"Is my soup cold?"

"Hello to you too."

"What took so long?" He glares at me over the back of the sofa, muting the TV.

"Ran into a friend." I freeze, hoping Liam doesn't start digging.

"At Yogi's?" He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his soccer ball from the floor beside him. He eyes me, and I can only assume guilt is all over my face.

I continue to stare at the floor, petting Axel. If I ignore Liam long enough, maybe I can bluff my way out of his questioning.

He grabs the bag from my hand, peeking inside. "Did you get the spicy mustard?"

"It should be in there."

He rifles through the bag, drops his ball to the ground, and stabilizes it with his foot. "What's this?"

I stiffen. I'm sure I can talk my way out of whatever it is, but I'll have to chance making eye contact.

He holds up a napkin, the corner of his lip turned up in disgust.

A chuckle creeps from my lips, and his eyes snap to me. I sense his death stare and wait him out.

"They're called napkins, Liam. They're to wipe your face."

"Not if they're used." The words roll off his tongue as my heart plummets to my toes.

Oh, fuck.

He turns it, showing me the light pink lipstick smudge across the edge. I'm screwed.

"I don't want this." He pulls the sushi container out of the plastic bag and sets it on the counter, disgust written all over his face. "Where's the soup?"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I left it on the step.

Fuck me.

"I'll be right back. Left it on the stairs." I sense the heat of his gaze on my face.

"Why'd you take the stairs?"

"To think." I palm the handle and jerk the door open, needing to get Liam off my back.

"About this?" he holds the napkin by the edge, waving it in the air, and our eyes meet. He deciphers the fear on my face and goes in for the kill. "Who did you say you ran into?" His jaw flexes as he takes the tray from the counter to inspect it himself.

"I didn't."

"The girl from the gym?"

I take hold of his offer, knowing there's no way I can dig myself out of this hole. "I've never mentioned her before."

Axel and Bane sit at our feet. I ruffle Axel's ear, wishing Liam would drop it. Now that his radar has gone off, I have no hope.

"This is hers?" He holds the napkin by the corner, still unsure whether or not it's safe to handle.

I stare at it, wishing I had been more observant. "Guess so. She must have put it in the wrong bag after we ate."

"At Yogi's?"

The tension is killing me. This is how Liam does it. He annoys me until I have no choice but to spill my deepest, darkest secrets.

"No, the park." I give up. "I ran into Brighton—Dr. Fields. We walked to the park and ate sushi. She went home. That's it." I flick my hands up in relief, probably giving away more information than necessary.

The look of shock on his face registers a second before he recuperates. "Dr. Fields, as in my doctor ?"

I should run to my room and lock myself away, but the last thing I need is for him to dig when there's nothing for him to find.

"I was being nice."

"What's wrong with you?" He's like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Once he smells blood, there's no going back. "You're on a first-name basis with my doctor?"

It's a good thing I didn't mention her giving me her number.

I wait for him to explode.

I can feel it coming.

I brace for the impact.

I'd deserve it.

But nothing happens.

He stands in silence, fists balled at his sides, refusing to look at me.

"I didn't plan it or anything," I try to explain. "It just happened."

"Do you have to cross the line with everything?" His voice trembles as he flexes his fingers. "I was going to remind you I have an appointment on Monday, but I can go by myself. I don't want you around her."

"I didn't do anything wrong." His question takes me off guard, and I wipe a hand down my face, trying to reiterate nothing happened.

"Nothing's off-limits to you. Women throw themselves at you constantly, and you go after my fucking doctor?"

I bite my tongue. He knows how to piss me off without trying. I should have considered the outcome of my asking Brighton to join me beforehand, but I didn't do anything.

Yet.

"It wasn't like that." My need to clarify goes into overdrive. "She was choking. I gave her tea, and we went to the park. It was nothing."

"I know you better than that."

"I wouldn't cross that line." I considered it, which he never needs to know, but having Liam freak out and knowing nothing happened makes her not worth it.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "Looks like you already did."

His interest seems a little over the top, even for him. There's only one logical explanation: I'm an easy target for the brunt of his frustration.

He's not pissed at me.

Even if he has every right to be.

This is something else. Something he's taking out on me: He's pissed at life .

If I could get him to chill out—I already know she's a no-go—maybe I could get him to back off and relax. The last thing I want or need is for him to be pissed off when I leave for work.

"I have no intention of taking things anywhere. Do you honestly think I'd do that to you?"

He considers it and pulls his shoulders to his ears. "Guess it would be a first."

"It's not a first anything. I'm not gonna do anything with your doctor. I was being nice and didn't think she should be out alone."

He juggles the ball between his feet before booting it across the living room. We watch as it bounces off the floor-to-ceiling window beside the TV.

"Are you listening to me?"

"You're so selfish." He pulls out a stool at the counter and plops onto it, cupping his chin in his palm. He takes the chopsticks from the paper slip and pokes at his sushi. "You only think about yourself and what you want. You never think about anyone else or how your actions will affect them. Just because you want something doesn't mean you can have it."

"Insightful."

"You mean honest."

I throw my hands in the air. "I don't want anything to do with her, Liam. Shit." I rake my hands through my hair, annoyed by his train of thought. "Eat your fucking sushi and stop being a baby."

He flings the chopsticks across the kitchen, knocking over the stool as he stands. I'm curious if he's gonna step up to me, but he shoulders past me and stomps toward his room. He stops in the doorway and turns to face me, pointing his finger at me. "Fuck you, Dax. And fuck this," he flails his hands around in the air. "All of it. I'm done. I don't fucking care anymore."

Bane takes off after him, making it into Liam's room before he slams the door. Axel ignores the commotion and props his front paws on the stool Liam vacated, sniffing the tray. His movement draws my attention, and my eyes land on Liam's phone on the counter's edge. I grab it and see it's open, figuring what he was looking at has something to do with his attitude.

I wish I hadn't.

The survival rate for patients with metastatic Ewing Sarcoma is less than fifteen percent. But what does that mean for Liam? No wonder he's on edge.

Liam needs me, and I need to respect his stance on things.

I slide his phone across the counter, not wanting to see what else he found. I've been there, done that. It's not good. When he wants to talk about it, I'm here. And he knows that.

Axel follows me to the door, and I slip into the hall. After retrieving Liam's soup, making amends before I head upstate is my number one priority.

I grab his soup from the landing where I left it. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I check to see who it is as I head back upstairs.

It's Bree. I don't have the energy to formulate a response to all the questions I'm sure she's gonna ask.

I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail. I don't want to talk right now.

I enter the apartment, and Axel bounds in front of me, leading me toward Liam's room. He paws at the door but gets no response.

I knock and press my ear against the wood. "Liam?" There's still nothing. "I got your soup."

I get why he doesn't want me to have anything to do with Brighton outside of her being his doctor—I do—but there's something about her, about how we seemed to connect, that has me holding out a little hope. When all this is over, when Liam's recovered, and all of this is a bad memory, what could our future hold?

I set his soup on the counter next to his phone. This is out of my hands. Brighton's reticence outweighed her interest, and there's no way I'm gonna try to take things further, especially in light of Liam's outburst.

"Liam?" I trek across the living room, stopping to roll my knuckles across his door. "You can't hide from me forever." I try the knob, finding it locked, and knock again.

"Says who."

I crack a smile. I knew he wouldn't stay mad for too long. "I have your soup."

The door flies open, and Axel and I almost tumble inside.

He marches past us, determined to make us experience the brunt of his frustration a little longer.

"Did you get the crispy things?" He glances inside the bag, rummaging around until he pulls out the plastic-wrapped spoon and container of wonton strips. Satisfied, he grabs the soup and makes his way to the microwave. He avoids looking at me while acting preoccupied with the buttons. "Please stay away from her."

"I told you I would."

He holds up a hand without turning. "I'm serious. I don't want you to scare her off." The microwave beeps. He pulls out the container and returns to his stool.

"You have my word." My phone vibrates again as I make my way to my room and drop onto the mattress. I click on my voicemail.

"Wanted to go over the plan for the weekend and check on Liam. Holler at me." A grunt cuts off Bree's irritated voice as she hangs up.

I swipe my thumb across the message and tap delete.

She answers on the third ring. "Dax, my second favorite person."

"I'm offended."

"Stop thinking everything is personal. It's not all about you."

I tsk into the phone. "Who's your first?"

"That's highly confidential information."

"It's Liam."

"It's a toss-up."

"Between me and Liam."

"No, between Liam and the neighbor."

I kick off my shoes, noting the thud as they connect with the floor. Axel or Bane will come to investigate in three, two . . .

Bane sticks his head in the door, his tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He waggles over to my shoes, sniffs, and hops his front paws next to me on the bed.

"Who's a good boy?" I ruffle his ears and push onto my elbow. "Wait, which neighbor?"

"The hot one." She gives me an amused chuckle.

"Did you get a new neighbor? I don't remember there being a hot anything near you," I tease. "Do I even make the list?"

She chuckles. "How's Liam?"

"Pissed," I say this a little louder than necessary, hoping Liam will hear me talking about him.

"What'd you do this time?"

"Why do you think I did something?" I feign heartache at her accusation, but I'm not sure I succeed. She doesn't know the half of it. I fall back onto the pillow, covering my face with my arm. Am I that predictable?

"Because you're you. Anyway, I was calling . . ." There's a long pause. "Look, I'm not always the one you guys come to for help, but I wanted to talk to you . . ."

There's a knock on the door. Liam peeks his head in my room. "Dax?" His tone causes the hair on my arms to stand on end.

"Bree, let me call you back."

"Wait, hear me out. It'll only take a sec. I wanted to explain somethi—"

I hang up, kicking my feet over the edge of the bed, and stand. "Everything okay?"

Liam's voice cracks as he extends his phone. "You're gonna wanna see this."