Wounded

by Abby Brooks

  “Nice.” Liam folds his arms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger but he takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself down. “We don’t need to fight dirty. Not us. We’re better than that.”

  I roll my eyes. “What does that even mean?”

  There’s a voice whispering in the back of my mind, telling me to calm down and take a beat. To stop being mad so I can listen to what he has to say. That voice wants me to apologize for getting upset and to take his hands in mine and tell him I’ll go to LA with him, that I’ll go anywhere with him. Because it’s starting to feel like wherever he is, is home.

  But I don’t feel like listening to that voice. That voice sounds weak when I need to be strong, and damn it, I promised myself I’d never be anything but strong. When Michael started being difficult, skipping class and drinking, and getting into more and more trouble, I wanted to crumble and cry but I couldn’t. I had to be strong to get us through, and I am not going back to the girl I was. It sucks to be weak and afraid.

  “I’m just trying to protect you, Bailey.” Liam’s nostrils flare as he leans forward. “You have no idea what kind of bullshit is about to erupt in your backyard. My fans are—”

  I hold up my hands, interrupting him. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I’m pretty good at it all by myself, thank you very much.”

  Liam studies me for a long time. “You know what I see? I see a woman who’s so afraid of letting go of her past that she just digs in her heels and refuses to let anything change. A woman who is so afraid of the pain in her heart, she isolates herself and walks away from the people who want to help. You think you’re being strong? Bullshit. You’re broken and hurting and are too stubborn to admit it. You’re stuck in this house, frozen in time, unable to move on because that would mean you’d finally have to man up and face all the shit that happened to you.”

  My jaw drops. My eyes fill with tears. My heart stutters and my stomach plummets and a tiny voice inside me whispers that he’s right.

  I stand, the tile squealing in protest as my chair scrapes back. Without a word, I stomp into the bathroom as I tap out a text to Lexi to let her know I’ll meet her at Smitty’s in an hour before I power down my phone and bury it at the bottom of my purse.

  LIAM

  Bailey comes out of the bathroom looking absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. “Where are you going?” I ask.

  She doesn’t look at me. “Out.”

  “Out?” There’s no way she really wants to leave. Not now. Not when we’re in the middle of a fight. I stand, folding my arms over my chest, ready to call her bluff.

  “Yes, Liam. Out.” Bailey grabs her purse and digs through it.

  “Looking like that?”

  “Like what?” She glares up at me.

  Like an angel. Like a goddess. Like everything. “Like you’re about to fuck any random douche with a dick?”

  Bailey’s jaw drops, pain filling her eyes. “Fuck you,” she whispers, her voice quaking.

  “Really, Bailey? Do you really need to go there?” I stand as my stomach drops into my feet. “I thought you were better than this.”

  She stares at me for a long time, her eyes growing hard and distant. “So did I.” She leaves, slamming the door so hard the windows rattle, leaving me standing there, seething.

  The clock on the microwave says it’s just after seven. The flight I reserved for us doesn’t leave until after midnight. I laugh at myself, staring after her like an ass in the middle of her kitchen. It sounds cold. And wrong. And out of place.

  Kind of like me.

  This is not at all how I thought the night would go. I imagined her getting excited about the trip, wrapping her arms around my neck and telling me how romantic it all was. I thought she’d be happy.

  Maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought I did.

  I consider calling a cab and meeting her at the bar. But going to Smitty’s now is a terrible idea. We’re both still angry and the inevitable confrontation will only draw more attention to the two of us. The last thing she needs is to have more people connect the dots between me and her.

  I consider waiting here for her to come home, but that will only make me mad, each hour that ticks by on the clock fueling the fire in my gut.

  I consider going to sleep and waiting to talk to her in the morning but there’s no chance in hell I’m sleeping tonight. Not with this huge rift between us. Not without her tucked in close to my body, my arm wrapped around her waist, my breath moving in her hair.

  That only leaves one answer. I’ll be taking that flight myself.

  I head back into the guest room and stare at all the stuff hanging in the closet. At first, I’m irritated because I don’t have anything to pack it in, but then I realize that none of it is really mine. It’s all just part of an elaborate costume I wore for the last couple months, stuff Bailey and Brent picked out for me. I spend a few minutes trying to feel mad and self-righteous about it all, except I like who I’ve been in these clothes. I think, maybe, living here with Bailey, I’ve finally found out what kind of man I want to be. I think I’m starting to understand who I really am.

  And yet, as much as I want to stay and tell Bailey how much I love her, and fix whatever just happened between us, I have to leave. I have to draw my fans away from her, from this house, from our life. She’s not designed to handle the kind of attention that’s about to descend on us. Hell, I’m not designed to handle that kind of attention either, I’ve just gotten used to it.

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket and tap out a text to Bailey.

  Me: I have to go. I have to take care of this before things get worse. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you.

  There’s so much more that needs to be said, but not like this. Not over text. I need to understand what I did that made her so angry and we need to have a real conversation, but that’s going to have to wait until I get to LA. Right now, a plan is starting to form. The tiniest little scraps of an idea are blazing into awareness in the back of my head. I don’t even think it will take that long to get things taken care of.

  And so, when the cab comes crunching up the driveway, I climb into the back carrying nothing but my phone and my tablet. As the driver backs out towards the road, I stare at the front porch and let out a long breath. This is the only place I remember ever being truly happy and I’ll be back, damn it. Soon. I nod once, and stare at my phone, waiting for a response from Bailey.

  BAILEY

  “Alright. Spill it. What happened?” Lexi raises an eyebrow and purses her lips.

  “He’s a fucking asshole, that’s what.”

  She frowns. “Liam? I thought he was God’s way of making up to you for the last eight years. What with the cooking and cleaning and all the crazy good sex.”

  “Yeah. Well. Turns out life’s a bitch.” I tell Lexi what happened, expecting her to look appropriately appalled. Imagine my surprise when she doesn’t.

  “So, he planned a surprise vacation and you’re mad?” She looks genuinely confused.

  “No. That’s not it. He caught some girl sneaking around the house and has to go back to LA for whatever and he just told me I was going with him. No options. No consideration. He just made a decision without talking to me first.”

  “Because he couldn’t stand the thought of being without you.”

  “No! Because he’s an asshole on a power trip who thinks he can just wave his money around and get his way.” I take a sip of my margarita, but it tastes awful.

  Lexi shakes her head. “I hate to say it, Bay. But it sounds more like you’re being a bitch than anything.”

  I squint at her, horrified. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you have any idea what happens when his fans find him? You don’t, do you? It’s insanity. There’s no way you’re prepared to have that circus hanging out in your front yard.”

  “Yeah, but there was only one girl.” Wouldn’t you know it, one of his songs blares over the speakers at Smitty’s. I fight the urge to plug my
ears.

  Lexi sighs. “You are so out of touch it amazes me. That one girl is only the start. She’ll bring three friends who will bring three friends who will bring three more friends. And they’ll tear down your front door to get to him.” She shakes her head, looking incredibly disappointed in me. “He had to leave. And he wanted you to go with him and you told him to fuck off because he wanted to pay for it.”

  “When you put it that way it sounds awful.”

  “That’s because it is awful. This was not one of your most shining moments.”

  “What about my job?” I slide my margarita out of the way and lean forward. “I can’t just up and leave.”

  “So, what? You pass up on the opportunity of a lifetime instead? Because of some job?”

  “Okay, so tell me. What happens after I go with him, lose my job because of it, and he decides that he’s done with me? What then? I’d be screwed, that’s what.” Liam’s voice croons over the speakers and even though I hate this song, it feels like coming home.

  “And what if he doesn’t?” Lexi purses her cherry-red lips.

  “Doesn’t what?”

  “Doesn’t decide he’s done, you idiot? What if Liam is your forever? Your one and only?” Lexi takes a sip of her beer and waits for that to sink in.

  I shake my head. “It’s too soon to know anything like that.”

  “Is it? Can you even imagine your life without him?”

  I sit back and drag my margarita close to me. Pick at the salt on the rim and chew on the straw. The truth is I can’t. Not only do I not want to imagine a life without him, but when I try, he just keeps popping back up with that stupid smile of his all over his face.

  Lexi points a finger at me. “Exactly.”

  “I didn’t even say anything!” I can’t help but laugh. “You say that like you’re some kind of psychic or relationship guru or something.”

  Lexi wrinkles her nose. “Nah. I’m just the one person in this world who knows you better than you know yourself.”

  “I really was a bitch, wasn’t I?” I drop my head in my hands.

  “If you were half as bad as you described, you were pretty awful.”

  The urge to get home is so strong I start to fidget. “Lexi…?”

  She waves her hands in a shooing motion. “Go on. Go to him. Apologize. Have maniacal makeup sex. Just promise to name one of your babies after me.”

  “Right. Because I totally see babies in our future.” I stand, hug my friend, and practically run to the truck, suddenly desperate to get home so I can tell Liam just how sorry I am.

  BAILEY

  The house is empty when I get home. Liam’s gone. His clothes are still in the closet, but his iPad is missing. There’s no note, and as much as I want to think that his clothes hanging neatly in Michael’s old room are a sign that he’ll be back any minute, something tells me he’s gone for good. I dig my phone out of the bottom of my purse and power it back on. Of course, there’s a text from Liam. That’s the whole reason I turned my phone off in the first place. I didn’t want to deal with him while I was out with Lexi.

  I drop onto his bed as I read his text.

  Liam: I have to go. I have to take care of this before things get worse. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you.

  He left? I press a hand to my belly, my fingers and lips tingling, and read his text over and over, trying to find more information, desperate to understand how we got here. He says he’ll be back soon, but what does that mean? And for how long? Just when he was starting to feel like the most stable thing in my life, he does this. Upending everything, leaving on a moment’s notice. Changing everything before I even have a chance to get used to the idea.

  I start to text him, and when none of the words come out right, I give up and call him. The longer it takes for him to answer, the deeper the sense of dread pulls me down. By the time I get sent to voicemail, anxiety churns through me, skitters across my skin like electricity over sheet metal.

  “Liam.” I say his name like a prayer. “I’m so sorry. I was a total bitch. Please come home.” I pause, wondering what else I can say when there aren’t enough words to express what I’m feeling. “I love you,” I finish lamely. “Call me.”

  And then I hang up. Change my clothes. Go through all the rituals that lead up to sleep. And lay down to watch my ceiling until the sun comes up. We had one fight that wasn’t even really a fight. Was that really a good reason for him to leave without saying goodbye? With no more explanation than three worthless statements? Was I fooling myself into believing there was more between us than there really was? For me, Liam is everything I ever wanted and never knew I needed all wrapped up into a love that feels bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced. I thought he felt the same. Was I wrong?

  I don’t hear anything from him until late the next morning when my phone buzzes and I leap out of bed to grab it.

  Liam: I’m here in LA. We need to talk, but not now. I love you, B. Home as soon as I can.

  We need to talk. My poor exhausted brain zooms in on that one sentence and it echoes through me, beating itself against my bones like a bat trapped in the attic.

  Me: When will you be home?

  Liam: When I can. Love you.

  It’s not enough. I need more. I can’t live in ambiguity. I need a clear-cut path. But I don’t say any of that because I don’t want to push him for more when I was the one who pushed him away in the first place.

  Me: I love you, too.

  I hit send and stare at my phone, hoping for a reply that never comes.

  The next three weeks are awful. His texts come less and less frequently until finally, my calls and texts go unanswered and I stop even bothering to reach out. I struggle through long days and longer nights, living in some weird limbo where I constantly half-expect him to walk through the door and swoop me into his arms and kiss me until I can’t breathe.

  I don’t cry.

  I don’t grieve.

  I just wait.

  Because I believe in what we have. Liam and I? We’re not done. There’s no way we’re over. There are years stretching out in front of us still. I know he’ll be back in the same way I know I love him. It’s a truth akin to gravity. The only way to fight it is to leave this world entirely and neither one of us is doing that anytime soon. We might have a lot to work through when he finally comes back to me, because let’s face it, each and every minute that goes by without him reaching out just adds to the hurt and anger building up in my heart. But we will get through it. Why? Because I’m stubborn enough to make sure we do.

  And then, while checking on a particularly sweet older woman recovering from a broken foot, I see him.

  And that’s when it all falls apart.

  “You see that man up on the TV?” asks the woman, pointing towards the flat screen on the wall, her hand trembling with age.

  I glance at the thing and my heart sinks into my stomach. My knees go weak and I clutch at the side rail on her bed to keep from falling over.

  “Can you believe he was here in this very hospital?” she asks, incredulous. “He’s some kind of singer, I think. My great granddaughter has his posters all over her room.”

  Without bothering to ask her if she minds, I turn up the volume and watch as Liam flashes that awful branded smile of his. He’s getting out of a limo, cameras going off like strobe lights, questions flying, all while he smiles and waves like none of it bothers him in the least. Like he didn’t spend night after night talking about how much he hated being some other version of himself all the time.

  The reporter on screen finally gets his attention, shoving a microphone into Liam’s face. “Liam! Where have you been?”

  Liam smiles into the camera, tilting his chin so the scar trailing down his cheek is more visible. “I was hiding out, giving this baby time to heal.” He runs his finger down his face and drops a wink into the camera.

  “And what about the tour? Any chance you’ll pick up where you left off?”


  Liam shrugs. “All things in good time, you know?” He blows a kiss at someone off-screen and hordes of girls and women hidden behind the cameraman scream and squeal, chanting his name like he’s their messiah.

  Liam starts walking away, but the reporter keeps pace with him, not ready to end the interview. “And what about the rumors of a mystery woman out in Ohio? Has someone finally stolen Liam McGuire’s heart?”

  Fear grabs me, its steely fingers a vice grip on my spine. I pop a finger into my mouth and chew on the nail, needing his response in the same way an addict needs her next hit.

  “Are you a fan?” the woman behind me asks, her tremulous voice distracting me from Liam’s answer.

  I turn, pulling my finger from my mouth and lifting my eyebrows. “I’m sorry, what?” The TV tries to steal my attention, but I tune it out. “A fan?” I shake my head. “No. Not at all.”

  At least not of this version of him.

  Onscreen, the interview is over and I give my attention back to the TV just in time to see Liam walking away, turning to wave and smile before he disappears through a door. I finish the day on auto-pilot, focusing on getting through it without breaking down, and drive home without even turning on the radio. The house is dark when I push through the front door, dishes piled in the sink in the kitchen. I dig through the fridge even though I’m not hungry. Turn on the TV even though there’s nothing I want to watch.

  And then finally, when I’ve done everything I possibly can to distract myself, I climb into bed, curl up with his pillow, and wait for the tears. Seeing him on TV today, falling into his old life like a bad habit, it made me realize that Liam’s not coming back. It’s time for me to grieve what I thought we had, pull all the pieces of him out of my heart, and move on.

  The pillowcase smells like him and I breathe it in, remembering night after night of him rolling over to smile at me, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine. It took so long for me to let him into this room. Once I did, I regretted all the weeks we slept apart. The last time I felt as safe as I did with his body wrapped around mine was years ago, when I was still young enough for my mom to sing me to sleep.