Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) (20 page)

“Right,” Robert said without hesitating, which made Liam want to kiss him with gratitude. No, not kiss him—shake his hand.

Marianne grabbed a paper towel and started scooping up the fallen rice. “Well, my mind’s pure blown, Robert. You seemed really mad about all those girlfriends. I guess you’re a good actor.”

“I was mad about them.” Robert shifted his weight a little. “I’m bisexual.”

She jerked up her head, her eyes wide with glee. “Really? That’s fantastic! Means I’ve still got a chance.”

Robert sighed. “Mare, you know if you were anyone else’s sister—”

“I’m only messing. God, you two are so paranoid.” She handed the plastic bag to Liam. “You do the rest. My burger’s getting cold.” Then she sat at the table again and resumed eating as if a bomb hadn’t just been dropped in the center of the kitchen. “Liam, did you record last night’s
Strictly
? I missed it.”

“Erm, yeah.” He looked at Robert, not meeting his eyes. “All right if we watch that?”

“Sure. I’m away home after dinner, though.” He rotated his shoulder. “Really want to get back to
Dragon Age
.”

Brilliant
, Liam thought as he turned back to the worktop to spoon out the curry and what was left of the rice. That was their night over, then. Probably for the best.

The three of them sat on the sagging brown sofa with Marianne in the middle.
Strictly Come Dancing
was good for a laugh, except during former footballer Mark Wright’s tango, which was so intense it gave Liam a pain in his chest. He hoped the feeling was merely heartburn from the curry and not heart
break
at the thought of never, ever holding Robert again.

His mate left after the first hour, avoiding Liam’s eyes as they shared a quick goodbye. After shutting the door between them, Liam leaned against it for a moment, feeling dizzy with despair.

If only it were mere lust standing in the way of their friendship. But when he’d stood in this kitchen holding Robert’s hand, it hadn’t made him
hard
. Just the opposite, in fact. Something inside Liam had melted like candle wax, something that had been too solid, too brittle, for far too long.

He fetched himself another serving of curry, spying the shin guards he’d borrowed yesterday from Evan still sitting beside the sink—a reminder to give them a thorough cleaning before returning them to his former captain. Usually Liam would have removed the pads on the bench, but he’d been so eager to get away from that pitch—from Robert—he’d accidentally worn them all the way home.

As Liam returned to the living room, Marianne paused the show and said, “I’m not stupid.”

He froze for a moment, then plopped down beside her, trying to look casual. “You sure about that?”

“Robert’s bisexual and you’re giving him a massage? How is that innocent?”

Liam shrugged as he stuffed a hunk of chicken into his mouth. “There’s nothing between us.” He felt Marianne’s glare burning a hole in the side of his head. “Anymore,” he added.

His sister was silent for a moment, hugging the wee sofa pillow to her chest. “Who broke it off?”

Liam remembered sitting naked on Robert’s bed, calling their relationship’s time of death. “I did. Now, can we watch—”

“No!” She slammed the pillow into the side of his head. His bowl went flying from his hands, spilling curry across the arm of the sofa and onto the floor.

“Fuck’s sake, Mare!” He dropped to his knees to collect his dinner. “This was expensive.”

“Robert paid for it, didn’t he? And he didn’t even take any with him.” She smacked him harder with the pillow.

He grabbed it out of her hand and flung it aside. “Stop it, ya cow! Are you raging cos you’re jealous?

“I’m raging cos you’re an eejit.” She pointed at the front door. “Robert McKenzie is the best man you’ll ever meet.”

“I know that.”

“Then why let him go?”

“Because I’ll have to one day anyway, when he gets a job and moves.” Liam shoved the remains of his dinner back into the bowl, hoping the five-second rule of floor-food contamination was really more like thirty seconds. “I’d rather do it now before we get attached.”

“You couldn’t be more attached if you were stapled together. Why not enjoy it while you can?”

Liam shook his head. “A teenager like you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Fuck off!” Marianne grabbed the other sofa pillow and hit him with it. “I cannae wait until I’m twenty so you’ll stop saying that.”

“I might wait until you’re forty.” Liam wiped the curry sauce off the couch, as much as he could, then sat beside his sister again.

They were silent for several moments, Marianne clutching the edge of the glass coffee table with her stockinged toes. “I’m not jealous,” she said finally. “I don’t fancy Robert anymore. I just pretend to cos it’s fun.”

“Okay.” Liam took a tentative bite of his curry, hoping his floor wasn’t infected with salmonella.

“You know…” She tapped the remote control against her chin. “If you two were together, he could be part of the family forever. Like if you married?”

Liam coughed out a bit of rice. “He can be part of the family even if we’re just mates. The way it’s always been.”

“I don’t get men. How can you be with someone in that way and think it changes nothing?”

Liam shrugged. “Makes life easier.”

“I bet it does.” She got up to collect the pillow she’d tossed. “Did Robert really want to take me home when youse were weans?”

“Aye,” he said, wishing she’d turn the show back on. “He’d saved up a few quid, so I tried to convince Ma to let him buy you. I told her if we were rid of you, then maybe Da would come back.”

Marianne gave him a sharp look, already blinking back tears. “You did not.”

“I did. I thought it was your fault he left.”

“It was never my fault.” She sank onto the sofa beside him and swept the long blond hair from her face. “But it was
because
of me. Because I existed.”

“Maybe he was feart he’d get another kid like me.” Sometimes Liam felt sorry for Marianne having never met their father, but at other times he thought her the luckier one. She never had to see the places where Da used to be—his favorite spot on the sofa, the chair beside Liam’s bed where he’d read stories aloud—and see the lack of him. “But the real reason he left is cos he wasn’t good enough to be your da.”

She smiled with just the left side of her mouth. “Would you recognize him now, like if he came to one of your matches?”

“It doesn’t matter.
He
doesn’t matter. We’re both over sixteen, so we need never worry about his nonexistent child-maintenance payments again.”

“True.” She pushed play to restart the dance competition.

When
Strictly
was over, Liam and Marianne channel-surfed, taking the piss out of bad Sunday-night television. At nine p.m. he switched off the heat to save fuel, so they made tea and huddled together under a double layer of blankets as the wind blew harder against the window.

Finally, near the end of a bad zombie film from the seventies, Marianne laid a sleepy head on Liam’s shoulder. “You know what?” she said softly.

“Hm?” he asked, tensing at her serious tone. Perhaps she was about to lecture him on getting back together with Robert, or make a plea for Liam never to leave her alone to look after the rest of their family.

But Marianne just yawned and said, “Your bathroom’s cleaner than I thought it’d be.”

= = =

Liam neither saw nor heard from Robert all week. Each text he sent received a perfunctory reply, one that usually turned the topic back to football. Since Liam had been suspended from the next match, he couldn’t attend training session, per Charlotte’s strict policy.

Saturday night found him at Lord Andrew’s posh flat, where Colin had been staying during his convalescence, going on two months now. Like all the Warriors, Liam and Robert visited Colin as often as they could. Andrew was a gracious host and a fantastic cook, though he did sometimes get under Liam’s skin.

“John told me the Warriors looked fantastic today,” Andrew said over his shoulder, raising his voice above the sizzling pan in front of him.

Standing in the adjacent dining area of the wide-open reception room, Liam grimaced and kept his eyes on the tropical fish in the toff’s salt-water aquarium. “I heard that too.”

Liam had planned to attend the match he’d been suspended from but couldn’t turn down the chance to add a day shift at the pub. Besides, the thought of seeing Robert sent his nerves off the charts.

 
“It’s surprising how solid the Warriors were in your absence,” Andrew continued. “I thought they’d collapse at the back without you, but Robert and Fergus were apparently a very capable pairing.”

“Leave it, all right?” Colin snapped at Andrew. “Sorry,” he told Liam as he joined him near the aquarium.

“It’s all right,” Liam said. “He doesn’t mean to rub it in.”

“Aye, he does. ‘A gentleman is never unintentionally rude.’ That’s one of Andrew’s rules to live by.” Colin lowered his voice so his boyfriend couldn’t hear. “I’m embroidering it on a pillow for him.”

Liam snickered, then sobered when he saw Colin’s face. “Really? Needlepoint?”

“I get bored sitting about watching Netflix all day. The painkillers make me sleepy, and the antibiotics make me want to boak my guts out, so I need a mindless task.”

“I thought you were on the mend.”

“I am, but it’s a long journey.” Colin sipped his tea, which was an unnatural shade of green. “Ooh—want to see my scars?” He lifted the hem of his shirt without waiting for an answer. “They’re not so repulsive anymore.”

If you say so.
Liam bent over to study the war-zone map of surgical incisions crisscrossing Colin’s torso. “Do they hurt?”

“Not unless they get infected, like if I try to do too much too soon. Learned that the hard way. Warm compresses were my best friend for a wee while.”

“Are you flashing another man under my nose, love?” Andrew called out over the hum of the kitchen exhaust fan.

“Comparing scars is a footballing ritual,” Colin told his boyfriend. He turned back to Liam. “They’ve taken a lot out, see.” He pointed to various spots as he spoke. “Spleen, gall bladder—turns out you don’t need either of those to live—and about thirty percent of my intestines.” He lowered his shirt and grinned at Liam. “But once I get back to football, I’ll be that much faster, with less weight to carry.”

“I cannae wait for you to leave my arse in the dirt again at training session.” Liam’s throat tightened as he remembered how his friend’s speed had almost proven lethal. If Colin weren’t so fast, Liam and Robert might have caught up to him that day. They might have kept him from being so brave and stupid.

Liam would never forget arriving on the scene of Colin’s stabbing, seeing a bare-chested Andrew bending over him, trying to stop the bleeding with his shirt, murmuring a string of calm words to keep his boyfriend conscious.

Now, Liam wondered how it would feel to train with Colin again. Would he have the courage to play tough defense against his once-fierce forward? Or would he hold back for fear of hurting him?

He gestured to the black-leather sofa. “Mind if we sit? I’m knackered from work.” Liam wasn’t really tired but thought Colin might be. As the two of them made their way into the living area, Andrew turned up the music and started doing a little shimmying dance while he cooked.

Liam sat beside Colin and spoke in a low voice. “Does Andrew know about me and Robert?”

Colin blinked at him in a poor imitation of a clueless man. “Erm…what about you and Robert?”

“I know you know,” Liam said with a growl, “cos you clyped on me to Rab about our hooking up last year”—he pointed between them—“
and
about me and some of the other Warriors.”

“Ah, so he telt you.” Colin frowned. “Sorry, but I thought he should hear the truth from a mate.”

“
I’m
his mate—his best mate. Or at least I was. After you talked to him, we fell out.”

“Och, really?” Colin’s shoulders slumped. “I should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut.”

“You were trying to help, I get that. You didn’t know he’d be so Victorian about the fact I’ve gone through the squad like a packet of crisps.” He shot a quick look at Colin. “Gourmet crisps, of course.”

“But I did sorta know he’d be that way. The look on Robert’s face when—” Colin wiped his mouth. “Uh-uh. Not making that mistake again.”

“C’mon, mate. You owe me.”

Colin pressed his hands to his temples. “Really need off these painkillers. Cannae think clearly.”

“Colin…”

“Okay!” He dropped his hands. “It was nothing huge, just the look on his face when he talked about you. I could tell he was smitten.”

Liam’s heart seemed to somersault in his chest. This was his worst fear and his greatest hope all in one.

“I didnae want him to build his hopes up,” Colin said. “But it’s not my business. I ruined everything.”

“We ruined it ourselves.” Liam sighed. “I just wish it wouldn’t affect our game. Fergus and Evan were fighting all the time last season, but they put it aside when they stepped onto the pitch.”

“Fergus and Evan were a couple of repressed middle-class poofs. They’d sooner cut off a limb than show bad manners by arguing in front of the team. They were like ice and ice. You and Robert are like fire and fire.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Like me and Andrew.”

“But me and Rab were friends before we were—whatever we were for a week. Shouldn’t that make it easier to get on when we’re playing?”

Colin looked at him like he was mad. “It makes it
harder
. All these years, you’re used to one way of being around each other. Then everything changes. Even that day two weeks ago when you were hooking up and allegedly happy, I could see things were weird. Aye, you got the clean sheet, but there were mistakes. You were both distracted.”

“I know.” Liam slouched against the sofa arm in despair. “That’s why it was stupid for us to hook up in the first place. I wish we could go back to the way we were before.”

“Firstly, you cannae do that. Secondly, do you really want to? Do you really wish it’d never happened?”