Push

32. She Read the Note

GWEN

A smile was pasted on my face. The smokescreen that hid my nerves. When someone declared they needed to tell you something, it was never good news.

I shouldn't have been surprised. I hadn't heard any good news in a long time. The last few months were hit after hit, and just when I thought I could stop to catch my breath, another blow landed to skittle me off kilter all over again.

What now? What was left? I'd already been through hell, hadn't I?

The accident. The kiss—no, the affair, because that was what really happened between Toby and Kayleigh, even if they didn't end up in bed together. Ian. Noah starting daycare. Work.

Actually, scratch work. As much as Liam's pedantic escapades annoyed the crap out of me, having my old neighbor in my life somehow felt... right.

Liam's eyes were on me everywhere. Not creepy. Protective. I dropped off a client agreement at a bar one afternoon, and just as I turned to leave, the client's face broke out in a sleazy grin, and he darted out a hand. I bet that balding bastard was going to smack my ass. Guys like him always tried.

He never got the chance, though.

His glare like ice, Liam's hand shot from nowhere, his fingers curling, twisting, around the man's fat wrist. The client sobbed his apologies, but Liam tore the client agreement down the middle anyway. We left. Not another word was spoken.

When I rounded the corner to the living room with Noah hanging off my hip like a sniffly koala, the sight of Liam in a stand-off with Toby was no surprise. I heard the words he spat out—that was a surprise—but the reason for Liam's protectiveness was still a mystery.

More than once, when my eyes tracked the ceiling fan circling above me when sleep never came, I'd sifted through my childhood memories of what must have happened all those years ago. Liam was always outside. Always. I left him sandwiches—peanut butter cut into triangles—and, once, when the weather turned cold, an old jumper with a hole in it. I was giddy with smiles for a whole week because he wore it. When the cops came knocking to ask about the robbery two doors down, I said I didn't see anything, even though I saw him quietly slip out the door the night before. Was that why? One of those moments?

Maybe it didn't matter. It should be enough to know someone else was looking out for me. Not just Marnie. Or Toby... If Toby still was.

He'd barely glanced at me since Liam walked out the front door. His knuckles were white when he lifted the duffel on the island, but he hesitated before dropping the strap and falling back. Whatever was happening was serious.

I tried lightening the mood Toby style. "You got a bomb in that bag?" I joked.

All the color drained from his face. "Basically." He looked like he was about to puke his guts up.

No more jokes. The one thread of resilience holding me together was fraying, but I needed to do this right. I needed to listen and not let my mouth shoot out all the conclusions I was jumping to in my mind.

I stuck my foot out and dragged the highchair closer. By the time Noah was safely strapped in his seat and smacking the tray with his chubby hands, Toby had a peeled banana and a bowl of yogurt waiting. He didn't bother handing over a spoon. Noah never used one. Fists were tastier.

"What do you need to tell me?" I asked Toby. Calm. No emotion. So far, so good.

He took a deep breath. "Kayleigh's following me."

I wasn't sure what I expected Toby to say, but it wasn't that. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. Ball my fists and hit a pillow until I collapsed on the floor. I wanted Kayleigh gone. Out of our lives forever. Toby was mine. I almost kept my face neutral, but the frown was impossible to hide.