Page 38 of The Design of Goodbye
“Can I touch you?” I asked. “I want to check your heart rate.”
His approval was a jerky nod, but it was all I needed. Carefully, I placed his shaky arm across my lap and pulled up his sleeve. For a few seconds, I ran my fingertips over his wrist in search of his pulse, but I felt nothing. What a bad idea. I wasn’t a doctor; I’d never searched for a pulse before.
But then...either I was making it up, or he was calming down. Was it from my touch? It had to be. His breathing had been erratic, his body trembling before I’d started, and now both were diminishing. As I continued ghosting my fingertips on the underside of his wrist, I tried not to think about how intimate this felt. Or that I was touching Liam Strom—comforting him—because, in this moment, all that mattered was helping him.
Suddenly, he wrenched his arm out of my lap. “Sorry.” He sounded broken. It made my eyes sting.
“You okay?” I asked. He was still breathing heavily but more alert.
A flock of birds flew overhead in a perfect V-shaped formation. Liam watched those birds, captivated, until they disappeared. I waited for him to speak, but he never did. We were going to sit in silence unless I broke it.
“We’re going to my house,” I said.
“Why?”
“We’re studying there from now on.”
“Why?”
I didn’t want to embarrass him more than he already was, so I lied. “I need an infinite supply of pumpkin spice lattes to learn math, and for some reason, the library doesn’t sell coffee.”
Luckily, he didn’t look completely opposed to the idea, just skeptical. “Your parents won’t mind if I’m there?”
Parents. It was shocking how one word could make me feel her loss all over again. The feeling only lasted a few seconds because I expertly pushed it away. But even seconds of that feeling had been too much.
“Of course not. Anyway, my dad’s in Charlevoix, getting a house ready to sell, and won’t be home until late. And,” I added, “I didn’t have coffee this morning. I honestly think I’m detoxing. It’s not going to be a pretty sight soon.”
“Sounds scary.” He pulled his sleeve back down and gripped his elbows.
“It will be,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Then, we better study at your house.”
I let out a quiet, relieved breath because he’d agreed easier than I’d anticipated. I glanced at his bike. “I’ll drive you. I can drop you off after we’re done.”
“No. I can bike.” His face fell. “But I left my stuff.”
“Got it.” I dropped his backpack and jacket on his lap, and he mumbled his thanks as I asked, “What’s in your backpack? It’s so heavy.”
“Everything I need,” he answered. “Can I get directions?”
“Sure.” I pointed to his backpack. “Get your phone, and I’ll give you my address.”
“I don’t have one.”
My mouth fell open. “You don’t have aphone?”
“No.”
“That’s okay,” I said, trying to hide my shock. “You can write it down.” Once he’d grabbed a paper and pen, I started giving him directions, but...he didn’t write anything down. “Uh, Liam?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head, as if desperately trying to rid himself of his thoughts. “Can you start over?”
A lump was in my throat. Whatever those noises in the library had done to him had taken its toll, and it hadn’t been—still wasn’t—easy to watch.
“We don’t have to do this today,” I said. “If you want to go home.”
“I’ll be okay.”
