“What have you done all your life in situations regarding relationships?” I ask, trying a different tactic.
His answer is immediate. “Ran. As fast and as far away as possible.”
“So all of a sudden, you’re faced with this new relationship and there’s trouble. What’s the only thing you know how to do? The only thing your experience in life has taught you?”
It’s adorable the way he blinks once, and in the fraction of a second it takes him to do that, I watch the lightbulb go on. “Run.”
“Were you what you needed by doing that?” I ask the question again.
His chest rises to the max I think it can inflate, and then the breath slowly expels from him. “Yeah,” he finally responds with a nod. “It was… safe. It made sense to me. You wouldn’t lose your brother, and I would hopefully be able to patch things up with my best friend, and things would go back to the way they were. Eventually.”
“You do realize that was never going to happen, right?” I chuckle.
It’s Liam’s turn to roll his eyes. “It wasn’t clear in the moment, but yeah, I figured it out pretty quick. You know, I really don’t like being a grumpy ass, but there I was, day in and day out.”
“Not you!” I gasp mockingly then laugh. “If it makes you feel better, I ate my weight in nachos and watched Dirty Dancing so many times Quinn made fun of me for it.”
We both chuckle, our laughter waking Tosha enough that she stands up on the couch, shakes herself off, turns three times, and falls back to the cushion with a contented sigh. I know she’s not mine, she’s Liam’s, but it’s almost like everything is suddenly right in her world. Then again, she’s probably felt every ounce of tension Liam’s put himself through the last ten days, and now that it’s lifting, she’s finally able to relax.
Liam’s hands slip from mine to rub up and down my sides. It pulls me from my thoughts of Tosha, back to him, and I offer a loving smile, leaning in to give him a short but sweet kiss.
“Can we agree that we’re both sorry?” I ask him.
“Definitely,” he nods. “I’d also like to promise that I’m nevergoing to run again.”
“I don’t need that promise,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I just need you to talk to me if you feel like running again. Or tell Nate. Talk to someone. Quinn or Brody. A therapist. I don’t care. And if you still run after that, promise me you won’t take so long to come running back.”
Liam smiles that panty-dropping, half smile-half smirk that makes me melt. “I promise.” He pauses for a second and then adds, “Know what else I promise?”
I shake my head, anticipation blooming in my chest.
“I promise we will have a very healthy sex life. I promise an infinite amount of orgasms. But most of all,” he says, leaning in until his lips are just a breadth away from mine. “I promise to love you for as long as you’ll let me.”
“Forever. I’ll let you forever.”
Epilogue
Liam
Nine Months Later…
Jordanwasmeantforme. This is the woman I’m going to spend forever with. Have I proposed? Nope. Do I have a ring? Nope. Do I have plans on getting one? Again, nope. Not anytime soon. But do I know that I’m not letting her go? Absolutely. There is no piece of me, big or small, that wants to live a single day without her by my side.
Could we one day get married? Sure. It’s a possibility. Am I going to count on it? Nope. For a guy who swore he’d be a bachelor his entire life, the fact that I’m in a relationship is outstanding. And given that it’s my first one, I’d say I’m doing pretty good. Of course I’m not without my ups and downs. Jordan would say we are not without them, but nine months in, and she’s more perfect every single day. We both know the ups and downs are me. All me.
A lot of that had to do with dealing with my mom. That shit was a lot to unpack after twenty-plus years, especially with the revelation that she was a drug user and had been for most of my life.
Those first few days after the incident in the hospital with her were eye opening. My dad confessed to me he’d kicked her out after coming home one day to find her high as a kite. I guess it wasn’tthe first time, but he’d made sure it was the last. He’d given her numerous chances; told her she needed to clean up her act because he wasn’t going to tolerate it around his son. It was the drugs, or us.
Unfortunately, the drugs won. He admitted a lot of the heartache I saw him go through was because he didn’t know if he’d made the right choice—not for himself, but for me. Fuck. I always knew he’d tried his best growing up, but I had no idea how deep it went.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed at him for not telling me. I was, and I spent a lot of hours on a fucking couch in a therapist’s office working that shit out.
I owe that to Jordan. She urged me to go. I fought against it at first, wanting to just talk to her or Nate about things, but she convinced me that someone outside of the situation would offer aspects neither of them could. They were too close to both my dad and the situation with my mom. Turns out, she was right. While she always took my side when I had a bout of anger towards either one of them, the therapist I ended up talking to dug deeper to look at what I was really feeling. What was really triggering me to be upset.
It was never what I thought it would be. A lot of times it was what I would have considered stupid shit prior to talking to the therapist. A memory of my mom boiling the hot dogs for my lunch instead of putting them in the oven like I liked. My dad missing a football game in high school, even though he made it to most. Or spending so many nights at work to keep us afloat, that I missed out on him being there with me.
I mean, I know why my mom wasn’t at those things, but turns out just because I knew she wouldn’t be there didn’t mean it hurt less. And as for my dad, he was working. Surviving. Still trying tokeep a roof over my head and give me everything I needed in order to succeed. Yet I held it against him all these years without even realizing it.
