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I got out of the shower, dried off, and dressed. Tria wasn’t in the bedroom, so I headed downstairs and made my way to the kitchen. I could hear both Tria and Chelsea’s voices before I reached the doorway, so I paused before I just barged right in.
They were sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen with mugs of coffee and little cheesy Danish pastries on a plate in front of them. I could tell just by the tone of their voices that they were talking about me, so I continued to hover in the doorway and quietly eavesdrop.
“He told me what happened,” Tria was saying, “but I don’t understand why no one went to get him and take him home. He was just a kid.”
Chelsea nodded her head a few times and gripped the mug with her fingertips.
“He was completely inconsolable,” Chelsea said. “Douglass understood why Liam was angry with him, but I don’t think any of us realized just how much he blamed his father—and Julianne, too—for what happened. He shut us all out. He wouldn’t speak to anyone, even Ryan. Then, on the day of the funeral, he just…disappeared.”
“He said Aimee’s mother wouldn’t let him go to the service,” Tria said.
“The poor woman was a wreck, just like he was. If they could have found solace in each other, maybe things would have been different.”
“How so?” Tria asked.
“He pushed everyone away,”
Chelsea said. “First mentally, then physically. We couldn’t find him for weeks and weeks. No one had any idea where he had gone. He had just turned eighteen that summer, and even with Douglass’s connections, the police would only do so much. When they eventually found and talked to him, it was clear Liam left of his own volition, and he didn’t want to come home. Legally he was an adult, and they couldn’t force him to leave where he was. There was nothing they could do to help us.”
“I hired a private investigator,” Michael said from the other side of the kitchen. “Four of them, actually. I found out where he was and what he had been doing—”
“He was shooting up,” Tria interjected.
“I was sure he was going to kill himself,” my uncle said quietly. “I wanted him committed, but all anyone was willing to do was have him arrested for possession. It might have gotten him off the streets temporarily, but with his temper…Well, I didn’t think he’d do well in jail.”
He took in a long breath.
“All I could do was have him watched,” Michael said. “We would lose him every once in a while over the next few months and then have to track him down again. He was so bad off—living in a burned-down warehouse with a bunch of other junkies and prostitutes—I was actually considering just having him kidnapped and hauling him off to the Caribbean. Maybe I should have. I was getting kind of desperate and running out of ideas when that fighter-woman took him in. She got him sober, at least.”
“Yolanda,” Tria said with a nod.
“She probably saved his life,” Michael said. He took another step toward the breakfast island, and he spotted me. “He needed someone who would be strong for him. Once he was clean, he would at least talk to Ryan and me. I refused to give up completely though he didn’t make it easy.”
“Ryan wouldn’t give up either,” Chelsea continued, but she hadn’t noticed me. “He kept finding Liam in worse and worse shape, but Liam wouldn’t come home. When he took Douglass to talk him into coming home, Liam hit him and ran off. It was clear he was going to stop what little contact he had with his uncle and cousin if we kept pushing him.”
“I didn’t want you there.” I spoke up from the doorway. “You were all just reminders, and I didn’t need to be reminded of that shit.”
Chelsea turned to look at me and narrowed her eyes a bit, and I sighed.
“Stuff,” I corrected.
I looked at Tria and tried to tell her with my eyes to stop it—just leave it alone. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t, not completely, but I had to try. I couldn’t take any more right now.
“We’re your family, Liam,” Michael reminded me.
“You said you never gave up on me.” I turned my head and stared into his dark eyes. “Why not?”
“The earrings,” he said without hesitation.
“Earrings?” I reached instinctively to the two silver hoops in my left ear.
“I knew as long as you were wearing them, there was still a chance.”
I was never one to admit my uncle was right, but deep inside, I knew he was.
Chapter 9—Start the Healing
The next few days were odd, to say the least. Tria sat with me and amended my list, including going back to the old apartment building and getting my shit from Katie, taking Tria to the clinic, and finding a new place to live. Michael had made it clear that we weren’t only welcome at his house, but he expected us to stay there until Tria started her next semester of school in the fall. I didn’t like it, but with the three of them ganging up on me about logistics and shit, I couldn’t win.
