O Face, page 17
“Well?” I asked. “What’s the damage, doc?”
“According to your file, it’s not nearly as bad as it could have been. You obviously took care of yourself and took your recovery seriously. A lot of guys don’t.”
“A lot of guys didn’t have enough fluid in their ear canal to drown a cat.”
“Good point.” He sighed, clearly still too distracted by what he’d found to show amusement at my joke.
“But,” I prompted.
“But the ears aren’t as healed as I’d like,” he admitted.
“More fluid?” I guessed.
He nodded. “It’s affecting your balance on both sides. Although, the left is worse.”
“But that’s the cochlear implant.”
“Which is why I’m concerned. Look, I know you’ve already come a long way but the first few months after a procedure like this are critical. You’re still well within that window which means taking extra caution and remaining watchful.”
“I’m committed to healing,” I assured him. “What can I do?”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He handed me a script. “Use these drops twice a day to dry up that fluid.”
“Will do. And if the fluid doesn’t resolve on its own?”
“We’ll have to go in and drain it, which, for a new implant, can be a little traumatic. If it comes to that, I’ll want to consult with the donor company and its representatives on the tech—”
“It won’t come to that,” I assured him.
Fucking A, the last thing I wanted to do was have to ask Franklin Industries for more help. Especially after the way Cassie’s father had treated her and what I knew about him now. Not to mention Evan.
“All right then. Use those drops and check back in with me in a week.”
I shook the doc’s hand, promising him I would do everything he said. On the way out, I checked my phone. It lit up and buzzed with several new texts.
One from Jamie: Bro, Katelynn Hooper says she wants your “wood.” Hehe.
Something about a custom banister. Call me.
And one from Cassie: At Summerville Country Club. Would love to see you in a bathing suit. Or your birthday suit. Also—I think I drank myself under the table. It’s a celebration, bitches!!
I shot Jamie a quick response, promising to call him later—and ignoring his crude innuendo. I reread Cassie’s text and hesitated. Part of me wanted to ignore it because Summerville Country Club seemed like a prime location for my ridiculous celebrity status to be exploited, and I couldn’t afford to punch anyone else right now. My knuckles needed to be in full working order if I was going to make a banister.
But Cassie sounded pretty buzzed, and I couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her to drive herself home. Besides, I hadn’t seen her in a couple of days now thanks to all the furniture orders I’d had. Word spread fast in a town like this one, and I had a feeling those words came specifically from Jamie bragging about me to all his lady friends. Still, I’d take it where I could get it. The idea of a shop was seriously growing on me.
In the end, my manners won out and I started up the truck, heading for the club despite my reservations.
I’d barely made it through the club’s lobby before three different women had stopped me and fawned over “the war hero back home again.” I’d even been cornered by one gentleman whose hair looked slick enough to drift tires on. He’d tried convincing me to shoot a television commercial for his car dealership, complete with me in military uniform and waving a giant American flag for the camera. It had taken everything in me not to tell him to “fuck off” and instead politely assure him I’d think it over.
By the time I found the pool area, and Cassie lying in a lounge chair at the far end, I was ready to get the hell out of here.
Cassie, however, was not.
She sat up when she saw me, setting her nearly empty drink aside hard enough to send the little umbrella tumbling out onto the concrete deck. The loss went unnoticed by Cassie.
“Liam!” she called loud enough to turn heads.
I grimaced and hurried to close the distance. “Hey. What’s the occasion?”
She patted the deck chair beside her. “Celebrating life,” she said except that it sounded like “celubratin luff.”
“I see.”
She studied me with glassy eyes. “You don’t look like a celebration.”
“I think your definition of celebrating and mine are a little different.”
Her bottom lip poked out, and she offered me what was left of her drink. “You should catch up to me.”
“Nah. I’m good. Can I drive you home?”
“Later,” she said, waving her hand. Her eyes lit up as a server walked by. “Miss,” she called, which sounded like “mish.” “Can I get another drink?”
The server eyed Cassie and then glanced at me. I shook my head once. A subtle no. “Surrre,” she said, walking off. I watched as she went straight to the juice dispenser and poured a glass of that instead.
“I usually hate this place,” Cassie said, leaning back against her chair.
“Why did you come here then?” I asked, because honestly, I didn’t disagree with her. Everywhere I looked, golfers and trophy wives were strutting around each other like preening peacocks. Across the pool, a group of women sat locked in conversation, their dark glasses making it impossible to know what they were so hushed about—until one of them pointed at me. I looked away, pretending I hadn’t noticed, but my knee bounced in impatience, my keys clutched tight in my hand.
“Because,” Cassie answered, “I don’t think I’ll be back after this, and I wanted one last day to feel like I was somebody.”
That got my attention. I waited until the server had delivered Cassie’s juice, complete with a little umbrella and a slice of pineapple. She sipped and seemed oblivious to the lack of alcohol. “Cass, you are somebody.”
She shook her head. “Maybe, but I’m not a Franklin.”
“Of course, you are.”
“No. My daddy made Evan a Franklin instead. He gets everything, and I don’t even have a job anymore.”
I stared at her, trying to make sense of the words. She was drunk and definitely slurring, but she didn’t seem confused. “You really lost your job?”
She shrugged. “I quit. Screw them. I’m not going to let Evan win. And I’m damn sure not going to let him be my boss. I’ll figure something out.” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe I’ll paint.”
“You paint?”
“I painted my bedroom. And all the other rooms. Maybe I can paint rooms on canvases,” she said—except it came out canvushez.
“Sure,” I said. “I bet you’d be great.”
“Oh. I have a better idea.” She leaned forward, grabbing my shirt and nearly missing before she caught a handful of it in her fist. She yanked me closer, so we were eye to eye. Now, I could really feel everyone’s eyes on us.
“Cass,” I began, grabbing her wrist and drawing her away.
“Maybe we could paint each other,” she whispered.
Or tried to whisper. It came out louder than anything else she’d said. Some of the conversations around us died.
“Cass, let me take you home,” I said and she nodded, clearly taking that for my agreement to her brilliant idea. Not that it was horrible, but considering how drunk she was, it wasn’t happening today.
She let me help her up, and I dropped a few bills onto the table beside her chair. “You don’t have to do that. I have a tab,” she said.
“Well then it can be a tip,” I said, nodding to the server watching us from across the deck. She looked relieved to see us leaving.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Cassie said.
“Huh?” It took me a minute to realize she was still talking about body paints. “Oh, right. Yep. Fun.”
She stopped walking and turned to glare at me suspiciously. “You don’t sound very into it.”
“I think the painting idea would work better another time,” I said carefully.
“Whoa.” Her eyes widened. “What is even happening right now? Is Liam Porter turning down sex?”
I frowned, very aware of how many people could hear us right now. “I think we should talk in the truck,” I said quietly.
“I don’t want to talk,” she pouted. “And I can’t believe you do either.”
My shoulders stiffened at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious. “Please. You know what I mean.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She scoffed. “You don’t talk, Liam. Everyone knows that. Your talents lie in other areas.” She winked—or tried to—but it looked like an awkward blink.
I had to work hard to remind myself she was just drunk. But it was really starting to grate on me, the assumptions she kept making. “Let’s just go,” I said finally, suddenly exhausted in ways I couldn’t even describe right now.
Cassie yawned abruptly. “Okay,” she agreed easily, oblivious to the tension between us. Or to the stares we’d drawn during our exchange.
I grabbed her elbow, and we started walking again.
No one stopped us on our way back through the lobby, and I suspected Cassie’s drunken chatter kept them away. At least it had one perk. Because while I did enjoy getting to know her and watching her come out of her duty-imposed shell, I was not a fan of drunken Cassie.
In fact, the more I saw of her, the more I couldn’t deny that while Cassie had clearly changed in the last few weeks, so had I. One night stands and casual sex no longer sounded as good as it once had. Neither did day drinking for that matter.
Now, I wanted a real life and a real partner to share it with. And when I imagined who that partner might be, I couldn’t deny the fact that it was Cassie’s face I saw when I closed my eyes, albeit a much more sober version of that face. But it seemed like the more serious I got—about us or just life in general—the farther away she drifted. Like we were on opposite courses, intersecting every now and then, and veering off and away when the exchange was over.
I wondered if maybe we were just too different. Or if it was bad timing. Or if maybe karma was playing a cruel joke on me. I’d nearly died to realize exactly how I wanted to live. And now that I knew, it seemed the universe was determined not to let me have it.
It was still strange, all these changes in how I saw my life, my future. That bomb hadn’t been my first encounter with danger. I’d spent four years diffusing and detonating bombs. I’d dove in shark-infested waters. I’d jumped out of helicopters when I hadn’t been sure what was below me. But even after all of it that explosion had done something to me. Gotten my attention. Made me think. If defying death over and over again these last four years had taught me anything, it was this: you could only avoid fate for so long before she got your ass in the end. And fate, apparently, had a twisted sense of humor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cassie
The sunlight threatened to burn holes in my retinas. My head pounded in what was quite possibly the worst hangover anyone had ever had in the history of hangovers. And to top it off, I couldn’t find my phone. I made a mental note: “New Cassie” was still a lightweight when it came to mixed drinks.
After a shower, an attempt to eat toast, and a thorough search of my house, I still hadn’t overcome any of the issues plaguing me. The sunlight, even through the closed blinds, hurt like hell—but not as bad as my head.
And I still couldn’t find my phone.
I sighed, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs as I thought back to when I’d last seen it. I remembered drinking by the pool at the club yesterday and using my phone to text Jess who had been stuck at her job—a thing I no longer had. And then texting Liam an invitation to come join me.
“Ugh.” I groaned as I remembered how drunk I’d been when Liam had shown up. God, I must have been a hot mess.
I barely remembered a word I’d said to him and the last thing I remembered before I’d passed out was him tucking me into my bed. Despite how sweet that sounded, I knew instinctively that it wasn’t. When he’d walked out, he hadn’t seemed happy, and he hadn’t made a single move to sleep with me. Not even after I’d stripped down in front of him while nearly tripping on my swimsuit bottoms. Not my finest hour.
Hell, maybe he’d seen enough and run for the hills.
I couldn’t blame him after that.
But the idea of Liam moving on bothered me. A lot more than I wanted it to. I told myself that was ridiculous. No matter what happened between us from here on, hadn’t it been the best sex of my life?
I should be grateful for it.
So why did I feel so empty at the thought that it might be over soon—if not already?
Dragging my feet and nursing a sadness I didn’t understand, I climbed the stairs slowly and crawled back into bed. I didn’t have a job. Or my phone. What I had was a dark room and a blinding hangover. So I did the only thing I could with both of those: I slept.
The music was loud but thankfully my head was no longer pounding. Instead, I held my bottled water and sipped slowly as I bobbed my head to the beat of the band onstage. A two-day recovery from my poolside debacle wasn’t nearly enough to make me want to drink again so soon. Or be here for that matter. But I needed to get out and stop feeling sorry for myself. At least that’s what Jess had told me when she’d shown up on my doorstep earlier. I wasn’t yet convinced, but I had agreed to put in a solid hour before giving up and going home to sulk.
Across the dance floor, Jess was locked in what looked like a serious conversation with the band’s manager. I might have been fooled into thinking she was flirting if the guy hadn’t been someone I remembered from high school. And the fact that I’d never, ever seen Jess date anyone I knew. She pursed her lips and said something that earned a loud laugh from the guy, and I wondered if maybe I wasn’t the only one trying new things these days.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I whirled, already dreading whatever conversation I’d be trapped into with whatever acquaintance had spotted me here. “Oh.” I blinked. “Liam. What are you—?”
I stopped short at the sight of a girl beside him, but I relaxed instantly when I recognized Sophie, his little sister. The jealousy that had reared up dissolved again, and I pretended it hadn’t been irrationally possessive for the split second I’d recognized it.
He hadn’t called me since the pool incident. I knew that because I’d had to pick up my phone from the club’s front desk the following day. And as the events of the day had already started to trickle back that was a walk of shame I didn’t care to repeat. Not with the club and not with Liam though I definitely owed him an apology at the least. Part of me was ashamed of my behavior, but the other part was trying to accept that maybe it was all doomed from the start anyway.
“Hey, Sophie,” I said, forcing my voice light as I ignored Liam. One look. One look at him was all it would take for me to lose whatever small sense of dignity I’d mustered to come out here tonight.
“Hey,” she said. “How are you?”
Her expression looked genuinely concerned, and for a split second I panicked, assuming Liam had told her the gory details about my day drinking episode. But then I remembered the last time I’d seen her, I’d been in the throes of a panic attack. Still not a moment I wanted to relive. “Good,” I said too brightly. “Just enjoying the music.”
Just enjoying the music?
God, I was lame.
“You?” I added.
“Same.” She was nodding to the same beat I’d been bobbing to earlier. “School kicked my ass this week. I need a break,” she added.
“I didn’t know you were in school.”
Liam was still standing there, still not saying a word, and I was still pretending to ignore him. Sophie, at least, wasn’t awkward about it as she nodded. “I just started this semester. Pre-law at Charleston University.”
“Oh my God, that’s incredible.” Now, my enthusiasm was genuine.
Sophie blushed. “Thanks. I was accepted last year but couldn’t swing the tuition. Liam gifted me his GI Bill so between that and the grants he helped me find, it’s covered.”
“Wow.” Finally, I looked over at Liam, surprised and touched. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”
His dark eyes met mine and there was no possible way I could ignore him any longer. A thousand unspoken things passed between us and none of them had anything to do with the current conversation.
Sophie looked back and forth between us, finally catching on to the tension she’d missed before. “Yeah, I keep telling him he’s my new favorite brother,” she joked. Neither of us answered and she added, “Obviously he’s my only brother.”
She cleared her throat.
Finally, Liam shrugged, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He was still staring at me and when he spoke, I wondered if he’d even heard Sophie’s words at all. “It was no big deal. Anyone else would have done the same.”
When his words finally registered, I shook my head slowly. “No. Not anyone,” I said, thinking of my father and the nights I’d dragged myself to school so I could be what he needed during the day.
Sympathy flashed in his eyes, and I knew he’d guessed what I was thinking.
“Well,” Sophie said, cutting into the silence. “I’m going to get a drink. You two crazy kids have fun.”
Liam’s gaze was still locked on mine as she moved away through the sea of people. “You want to get out of here?”
I exhaled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He took my hand, leading me through the crowd and out the door into the twilight. The air was chillier than it had been an hour ago, and I breathed it in, appreciating the smell of autumn in Summerville. All the while, I braced myself for whatever Liam said next. But he didn’t say a word as he led me to the picnic tables set up next to the taco truck parked at the curb.
