Chapter Ten
Kayla moved slowly back into her apartment. She didn’t have any earthly idea what had just happened. Liam had been . . .
Well, first he’d been super-hot. No one had ever kissed her the minute her door was opened as if they had been starved for her all day.
Then, he’d lied to Dinah. Easily. As though people shouldn’t know they were . . . doing whatever it was they were doing. Kayla stepped back into her apartment trying to fix a smile on to her face, and failing miserably.
“What on God’s green earth is Liam Patrick doing in your apartment?” Dinah demanded, all but pouncing on her. “I want every detail. Especially if they’re dirty.”
Kayla’s cheeks heated and she was probably bright red at this point, which meant lying was pointless. She’d never been any good at lying to Dinah. It was half of why she’d had to separate herself from Dinah in the grand claiming of her life.
“I don’t buy the sink thing for a second, so you might as well spill,” Dinah said, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning.
“Um.” Kayla blew out a breath and marched into the kitchen. “I need wine for this conversation.”
“Ooh. Exciting.” Dinah followed her into the little postage stamp of a kitchen. “You . . . haven’t done much around your place.”
“No.” Kayla grabbed one of the bottles of wine Dinah had set on the counter next to her corkscrew. She went to work opening the bottle without bothering to elaborate.
“Is there a safe topic here?” Dinah asked softly.
Kayla closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe nothing was safe or easy, and maybe she had to deal with it.
“I haven’t done anything with this place because I hate it.”
“Kay—”
She didn’t want Dinah’s sympathy, or whatever offer of help she was likely to give, so Kayla bulldozed on. “And I don’t know exactly what’s going on with Liam.” She poured herself a very generous glass of wine before handing the bottle and an empty glass to Dinah. Maybe an hour ago she would have had a more certain answer, but the last ten minutes with Liam had made everything . . . confusing.
“But it’s dirty, right? That was a dirty vibe.”
Kayla laughed. No matter how confused she felt about it, Dinah had a way of zeroing in on the easy thing. Always giving Kayla the simple way out. Was that what she wanted to be? The fragile girl who needed a way out?
“I like him a lot,” Kayla said, her tone maybe too serious. Maybe everything was too serious, but Liam wasn’t exactly a joke. She didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t that.
“Okay,” Dinah said carefully.
“And there has been some dirty stuff.”
Dinah let out a little whoop and crossed over and took Kayla by the shoulders. “Liam Patrick. Liam Patrick.”
“Why do you keep saying his full name?” Kayla returned, laughing even harder as Dinah clapped her hands on Kayla’s cheeks.
“I don’t know. It’s just Liam Patrick. We know him. He’s our handyman. And, oh God, I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again without wondering just how handy.”
Kayla laughed even as she blushed all over again, and it was nice to laugh with Dinah, her cousin, her best friend. It was nice to be a little silly. But... “He’s Gallagher’s handyman, not ours.”
Dinah’s hands slipped off Kayla’s face and she took a step back. “Right. Old habits.” She smiled thinly.
Which wasn’t what Kayla wanted either. She wanted to be brave, but she didn’t want to lose . . . She wanted them to be friends, not Gallaghers. “He’s very, very good with his hands,” Kayla managed deadpan. “And his mouth.”
Dinah all but choked on the gulp of wine she’d taken, but once she was done sputtering, she grinned. Dinah grabbed Kayla’s free hand and led her out to the living room. They both settled in with their glasses of wine, a pan of brownies already on the table. Kayla had put two spoons next to the pan as was their old tradition.
“You have to tell me,” Dinah said, leaning toward Kayla with a very serious expression on her face. “What size . . . tool are we talking about here?”
“Dinah!”
“If I don’t know, every time I see him I’ll wonder, and that’s just not good for business.”
“If we talk about Liam’s tool, I’m going to start asking questions about Carter’s . . .” Kayla struggled to come up with a farming-related term. “Cucumber!”
Dinah picked up a spoon, holding the wineglass regally in the other hand. She scooped out a bite of brownie and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Carter’s cucumber is very healthy. In fact, it might be the healthiest cucumber I’ve ever had.”
Kayla burst into a fit of giggles and Dinah joined. This was nice. This was what she missed. Her friend over her coworker. Her cousin over her sharer-of-business-related interests.
“So, Liam’s tool. Don’t think you’ll distract me with talk of my boyfriend’s impressive cucumber.”
“Impressive is a good word for it,” Kayla managed, though she wanted to giggle some more. “Very, very impressive.”
Dinah leaned back against the cushion and sighed dreamily as she sipped her wine. “A good man is hard to find. A good man who is also ‘impressive’ is quite the find. But you said you don’t know what’s going on.”
Kayla frowned at her wine, then leaned over and took a big scoop of brownie. “I don’t know why he lied. To you. About fixing a sink.”
“Well, you know, I think he might have come here to unclog your drain.”
Kayla rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help a smile. “There are too many metaphors going on. If a cucumber ends up in a drain, I think we’re going to have problems.”
Dinah opened her mouth, but then she shook her head and shoved brownie into it instead of saying anything.
Kayla frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What were you going to say?”
Dinah sighed. “I was going to give you advice, and then I reminded myself you don’t need it. You’re a grownup, and I know half the reason you shut me out is because I didn’t always treat you like one.”
“No, it was because Gallagher’s—” But at Dinah’s raised eyebrow, Kayla realized Dinah had a point. She had framed it about needing space from Gallagher’s, and Dinah’s dedication to the family business meant that was her too, but it had been more than just business.
“Kay, I love you—you—not because of Gallagher’s or because I used to boss you around and you’d listen, but because you’re smart and you’re kind and you’ve always known how to make me laugh, or very gently point out when I’ve gone a little off the deep end.” Dinah leaned forward, eyes glistening with tears Kayla knew she wouldn’t shed. “Things have changed for me since Carter. I’m not that same bulldozer. I don’t want to be.”
“Because of Carter?”
Dinah shrugged. “Kind of. I know I used to talk a big game about never letting a man change me or always feeling complete and happy without a boyfriend, and it’s not like I’ve changed my mind on that, but . . . Love, well, it shifts your priorities, I guess. It makes you see things about yourself, good and bad, and I was in a kind of crappy place before Carter, and you know what? I’m not going to be ashamed to admit that meeting and falling in love with a really good guy who cares about me and wants to take care of me changed me a little bit. Fixed some things that were broken. Not all the things, sure, but some. Love is powerful. Even if that sounds lame, I don’t care. I believe it. I lived it. I am living in that power and some days I want to smack that man so hard he sees stars, but I never, ever have regretted standing up to Grandmother and losing out on the director position. Even when he drives me to the brink of insanity, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
Kayla wasn’t quite sure what to do with that impassioned speech. It all made her vaguely uncomfortable. Love and good guys and all sorts of complicated things she wasn’t all that certain she was strong enough for.
Besides, shouldn’t she be happy with herself first? Shouldn’t she know who she was without a shadow of a doubt before she started letting some guy change her? Dinah could say all that stuff because she’d always been strong. Kayla was still learning.
Not that Liam was . . . He was a good guy, and maybe he had taken care of her, but that’s what he did. It had been a few hours over a few nights strung together. Dinah’s speech shouldn’t hit some weird place inside of her.
“Plus,” Dinah continued, her smile going sly, “he’s super-hot and really good at sex. That’ll put anyone in a good mood.”
Kayla managed a chuckle and decided to focus on that. On friendship. On brownies and wine and funny movies. On her best friend, who’d changed, and herself, who had too, and maybe tomorrow she’d know what to do about Liam Patrick.
But if she woke up as confused as ever, Kayla was certain of one thing: She wouldn’t let that stop her.
* * *
Liam didn’t go straight home from Kayla’s. Instead, he’d dropped by his grandmother’s house and she’d force-fed him the casserole she’d made for dinner.
She’d subtly mentioned how infrequent his visits were, and he took care of a few little projects. Changed a lightbulb that had gone out, oiled a squeaky door and the like.
He didn’t even argue when she’d insisted on serving him dessert. He’d simply sat at her cramped dining room table and listened carefully to all her stories of his various cousins and their offspring.
God knew there’d be some kind of test to see if he’d been listening, and when he least expected it to boot.
Still, when he got up to leave, she’d patted his cheek and told him he was a “good boy.” She’d given him that look that told him she had quite a few pieces of advice to bestow upon him but had decided to offer him reprieve tonight.
It had settled him, to be of some use to a person who mattered to him. To help, to fix, to listen. He didn’t feel quite so churned up anymore.
At least until he pulled his truck into his usual parking spot on the street in front of his house. He frowned at the shadowy figure on his stoop. Even though he couldn’t see the person, he had the sinking suspicion it was Aiden.
Which meant one of two things: Aiden was either in trouble or extraordinarily drunk. Maybe even both. But it was the only time Aiden ever came to Liam’s place. Otherwise they only saw each other at Mom and Dad’s when Aiden graced them all with his presence. But Aiden never let Mom see him drunk.
Liam had the insane urge to drive away. He didn’t want to deal with Aiden’s bullshit tonight. Not when he was still a little edgy underneath the calm that helping Grandma out had given him.
But Aiden was his brother, and if he was drunk or in trouble, it was Liam’s duty to help. Like Dad had said earlier, Aiden just required a bit more attention, a bit more help. Liam didn’t want Mom or Dad or, God forbid, Grandma having to worry about Aiden’s shit.
So Liam got out of his truck and trudged toward his front door.
“Well, there you are,” Aiden slurred, still just a dark shadow on Liam’s stoop. “Don’t tell me bro-bro has a life.”
“Bro-bro? Christ, how drunk are you?” Liam muttered, taking the step up to the concrete pad.
Aiden stumbled to his feet. “Very, very, very drunk,” he said gravely. “Where’ve you been, asshole?”
Liam sighed. “Grandma Patrick’s house.”
Aiden laughed. Hysterically. He even slapped his knee a few times as if Liam had just told the joke of the century. “Of course you fucking were. You were fixing her fucking toilet and probably vacuuming her fucking curtains and she gave you milk and fucking cookies. Saint fucking Liam.”
“Isn’t that something like blasphemy?” Liam replied drily. Clearly Aiden was itching for a fight, and Liam was not in the mood to navigate Aiden’s mercurial temper when he was drunk.
But that was his job, wasn’t it? And he’d learned a few tricks after thirty years on the planet. First, never rise to the bait Aiden laid.
Liam unlocked his door and shoved it open before motioning Aiden inside. “I suppose you want a place to crash.”
“Nowhere else to go,” Aiden muttered, weaving and stumbling into the house.
Liam flicked on a light and Aiden collapsed onto the couch.
Liam frowned, the first trickle of worry over annoyance skittering down his spine. It certainly wasn’t the first time Aiden had shown up at his place drunk and antagonistic, but this was . . . extreme.
“Where have you been? Mom’s been worried.”
Aiden laughed again, though not quite as uproariously. “Do you ever fight your own fucking battles, Liam? Or are you always too busy taking up the sword for every damn other person.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means maybe if Mom is worrying it’s none of your damn business.”
“My brother. My mother. My family. That’s my business, Aiden. Maybe you don’t feel the same way, but—”
“But I’m wrong, right? I’m unfeeling and selfish and so fucking wrong?”
The worry buried deeper. Aiden usually didn’t have a bad thing to say about himself. “What is with you?”
Aiden shrugged. “Everything, right? Isn’t that what everyone’s always saying? I am the problem. I am an asshole. A wolf in sheep-ass clothing.”
“You’re drunk enough to be incomprehensible. Sleep it off.”
Of course, instead, Aiden pushed off the couch and weaved enough that Liam felt the need to reach out and steady him.
“’S fine,” Aiden said, pushing Liam’s steadying hand away. “I ended shit and it’s all fine and dandy. I’ll call Kayla tomorrow and everything will be fine.”
Liam kept himself very still, reminded himself to breathe, to be the rational, sober adult in the room. Because a good half of that didn’t make sense. “You’re staying away from Kayla from here on out. Understood?”
Aiden squinted at him. “Says who?”
“Me.”
“Lemme guess,” Aiden said, apparently attempting to slap Liam on the shoulder but missing entirely. “You think she’s too good for me.”
“That’s not—”
“Kayla Ganna—Gabba—Gallagher is a fucking princess and I am a useless fuckup.”
“I didn’t say that, Aiden,” Liam said through gritted teeth. He didn’t know what to do with his brother being a drunken, self-pitying ass. He could fight antagonism. He knew what to do with that.
In what seemed to be the theme for today, he did not know what to do with this.
“Don’t have to say what’s truth. But maybe someone good and shit would fix what’s wrong with me.”
“Only you can fix what’s wrong with you,” Liam replied flatly as Aiden plopped back onto the couch. He sprawled out and closed his eyes.
“You’re confusing us, Li-Li. You’re the strong one. You can fix everything. Well, ’cept me, but sometimes I wonder if you ever tried.”
“Look, Kayla and I . . .”
But Aiden was making a faint snoring sound, his face lax, his body limp. Well, Liam supposed explanations about Kayla could wait until morning when Aiden was more likely to remember it anyway.
Liam shoved a cushion under his brother’s head, hoping to God he didn’t have to clean up another person’s puke again. But he wondered if Aiden was right.
Maybe he’d never really tried to help Aiden. Maybe he’d only ever pushed him away.