Chapter Fifteen
Kayla hadn’t slept much after Liam had left. She was too worried, and sort of vaguely irritated in a way she couldn’t work through. She wasn’t mad at Liam for leaving. He’d done the right thing. So maybe she was mad at Aiden. Or at a family who had somehow decided Liam had to solve all their problems.
Which wasn’t fair. She didn’t know much about his family, even if she knew Liam himself.
Fair or not, right or not, it was a simmering irritation in the back of her head as she drove from the donut place where she’d picked up some breakfast to Liam’s house.
He’d said to call, but she didn’t want to talk to him on the phone. She wanted to talk to him face to face and hear what had happened.
Maybe it was needy or insecure, but she needed some reassurance that this wasn’t . . . Well, this also probably wasn’t fair, but she was over worrying about fair for everyone but herself. This whole bravery thing meant not just saying what she wanted or going after it, but working toward it.
She pulled up in front of Liam’s house. It was six thirty and his truck was parked at the curb, so he should be home. He might be sleeping, considering he’d left her place in the middle of the night, but if she knew Liam, he was probably awake and getting ready for work.
No matter how few hours he’d slept, no matter how much he’d helped his brother, he would consider it necessary to get up and work and make sure his dad didn’t worry.
It was such an odd thing to be so impressed by that, but also a little irritated by it. Didn’t he ever think to take care of himself?
Well, maybe that would just be her job. No one had ever let her take care of them before, and she liked taking care of Liam. It made her feel good.
She marched up to the front door, box of donuts in hand, and knocked firmly.
She waited. And waited. And waited. Maybe he was asleep. Or in the shower. Or maybe he’d gotten a ride from his father or something.
She should have called. This was stupid, inserting herself where she didn’t belong.
Then the door opened and she exhaled.
“Hey.” His voice was weird, more like a rasped whisper, and he had a baseball cap pulled low on his head, which was shading most of his face.
“Hi, I brought donuts. I thought you could use a sugary breakfast after last night.”
His mouth curved, and that’s when she noticed how puffy his lower lip looked, and the cut that definitely had not been there a few hours ago. “What happened to your lip?”
“Oh, that.” He lifted a finger to his mouth, then angled his head down so the hat shielded her view of him almost completely.
She shied away from jumping to her own conclusions. Surely it was something innocuous. But he didn’t explain either, or move to let her in.
Maybe a better person would have turned around and gone, but she didn’t want to be a better person right this second. She reached up and yanked the hat off his head, and maybe it was overdramatic, but she gasped.
His cheek was visibly bruised and looked swollen. She reached out to touch his face, under the mark. “Liam.”
“It’s nothing. Really. A split lip. A bruise. I’ve had worse.”
“How did it happen?” she demanded, and he finally met her gaze, everything about him looking exhausted and just . . . beaten.
“It’s not important.”
Rage propelled her forward. She nudged him out of the way so she could step inside. She dropped the box of donuts on an end table and marched into the kitchen.
“Not important,” she muttered angrily as she wrenched open his freezer. He’d been hurt. Hurt. This man she lo—Well, she wasn’t letting herself think like that quite yet, but Liam was important to her and it was physically painful that he’d been hurt and was saying it wasn’t important.
She rummaged around until she found a frozen bag of vegetables. That would work. Then she marched back out to the living room where he was slowly closing the door. She pointed at his recliner.
“Sit.”
“Kay—”
“Sit.”
He huffed out a breath but crossed to the chair and sank into it. “I have to get to work,” he grumbled irritably.
“You should have put ice on this,” she replied, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. She studied his bruise then. As carefully and slowly as she could, she pressed the bag to his cheek. He winced a little bit, but she slid into his lap, holding the bag of frozen carrots to his cheek.
He looked at her with that baffled expression she was learning to recognize even if she didn’t always know where it came from.
“Now,” she said, mustering all her firm determination, “tell me what happened.”
He shifted a little underneath her, his arm coming around her waist and resting there. He didn’t move his head from the bag, but his gaze slid away from hers. “It’s not—”
“If you say it’s not important, I will not be held responsible for my actions, Liam Patrick.”
He sighed. “Aiden and I got into it a little bit. I shouldn’t have . ..” He shifted again, but he held on to her as if to keep her in his lap. “He was pushing my buttons, and I lashed out. I know better.”
“So you and Aiden got in an actual fight?”
“Um . . . Yes. It was a crappy mistake, Kay. I shouldn’t have let him get to me that way. I threw the first punch. It was my mistake.”
She gently touched his lip where it was puffy and split. “You both threw punches.”
“Well, yes, but it never should have happened. I should have kept my cool. I knew what he was trying to do, and he succeeded. Mom heard us and came out and took Aiden inside and . . . Well, anyway. It’s over. I won’t be falling into that trap again, let me tell you.”
“What did your mom do after she took Aiden inside?” Kayla asked, her stomach sinking sickly at what she suspected. But surely . . .
Liam shrugged ineffectively. “They went inside.”
“What about you?”
“I went home.”
“But . . . Walk me through this. I don’t understand. You both fought? Because you hit him and he hit you?”
“Yes.”
“But when your mom came outside, she only took Aiden in?”
“He was the one on the ground.”
“Was he hurt worse than you?”
“I . . . I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I have a house to go back to and—”
“And she ushered one of her children inside and did what with you? Ask if you were okay? Offer you some ice? Anything?”
“She . . . shut the door.”
“Liam! That is . . . That is cruel. And unacceptable.”
“Aiden—”
“I don’t give a shit about Aiden. Her sons, both of them her sons, got in a fight and she chose one to take care of? Well, that is bullshit, Liam. Bull. Shit. How dare she?”
“He needs—”
“What about what you need, for heaven’s sake?” She cupped the side of his face she wasn’t holding the quickly thawing bag of carrots to. “What about you?”
He blinked at her as if she spoke some foreign language. Did he not . . . Did he never think about himself when it came to his family? It filled her with anger on his behalf and unease at what she was doing here, but she focused on the anger because this was utter crap.
She’d always assumed because Liam and his family had a relationship, they had to be a better, more loving family than the Gallaghers. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“Kayla.” He let out a breath, still looking at her in that baffled way, something like shock and reverence mixed in too. “I love you.”
Kayla was sure her heart stopped. She knew her breathing had. He’d said . . . love, and not in any flippant, teasing sort of way. No, he was grave, so grave, and looking her right in the eye. She couldn’t seem to breathe or move or respond.
Love. Love.
“What?” she breathed, stupidly.
“I know it’s a little . . . soon, and I don’t expect you to be there yet, but I’m not exactly a wishy-washy guy. I could probably talk myself out of it for a little bit longer, but what would be the point? I love you, Kayla. No one in my life has ever tried to take care of me, and even if someone’s tried, I never would have let them, but when it’s you? Hell, it’s everything I want.”
“Liam.” Her throat was all closed up and she couldn’t seem to get it to work to tell him all she was feeling.
“It’s a lot and it’s quick. Take some time—”
“I love you, too,” she interrupted, trying to blink back the tears in her eyes.
He opened his mouth and she knew, just knew, he was going to say something about letting her take time or whatever other crap excuses, so she kept talking. “Don’t you dare try to argue with me. I know what I feel, and it is love. I’ve never . . . No one has ever made me feel comfortable enough to be myself.”
“You decided to do that. That doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“It has some to do with you. Yes, I made a decision to change, but . . . Sometimes people come into your life who help you go down that path you need to go down, or give you a little nudge when you’re learning a lesson that needs to be learned. Part of this change in my life is you, and I’m glad.”
She laid the thawing bag of carrots down, rubbing her cold, damp hand up and down his leg to warm it up before she used it to cup his face. To look into those beautiful blue eyes and brush a light kiss over his poor swollen mouth.
“I love you,” she said, with all of the courage that she’d decided to have, and all the courage Liam had given her.
He leaned forward, kissing a tear that had trailed halfway down her cheek. And then he pulled her so that she was leaning against him, curled against his shoulder, still sitting in his lap.
She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, basking in this big, complex emotion between them, but Kayla knew it was a memory she’d always cherish.
* * *
A week passed and Liam didn’t try to go home. He saw his dad at work, and Dad didn’t mention anything about Aiden. Liam figured he was too focused on the stent surgery to worry about his sons being dipshits.
Every night, he either spent with Kayla at her place, or she was at his. She’d taken a short temp job while she waited to hear back about her job interview at the orchard, and since her hours were shorter than his, she usually made him dinner or breakfast.
She painted Dinah’s birthday present, and they went together to Dinah’s birthday dinner. Kayla came with him for the Gallagher & Ivy Farmers’ Market and charmed people into buying all manner of things.
It ate at him that he didn’t know what was going on with Mom or Aiden, but Kayla was always telling him it was for the best. If he went over and checked on them, he’d get sucked into something that wasn’t his business.
She was right. He tried to tell himself she was right. He tried to focus on being in love with someone, on that someone not just taking care of him, but clearly enjoying it. He tried to focus on building a foundation with this amazing woman who so often put him first.
It was like another world, and it was nowhere near comfortable. But for Kayla? He’d drown in discomfort.
Still, he was glad he had a little extra to work on with Patrick & Son Patch-ups, even if he hated Dad’s upcoming stent surgery being the reason. It was good to be in his own head and make sure he thought he was on the right path.
Kayla waiting for him convinced him it was every time.
Liam loaded up his truck and hated the way a day without Dad reminded him of those months after the heart attack. The fear and the nerves. The loneliness of carrying all this on his back and the pressure of making sure he did as good of a job.
And yet the thing that was different this time, aside from the pre-worry, was that he could go to Kayla’s tonight and she’d talk to him and make him feel better. She couldn’t make him forget, but she eased things a little bit, like magic.
But maybe that was just love and shit.
Buoyed by the prospect of a meal with Kayla, Liam was smiling as he started his truck. His phone chimed and he pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the text.
Mom: Please come over.
He stared at the text for the longest time. He knew Kayla wouldn’t approve, and maybe she was right. Maybe he needed to make himself less available to his family so they understood he wasn’t the fix to everything.
But there was this . . . thing inside of him. Something like a compulsion. How did you just not help your family?
He responded to Mom, then brought up a text to Kayla. He winced a little as he wrote the lie. Working a little late. Will call when I’m on my way.
He’d tell her the truth when he got to her place. It would be better to tell her in person, and who knew what it was about? Maybe Mom just wanted to see him.
You could have asked why she did.
He ignored the voice in his head and drove toward his parents’ house. Dad’s surgery was tomorrow. Maybe Mom wanted everyone together even though Dad had all but forbidden any family gathering.
Dad wanted to dwell in his worry and fear alone, and Liam couldn’t blame him for that, but this was hard on Mom, too. It was hard and scary for all of them.
He parked in front of his parents’ house, steeling himself to be strong. Strong enough not to fall into any Aiden traps of getting pissed, and strong enough to avoid manipulation. If he could help make Mom feel better, he would. If he couldn’t, well, he’d have to live with that too.
Mom came out of the house, closing the door behind her. She looked pale and worn and he knew this surgery was weighing heavily on her. Mostly, Liam surmised, because Dad was threatening to give up if it didn’t work.
There was nothing wrong with being here or comforting her. There was nothing wrong about giving to his family. Kayla would understand that in the wake of everything that was going on.
“Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”
She shook her head, hugging her arms around herself. “No.” She sniffled. Clearly she’d already been crying, though she wasn’t at the moment. “I’m worried, Liam. I’m so worried.”
“I know, Mom. But we have to try to be positive and just hang in there.” He pulled his mother into a hug, hoping to infuse some physical strength into her. “Worrying about what might happen after isn’t going to do us any good.”
Mom’s brows drew together as she pulled away from him. “After what?”
“After the surgery.”
“I wasn’t . . . I’m not talking about your father. I mean, I’m worried, don’t get me wrong, but we’ve done this before and he has an excellent doctor. I’ll be a mess tomorrow, but Aiden is who I’m sick over right now.”
Liam could not believe his ears. Couldn’t begin to comprehend . . . “What?”
“Liam, this week has been awful. Just awful. I think he’s been doing drugs. And I’m worried he might hurt himself. He’s so depressed. So low.”
Liam stepped away completely, though part of him still wanted to hug her, still wanted to offer help. There was still this part of him certain that if he helped enough . . . He didn’t let himself finish that thought. “Maybe he needs professional help.”
“I tried to suggest it, but . . .” She looked away, biting her lip as she wrung her hands together. “Listen, I think if we can get him to a better place, we can convince him to see a therapist, but right now? He’s so worked up about this Kayla Gallagher thing.”
Liam did his best to stomp out his temper before it started to bubble. “There is no Kayla Gallagher thing.”
“Well, Aiden did have his eye on her fir—”
“I have to go.” He had to stand up for himself when it came to this. He wouldn’t be manipulated into thinking he’d done something wrong or that he’d somehow stolen something. He and Kayla loved each other.
“No, please, baby.” Mom grabbed his hand, and he could have easily tugged out of her grip, but that seemed wrong. She was upset. Maybe it wasn’t right or fair that she was more worried about Aiden than anyone else, but Aiden was still her kid. Even if Liam was too.
“I know this isn’t fair. I know it. But can’t you just break up with that girl? Even for a little while? I know Aiden isn’t thinking straight, but he’s just certain you’ve stolen her from him. I know that’s not how women or the world work, but . . . I’m so afraid, Liam.”
“You want me to break up with Kayla because Aiden thinks . . . I’m sorry, how does that help?”
“He’s just so down. You don’t understand. I’ve never seen him like this. He thinks you have everything, and he’s worthless.” A sob escaped Mom’s lips. “I can’t lose all of you. What if he hurts himself, and something happens to your father, and you aren’t talking to me?”
“Mom.”
“Please.” She grabbed his hands, tears streaming down her face. “Please, I’ll never ask anything of you again. I’m so scared for him. Just . . . Just break things off with her for a bit. Until we can convince Aiden to get some help.”
“And if we never convince him?”
Mom started sobbing in earnest. “Don’t say that, Liam. Don’t say it can’t be fixed.”
It broke him, piece by piece, to see his mother openly cry. She was always emotional about movies or books or causes, but she rarely got overly emotional about real things. She kept that in check, and Dad did too, and it was hard to watch her be so broken by something he could fix.
By breaking up with Kayla.
It was ludicrous. Ridiculous. The exact kind of thing Kayla was talking about when she said his family had unreasonable expectations of him.
But his mother was sobbing, begging, and . . . What would Liam do if Aiden did hurt himself? Even if he wasn’t at fault? Even if this really had nothing to do with Kayla, how did he . . . How did he let his brother self-destruct?
“I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say to you right now,” Liam forced out, his voice a pained whisper into a beautiful spring evening.
“Could you just tell me you’ll consider it? Please?” She squeezed his hands in hers, looking up at him with hope and desperation in her gaze, and Liam didn’t know how to say no. Not to her. Not to himself. “I can’t stand the thought of him hurting himself, Liam. I can’t stand it. I’ve tried so hard to love him, to give him everything, and no matter what I do . . . Where did I go so wrong with him, when you’re so good?”
Liam reversed their hands so he was holding hers now. He gave a squeeze. “I’ll see what I can do, all right?”
Mom’s entire face brightened, and she let out another squeaky sob before flinging her arms around him. “Oh, Liam. Thank you. Thank you. I know you can fix this. I know it.”
He wasn’t sure how long those words would haunt him, but he knew they would.