He throws his head back and booms out a laugh. I notice my mistake the second his eyes look behind me into the formal dining room. I woke up this morning before Molly to get some paperbacks signed from online orders. I had them all lined up with their invoices neatly tucked into each book. There were, if I remember correctly, twenty-seven individual books lined up on the dining room table, eight more piles of series book orders and that doesn’t even count the piles that I had yet to personalize and tag with their shipping information.
All my books. The secret life that I’ve been able to keep from everyone since Jack had passed away. The part of me that I didn’t share with anyone anymore—exposed.
I close my eyes and wait for the questions. I wait and wait, my eyes clamping tighter with each passing second. When he doesn’t speak I lift my eyes and look where he was standing, only to come up blank. My heart speeds up and a cold like fear seeps through my veins.
Oh, God.
With a deep breath, I turn, and watch in horror as he lifts one of the unsigned books out of a box I had sitting on the floor in the corner. His eyes take in the cover, a simple dark shaded cover with a heart broken in two with ashes falling from the center. Bleeding Love imprinted in a beautiful font that doesn’t quite match the darkness of the cover.
And my pen name, Megan Sands, like a freaking neon sign right there on the front.
He still doesn’t speak, running his fingers over the cover before turning the book and reading the back. I know what he’s reading. I wrote that book when I was at my darkest point. It was the one and only book that I wrote the year that Jack died. In a way, it was the only thing, besides Molly, that kept my head above the water. It was through that book that I was able to find some sort of healing peace with the loss of my husband.
I let my love for Jack bleed out between the loss and redeeming love that the main character, Mia, found when she was faced with a tragic loss of her own husband. I let my mind drift over the plot of Bleeding Love and it isn’t until I think of the name of the hero that my gaze snaps up to Liam’s. How could I have forgotten? Someone up there must be having a field day with my life today.
Mia found her peace with her white knight . . . Liam.
God, shoot me dead now.
Liam, still holding the book, opens his mouth to speak but closes it before his words are formed. I wait, knowing they have to be coming.
I watch in shock as he gently places the book back in the box, letting his fingers linger over where my name is printed, before he walks over to me. His eyes are swirling with questions but he doesn’t voice a single one. He takes my face—his fingers lingering over where I had been held by that douchebag last night—between his hands and bends to place a light kiss against my lips. When he pulls back, his eyes haven’t lost a single ounce of intensity.
“Liam,” I whisper.
“Yeah, baby. We’re going to get there.”
I frown and he leans forward to kiss the crease between my brows.
“A love worth having, is worth fighting for.”
I gasp when I recognize the quote from the back of Bleeding Love and I feel my eyes grow wet.
“Go get changed, darlin’,” he whispers.
As raw as I feel right now, I don’t even fight him. I turn, walk down the hall to my room, and grab an old pair of jeans to pull on with one of my paint tank tops.
Liam doesn’t say anything when I return to where he’s standing. He takes a look at my outfit before giving me a small nod. “Nate’s waiting outside for your keys, grab them for me, babe.”
I mutely dig in my bag and hand over my keys. Liam doesn’t say anything just turns and walks out the front door. I stand there and look around the room and take in all of my books lining the small area. There is no way he doesn’t know they’re my books. How can he not have questions?
“Here, throw this on.” He tosses a Hope Town Police Department hoodie at me and waits for me to listen.
“Isn’t it a little warm for this?” I ask, looking down at the big HTPD block letters across the front.
“You can thank me later,” he oddly responds.
“Uh, right.” I jam my head into the hoodie and feel my pulse race when his scent floods my senses.
After I’m dressed, he waits for me to set the alarm and lock up, leading me back to his truck, opening my door before making his way to the driver’s side.
“Can I get a clue?” I ask meekly.
“Just go with it. Promise me though; if for one second you aren’t having fun, tell me. And darlin’,” he pauses waiting for me to give him my full attention. “Just feel,” he oddly says.
I don’t respond. I keep quiet until we pull into the local paint ball center. He parks in the lot and kills the engine. I take in the building, surrounded by a tall fence and look back to Liam.
“Step one, even when you feel pain you can be having the time of your life. You don’t have to let that pain be the only thing you feel. The fun in paintball is all in the game. Take that pain and remember, it’s only temporary and when you get to the end, the only thing that’s left is some colors on your skin that help you learn how to play the game better.”
“What game?”
“The game of life, darlin’.”
“You make no sense.”
“Like I said, it will make sense soon darlin’, and I can’t wait for you to get it.”