8. Shane

"Liam,"I knocked on his door once more. "I"m just going to leave your plate in the fridge, alright?"

Still no response. It had been hours since he locked himself in his room. At first, I thought he might have been tired, perhaps taking a nap.

However, the lights were on, and I could hear him moving around inside. Moving quite a lot, actually. When I called out to him again, he still wouldn"t open the door.

For some reason, I had a feeling he was up to something. I decided to wait in the living room, prepared to stay up all night if I had to.

After a couple more hours passed, I turned off the TV and the lights, to make him think I had gone to bed. My suspicions were confirmed.

Liam"s door slowly creaked open, and I could see him trying to be quiet as he tiptoed past the living room towards the front door with a small bag slung over his shoulder.

I turned on the lamp beside me. "You know, I"m getting tired of having to ask you where you plan on going," I said, unable to conceal the frustration in my voice.

Liam whipped his head towards me, clearly not expecting me to still be awake and waiting for him.

His eyes widened, like a deer caught in headlights. But it lasted only for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at me. "I just wanted to get out of your hair. Didn"t want to trouble you with babysitting a spoiled mage like me."

His last few words were dripping with sarcasm.

Why did they sound so familiar though?

I cursed under my breath, making a mental note to give Levi a piece of my mind the next time I saw him.

But, was that all what this was about?

"Look, I'm sorry about what my friend said earlier. But were you really just going to sneak out without telling me?" I asked.

When he didn"t respond, I shook my head, feeling a mixture of disbelief and frustration. He looked down, his grip on the bag tightening. "I just... I thought it was for the best," he said.

"The best?" I scoffed, my voice rising despite my efforts to keep it steady. "Do you even understand why I"m here?"

Liam"s eyes met mine, confusion clouding his expression. "Because... because your lead alpha told you to. It's your job," he answered.

"He did. And it's my duty to protect you and keep you safe no matter what. There are people after you, Liam. We have to be careful," I reminded him.

More importantly, I want you to stay by my side.

I wanted to say those words aloud, but I swallowed them instead.

A flash of something unreadable passing through his eyes. Was it anger? Disappointment?

"I didn"t ask for your protection, Shane. I never wanted any of this," Liam pointed out.

I stood up and walked towards him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Maybe not. But you need it. Whether you like it or not," I said.

I could see the turmoil swirling behind Liam"s eyes. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he lowered his gaze to the floor.

Without another word, he turned away from me and retreated back to his room.

As his door closed shut, I couldn"t help but feel a pang of guilt clawing at my chest. Maybe I had been too harsh, too quick to confront him.

But at the same time, I couldn"t shake the feeling that I was just doing what needed to be done.

With a heavy sigh, I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and exhaustion washing over me in waves. This wasn"t how I had envisioned things going between us, but maybe... maybe it was for the best.

The night Liam attempted to sneak out was the last time we spoke more than two words to each other.

Well, except for the brief exchange about lunch the other day when he simply replied with, "I don"t know." So, that was three words I guess.

But that was the extent of our conversations lately. Our interactions had dwindled to monosyllabic responses: Yes. No.

Then, he"d scurry back to his room, and not come out until he had to. I was starting to feel like a prison warden, except he was the one willingly going back into his cell.

I glanced at the watch above the refrigerator. 3.27 pm. In a matter of minutes, Liam would cautiously crack open his door, survey the surroundings, and make sure the coast was clear.

Then, he would quickly make his way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and grab a book from one of his boxes in the living room before vanishing back into his room.

I let out a long sigh and made myself scarce from the kitchen so that Liam could make his tea, and then I made my way to the porch instead.

James was coming over later, so I needed to tidy up the backyard a bit anyway.

I vaguely heard the sound of a door closing and shuffling around the house and closed my eyes. This wouldn't do at all.

Sure, it made my job easier in a way. For the past week, I knew exactly where he was and that he was safe. I even knew his routine down to the minute.

But was this how things were going to be between us? Especially after that kiss he gave me right before things deteriorated to their current state.

Although, maybe it was really for the best. I thought felt something, especially at the pharmacy, but maybe it was the fluorescent lights in the store triggering something in my brain, making it malfunction and having those, dare I say, romantic thoughts.

Anyway, it felt too soon after Chris, and Liam had a lot going on right now. It didn't seem like the right time for either of us to pursue… whatever this was, wherever that kiss was leading us to.

But for some reason, the idea of relegating ourselves to just a bodyguard-client relationship left a strange feeling in my stomach. The sound of the back gate opening interrupted my thoughts.

"Why are your things still in boxes? I thought you moved in over a month ago," James remarked, setting down the beer he brought next to the pizza I ordered earlier.

"What?" I asked.

"The boxes?" he asked again, this time pointing at the living room visible through the glass sliding door that lead to the backyard.

"They're not mine," I said, leaning back and peering into the house.

"So… they're Liam's?" James asked, looking at me pointedly.

"Yes…" I said slowly. Where was he going with this? I was starting to regret asking him over for dinner.

I was growing bored of being at home and tired of my own cooking. Plus, there was no point in inviting Liam to eat out since he avoided me like the plague.

However, things did seem to be improving. Yesterday, he didn't stomp off to the other room when we were in the same space. He simply walked away this time.

I'd call that a win. At this rate, we could finally have an actual conversation in a month. If I was lucky.

"But didn't he move in like, a week ago?" James asked, looking into the house again.

I crossed my arms. "Your point being?"

"Why are all his things still in boxes? Why is he not out here eating with us? And what's with all this weird tension?" James blurted out, as if he'd been trying to hold it in since he arrived earlier.

I looked into the house again to make sure Liam wasn't in the kitchen anymore and couldn't overhear our conversation. It seemed like he was already back in his room.

I grabbed my beer from the table beside me and took a long swig before answering. "There's nowhere to put his things for now. I got him some pizza. It's on the counter, and I put a post-it on top. And there's no tension," I said, ticking off the answers to his questions with my fingers.

My voice did crack a little at the last bit, which I tried to cover with a cough and another swig of beer, hoping James wouldn't notice.

"A post-it?" He asked slowly.

"So he knows it's his. I even wrote down some reheating instructions," I explained.

James leaned back on his chair, shaking his head. "So that's why the mood's weird."

Okay, definitely regretting asking him over for dinner at this point.

James continued, "You say he's moved in, but his things are in boxes. There's no furniture. You talk through post-its. What is this? That's no way to treat a guest."

I was shocked, feeling called out. Who was he to tell me this?

My mind drifted back to the time when James crashed at my apartment during a particularly rough patch in his life. This was before he had his barbecue joint.

He had promised it would only be for a few days until he found a job and got back on his feet. But those "few days" stretched into weeks, then months, with no sign of him making any effort to leave.

I remembered delicately broaching the topic of him finding his own place, only to be met with excuses and promises that he would start looking "soon". And now, here he was, acting like he knew everything about hosting guests and making them feel welcome.

It was hard to take his advice seriously when he had overstayed his welcome more times than I could count.

"Hey! He isn't so perfect either," I argued.

Liam didn't replace the toilet paper when it was finished. He turned down the thermostat even when it was freezing. He even threw out his used tea leaves over the mini herb garden in the backyard. Which, now that I thought about it, when did that happen? Did he buy them online and plant them himself?

I also noticed he would sometimes make breakfast for me in the morning if I went out for a run.

"Well?" James asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"No, it's nothing," I said, and added, "I just, I'm not sure what to do."

"Just do something. Not just leave little post-its. Do more," James suggested.

James was right. This was classic me, leaving things to work itself out on its own. But what if it didn't solve itself? What if it got worse than this?

I welcomed the change in subject when James asked, "Any leads with the alley attack?"

I explained that when I handed the gun over to Owen, they couldn't find any residue that could help us get a lead. The CCTV around the area didn't catch anything either. It was like the guy disappeared into thin air.

For all I knew, he could really just be a mugger, a very careful one at that. But there was a nagging feeling that I shouldn't just let it go, that Liam still wasn't safe.

It was that same feeling that had driven me to take extra precautions, to ensure Liam"s safety at all costs.

But, was I only doing this to fulfill my duties as a bodyguard? I wasn"t sure. Did the reasons really matter in the end? All that mattered was that I knew I wanted to do it.

Maybe it was too late to save what could have been between us. Despite the uneasy feeling in my stomach at that thought, I still wanted to make things right—to extend a peace offering.

The next morning, I went to town first thing to get what I needed. I borrowed James' truck because I wouldn't be able to bring everything back otherwise.

When I returned, I found a plate of toast and scrambled eggs waiting for me on the kitchen counter with a post-it note. "Breakfast," it read, in Liam's scribbly handwriting.

I smiled as I quickly ate, eager to set up my surprise. I had to be done before 12:15, which was when he usually came out of his room for lunch.

Once I was done, I stood outside Liam"s door, waiting patiently for him to come out.

As he opened the door and saw me, he hesitated, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Without giving him a chance to go back in, I reached out and gently took his hand, silently urging him to follow me to the porch.