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Ethan’s on the edge of the room, watching Mick dance while sipping on a beer. Liam sidles up to him, and they start chatting while I bop my way to Mikayla’s side. She jumps up and hugs me when I’m near, and then we start moving to the beat.
It’s fun to let loose. I love this music, letting it carry me away, moving my body in sync with Mikayla’s. We make each other laugh and belt out lyrics when we know them. My voice is hoarse after only two songs, but this is the best.
Spinning around, I look for Liam, getting ready to drag him into the dance space with me when I see he’s on the phone. His eyebrows dip into a sharp V, and I wish I could read lips.
Or maybe I don’t need to read them.
Maybe I just know that whatever he’s hearing right now is freaking him out, because his face has gone the color of whipped cream.
I move off the floor, wrestling my way through bodies as I try to reach him as fast as I can.
CHAPTER 36
LIAM
I can barely hear Mama over the music, but I can tell from her tears that this is bad. My immediate thought is that Dad’s been on a rampage again, but her tears have a different quality to them this time. Even over the thumping music, I can tell she’s not panicked but more… distraught.
“He’s in the hospital.”
“Who?”
“Your father.” She sobs. “Liam, he’s dying.”
The words sink into me, slow and heavy. Or maybe like a toxic gas.
I don’t know what to feel as I inch my way outside, bumping into bodies and trying to swivel around them.
Dad’s dying.
Mama’s weeping.
And I can’t feel anything.
As soon as I step outside, I move to a quiet spot around the corner and rest my head back against the outside of the house.
Mama’s talking in Spanish now. “He just dropped to the ground, so I called an ambulance and?—”
“What were you even doing with him?”
She huffs. “Liam, your father is very sick!”
Closing my eyes, I feel sick myself, bile surging in my stomach as I know what she’s going to ask me next.
A soft hand lands on my arm, and I glance up. One look at Rachel’s worried frown nearly does me in. She’s so beautiful and kind, and she’s been a total trooper as she’s put up with my sullen mood the last few days. I’ve hated myself for it, but I can’t seem to shake off this heavy, ugly feeling either.
Ever since Dad came knocking on my door, I’ve been restless, and now…
“You need to come see him, mijo. We’re at St. Bart’s. Fourth floor.” The rest of her words fade as my stomach twists into a knot so tight, I wonder if I’m going to throw up.
Rachel’s still staring at me, her long fingers squeezing my shoulder as she mouths, “What’s wrong?”
She’s looking really worried, and I have to tell her. But I can’t just hang up on Mama in this state either.
In Spanish, I gently reply, “It’s okay, Mama. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hate those words coming out of my mouth, but what the fuck else am I supposed to say? She needs me. So I’ll go.
Hanging up with a heavy sigh, I pull Rachel into my arms and bury my head in the crook of her neck.
