Page 41 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
For a moment, we just stood there, caught in the aftermath of a storm neither of us saw coming.
“I hate you,” I say, but my words lack the venom I want them to carry.
His lips quirk in a humorless smile, his voice gravelly as he responds, “Good. The feeling is mutual.”
Brushing his lips on mine again, he whispers. “I hate how much I still want you.”
My eyes flutter open, meeting his stormy gaze. I push away from him, my heart still racing, and glare at him as I take a step back. “This doesn’t change anything.”
"Stay away from me, Hazel," he mutters.
"Same goes to you, Liam," I shoot back.
He walks away first, but I know it is not over. It never really is.
Chapter twelve
Liam
Icannot sleep.
The night is still, the kind of quiet that amplifies every thought. I am lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word from our argument earlier. I do not know why; the image of Decker giving her his card makes me angry, and I am angry that it’s making me angry. And the kiss…
Damn it, the kiss.
It should not have happened. I should not have let it happen. But the moment she opened her mouth and started firing off her usual brand of infuriating “What’s it to you?” I could not think straight. She is maddening. Impossible.
Frustration. Anger. Guilt. And something else I refuse to name burns through me.
She is like a damn splinter under my skin. No matter how much I try to push her out of my mind, she is still there, irritating, impossible to ignore, even after all this time.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I grab it, desperate for any distraction. But it’s just an email from work. I toss it backdown and let out a heavy sigh. My house feels suffocating, too quiet, and too loud all at once.
The sharp trill of my phone breaks through again. I glance at the screen. Mom. I groan, debating whether to let it ring out, but I know she will just keep calling. Resigned, I swiped to answer.
“Hello, mom.”
“Liam, finally! Do you know how hard it is to get a hold of you?” Her voice is sharp, layered with just enough irritation to remind me why I do not answer half the time.
“I’ve been busy,” I reply, leaning back against the couch.
“Too busy to call your mother?” She snaps.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your father.”
Of course, it is.
“What did he do now?”
“He is impossible - completely unreasonable! Can’t he just let it go? We have been together for years, and yet…, why can’t he just let us resolve this like we always do?”
I cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear, tuning her out and trying to block out the mounting frustration in my chest as she launches into a tirade about some minor disagreement. Something about alimony, or was it the house?
I pick at a loose thread on my couch cushion as her words blur into background noise. Divorce was never pretty, but my parents are making it an Olympic sport.
“Are you even listening to me?” She snaps suddenly, jolting me back to attention.
