She’d spent sixteen years of her life comparing every man she met to the fantasy Liam of her memories—forever an exuberant young football quarterback with sparkling green eyes and swoonworthy dimples, as attractive on the inside as the outside. But this current-day Liam had only improved with age, despite the disability he was forced to live with. And their incredible, toe-curling kiss had only teased her with a taste of what might have been.
If she had to see his face, repulsed by the reality of her appearance, something inside her would die forever... and that something was hope. Already, it was hanging by a thread.
“If I may be so bold,” Fordham said, “the young man appears to be quite taken with you. Perhaps your revelation won’t have the earth-shattering effect you seem to fear.”
“You’re so sweet, Fordham.” She patted his arm. “Bran is lucky to have you.”
“My disposition is one of many attributes Branson finds useful.” Fordham tucked his chin down, his brows lifting. “But if the desired talent were changing the subject, you would have my job in an instant.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Carly.” Bran deftly shuffled the slick playing cards, which appeared completely normal, except for the raised braille identifications on the card faces. “I’ve been wanting to play Euchre, and thankfully, Fordham volunteered to be our fourth.”
“Volunteering seemed the prudent choice when the alternative was being fired.” Fordham took a sip of his herbal tea.
“Stop trying to make me look bad, Fordham.” Bran chuckled as he dealt the cards in groups of twos and threes. “Might as well admit you love playing cards.”
“I’ll admit Carly and I will enjoy beating you and Liam at a round of Euchre.” Fordham sent Carly a wink across the round game table. She’d chosen him as a partner, thinking he would be the least likely to be upset if she messed up and made them lose the game. But it sounded like Fordham was more competitive than she’d thought.
“I don’t know why I ever invite you to play,” Bran shook his head, dealing the rest of the cards and flipping one face-up on the leftover stack. “Every time you win—”
“Which is every time we play,” Fordham interjected.
“You don’t win every game. It only feels like you win every time because you lord it over me for months afterward.”
“With me as your partner, you shouldn’t be bragging, Fordham.” Carly picked up her hand and stared at her cards, straining to remember the rules of this strange new game, where the jack of the trump suit was higher than the ace. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You’ll catch on fast,” Liam said, “since you know how to play spades. I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”
At the tender encouragement in Liam’s voice, she glanced in his direction. Big mistake. His mesmerizing emerald eyes caught her gaze and held it, warming her from the inside out. Coughing, she looked away, her cheeks burning.
As Liam reiterated the rules, his close proximity made it all but impossible to think about anything but the kiss they’d shared. Yet she didn’t dare flirt with him, especially with Fordham and Bran present. The result would be even more pressure to tell Liam who she was, and she hadn’t worked up the courage yet.
I promised Fordham and Bran I would tell Liam the truth. But how am I going to break it to him?
The timing was terrible, with the anniversary of the accident tomorrow. He’d come here because he’d known Bran would keep him busy, so he wouldn’t have to relive the past. Her revelation would only stir up old feelings of hurt and loss. For her, it might be cathartic to confess her part at last—the selfish lie she’d told that fateful night, when the truth might’ve changed everything. But for him, it could only be painful.
She shouldn’t have let him kiss her. After all, he’d asked her permission. She could’ve said no.
Yeah, right. No chance I could’ve turned him down unless I was dead. Or at least unconscious.
There was only one way she could hide her feelings—she had to spike up her competitive spirit. “I don’t have to be great at it… all that matters is that I’m better than you.”
Laughing, Liam raised his hands in front of his face like she’d hurled a rock at him. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”
“Yep.” Carly popped her P. “There’s no such thing as friendly competition.”
She wasn’t faking it. Though she usually tried not to reveal her relentless drive to win, she hated losing at anything. She’d once felt a kinship with Liam in that respect, back when he was a fiercely competitive high school football player.
“In that case, prepare to be obliterated.” Liam’s eyes twinkled. The poor guy was blissfully unsuspecting of her impending revelation. It would hurt him, no matter how she explained it. “Because I’ve been practicing since I played here the first time.”
“You’ve been playing on Phantom All Cards?” Branson snagged a grape from a small bowl on the table and popped it in his mouth. Carly was more tempted by the bowl of M&Ms.
“I have.” Liam’s voice revealed genuine enthusiasm. “It’s an amazing website. There’s always someone to play with, twenty-four-seven.”
“There should be,” Bran said, lifting his chin. “We went over a million users all over the world the first month it was out. And what’s nice is it’s completely accessible, so able-bodied people compete with hearing and sight-challenged players, and they don’t even know the difference.”
“Please block me from joining that site,” said Carly. “I’ll never get my doctorate finished.”
“The point is, I was going to go easy on you, Carly.” Liam’s eyebrows danced. “But now, I’m going to destroy you.”
If only he knew how much he had already destroyed her. She’d had a school-girl crush on him for the past sixteen years. But meeting him again had only confirmed her feelings. Liam was an amazing guy. One she could never have.
One I’ll never deserve.
“We show no mercy. Take no prisoners.” Bran arched his hand across the table and Liam obliged with a fist bump.
“To the death,” Liam confirmed with a sharp nod.
“I’m quaking in my boots.” His words laden with sarcasm, Fordham looked toward the ceiling like he was praying for patience.
“You don’t even own a pair of boots, Fordham,” Bran said.
“Nor am I quaking in them.” Fordham gave Branson a flat stare.
“I can’t see you, Fordham,” Bran said, his mouth curving playfully.
“Obviously, my stare is so strong that you can feel it,” said Fordham. “Carly, my esteemed partner, you must go first in this round, and decide if you want the trump to be clubs. If so, remember that as the dealer, Branson gets to pick up that card he turned over.”
