Prove Me Right

by Anna Brooks

  “It’s too late. I can’t do it again. Not anymore.” Her words are frantic, but the distaste behind them is clear. “The one thing I asked, the only thing. And it ruined everything. God, you don’t even know. And I’m not being unreasonable here. I’ve been with you through everything, Lee, everything. I’ve stayed by your side and supported you, but this is the one thing I can’t stand by you for.”

  My breath hitches and stomach clenches as I cry. For the woman I love, for the mistakes I’ve made, for having to choose between the band and Meara. For the blood that runs through my veins making me this way. For damaging everything and not knowing how to fix it. And for knowing this is fucking it. Meara is a fierce woman, and even though she’s kind, she’s not a pushover. She doesn’t give second chances, and she doesn’t lie.

  She sobs along with me and wraps her arms around me tighter. That’s when I know. This is it. She’s letting me go. Saying good-bye. She tries to separate herself from me, but I refuse, squeezing tighter. “If this is the last time I get to hold you, I’m not letting go. I’ll never let you go.”

  “You have to,” she says into my chest.

  My fingertips curl into her soft flesh, grasping for something … anything. “Please don’t make me.”

  “You did this to yourself.” Her body becomes limp in mine, and I do the one thing I never thought I would.

  I press my lips to the top of her head. “I will always love you, Meara.” Then I let her go.

  Chapter 12

  Meara

  I STAND IN MY empty hotel room and stare at the door where Liam just walked out. Every nerve cell in my body pokes and prods at me, telling me to run after him. To forgive him. To give him another chance. But my heart forces my feet to stay planted. My legs don’t get the memo, and I fall to the floor. I inhale a breath, slow and long, trying to gain my bearings, but as soon as I release it, the floodgates open.

  My body heaves and shakes as tears drip into my mouth. He’s gone. I don’t even know what to do. Don’t know how to go on. He’s not dead, but he might as well be. I’m never getting him back. His smile, his touch, his voice. The future we planned. How the hell I’m going to raise a baby on my own?

  “Oh, God.” I cry into the carpet, gripping my hair to force some pain away from the center of my chest. It doesn’t work. Nothing will work. The gaping hole that’s in my heart will remain. It’ll stay there much like a cancer … slowly eating away, until there’s nothing left. But no, I can’t do that. I can’t be weak; I have more than just myself to look out for now.

  “Meara, open the door, honey.”

  It takes me a second to recognize the voice, but when I do, I crawl to the bed and push myself up. I might as well be high because I can hardly see through my bloodshot eyes and my feet wobble with every step. Shaky hands help guide me to the door, and I push the handle down.

  My brother, Declan, steps in and takes one look at me before scooping me up in his arms. I fall into him and let him comfort me while I fail miserably at trying to gain my composure.

  “I was already on my way, but Pierce just called and was worried, too.” He offers words of condolence. “It’ll be all right. You’re okay. Calm down.” And it makes me cry even harder.

  Time is useless to me right now, and I don’t know how much of it has passed, but I eventually stop crying and exhaustion sets in. Dec lays me on the bed and puts a blanket over my body.

  I open my mouth to say something, but he shushes me. “We’ll talk in the morning. Get some sleep.”

  I nod and close my eyes. One last tear falls out of the corner before I succumb to a deep sleep.

  * * *

  “She’s still sleeping. I’ll call you—” Declan’s voice cuts off. He murmurs a word of agreement. “Yes. I know. I’ll figure it out and call you. Yeah. Later.”

  My sore body protests as I sit up and Dec must notice the movement because he turns his head from the little table on the wall in front of the window he’s sitting at.

  “Morning,” he says.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost eleven.”

  I push the covers off and pad to the bathroom. When I look at myself in the mirror, I gasp. Black makeup runs down my face and my eyes are swollen. Only about a quarter of my hair is flat against my head, the rest is sticking straight up as if I were electrocuted.

  On top of looking like shit, I feel like ass. Like I’m more hungover than I ever have been in my life. Jackhammers pound inside my head and a tornado swirls in my stomach. I turn the water on so he won’t hear me throw up. When I’m done, I take a hot shower and finish getting ready. I feel marginally better but still nauseated.

  Before Dec can say anything, I hold up my hand. “You didn’t need to come home for me.” He’s busy, off saving lives, and here I am, feeling sorry for myself. So much so that my family called him to take care of me. I love both my brothers, but Declan and I have always been close. I’m close to both my brothers, really.

  “I wanted to. It’s been a while since I took leave anyway.”

  I accept the juice he offers and sit cross-legged on the bed while he leans on the wall across from me.

  “What happened?”

  One question. Two words. Not hard to answer, but impossible to explain. How can I? Do I even want to? I’ve been close-lipped about everything with everyone. Even Char. I didn’t want to believe it was true. If I didn’t talk about it, it didn't happen. But now that Liam forced me to say it out loud, and now that he’s gone, I guess I should explain to someone.

  Once I kicked him out of my apartment last week, I got a hotel room to avoid him and I went back to work. I have to work. I need to stay busy and avoid the inevitable. If I were able to do that, then it wouldn’t be real. So I reorganized all the paperwork in the office. Re-did the payroll system and negotiated lower delivery rates for four vendors. I ignored his calls and texts. Slammed the door in his face. Pretended he didn’t exist, pretended that night didn’t exist. My family tried to get me to talk about it, but I refused. Now, though. I don’t think I can.

  “I went to see him in Chicago.”

  Declan’s eye twitches, and I know he already knows what I’m going to say. He doesn’t respond but nods, so I continue.

  “I know you all know about the last time he overdosed, and I told him if he didn’t go to rehab and stay sober I was done. And I meant it, so last week after the show, I found him in his dressing room. I’m assuming it was coke, but who knows what the hell he’s been using.” I comb my fingers through my hair getting the knots out. Plus, I don’t want to look at Dec, so I’m focusing on something else. “Then I ran. I took the train. I took it as far as it would let me. Then I grabbed a cab. Honestly, I don't even remember where it dropped me off. I remember falling down and hurting my arm. I think I gave up at that point.” I shrug and risk a glance at him. He’ll be angry with me for being so stupid. Especially if he finds out about the baby. I’m not ready to tell anyone about that yet. It’s bad enough that Jamie knows, but I called him and begged him not to tell. He agreed and said it wasn’t his secret to tell.

  “I’m not even going to tell you how pissed off I am that you risked your safety taking a train by yourself from Chicago in the middle of the fucking night.”

  I nod, agreeing. It was stupid, but in my defense, my brain wasn’t working.

  “What do you want me to do? How can I help you?”

  This is one of the biggest reasons I love Declan so damn much. He doesn’t rag on Liam ... to my face, at least. I’m sure inside he hates him for hurting me.

  “Nothing. Go back to work. I got this.”

  “Meara, what do you want me to do?” This time, he asks softer.

  A shuddering breath passes between my lips, and I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m so confused.”

  “Let’s get you home. This isn’t helping.” He gestures around the hotel. “You need to get back to your life.”

  “I’ve worked,” I snap.

&nbs
p; “You locked yourself in the office.”

  “Work needed to be done. I had a shit ton of paperwork to do.”

  “Okay, but you have an apartment. You need to go back to it and live again. I’m not gonna sit here and sugarcoat things for you.”

  A smile tugs on my lips and I roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “It’s gonna suck. You guys have a lifelong history. Are you sure you’re done?”

  I refuse to say the words, so I give a sharp nod in agreement.

  “Well, the next few months, or however long it’s gonna take for you to get over him are going to be hard. But you cannot go from sitting alone in a hotel room to sitting alone in an office.”

  “I know … it’s just …”

  “What?”

  “Memories of him surround me in my apartment. Everywhere I turn, I see him.” In the bed, rubbing my back. In the shower with the water running down his tall body. Pictures of us on my wall. A shot glass he got me from one of his tour stops. His clothes in the dresser. Everything, everywhere.

  “So get rid of the shit.” He says it like it’ll be easy. Erasing a lifetime of memories is impossible.

  “I can’t. Not yet.” I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.

  “Want me to?”

  I study him. Maybe I should have Declan go and remove everything. All those memories, the good times, because there were no bad. “No. I’ll do it eventually.”

  Declan helps me pack up my stuff and he follows me back to my apartment. I hug him at my door, and once inside, I unpack my shit. I can’t run away anymore. I left my apartment because it hurt too fucking much to be here. But now that I’ve talked to Liam, now that it’s out in the open, I can’t continue to dwell on it.

  Who am I fucking kidding?

  I walk down to the storage room and grab some empty boxes then carry them back upstairs. Pictures, his clothes, gifts, his soap, his favorite coffee mug—I pack up anything and everything that reminds me of him. Each time I rip the packing tape across a box, I cry. I wish it were that easy for me. To just put the memories in a box and hide them.

  I make six trips downstairs to the basement of the building and stack the boxes. Back in my apartment, I grab my favorite fruity bottled drink and hop up on the counter.

  Everything is bare. I hop down and walk in slow circles around the place. I move the two pictures I have left. One of them is my parents and brothers and me. It was taken at Declan’s graduation from boot camp. It’s an old shot but one of my favorites. The other is of Char and me at her wedding. I smile at my cousin and slide the frame further away from the other, giving the illusion of less space on the shelf than there really is.

  I grab a couple of pictures off my fridge. One of baby Caroline and another of my parents and me. I prop them on the shelf and place my hands on my hips.

  No, I need another one. You’re supposed to have an odd number of things on your shelves. I squat down and grab one of my many photo albums. On the first page, it’s Liam and me. Three years old, ice cream dripping down our faces.

  Fuck.

  I slam it shut and open another. First page. Liam again. Except, this time, he’s alone on his drum set. He’s playing at our eighth-grade graduation.

  Dammit.

  The next one. First fucking page. Second page. Last page. It’s all Liam. I shove them back in the storage containers then sit on the end of my bed. How do I even begin to go on? He was my entire life. Maybe I needed him so much it wasn’t healthy. Can you love someone too much? Rely on them for your happiness to a fault? Is it possible to die of heartache? Because that’s how I feel. Like I’m dying.

  The betrayal I feel right now is so far removed from any emotion I’ve ever felt that I don’t even know what to do. He promised me he’d stop. Never once since I’ve known him has he broken a promise to me. Except now. And I can’t forgive him. What if he’s high with the baby and he passes out or something? I can’t risk it.

  I need to get the hell out of here. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back yet. I grab my purse and decide to take a walk today. I need to do whatever I can to clear my head, and people say walking helps.

  My breath comes out in short pants as I walk down to the lake. Once I get to the rock, I hop up and pull out my smokes, then realize I can’t smoke right now. Instead, I sit back and close my eyes, letting the sounds calm me for the first time since I walked into that dressing room. Footsteps sound on my left side, and I turn my head to see my cousin.

  “Hey, bitch.”

  “I never thought I’d be happy to hear you say that.” Charlotte climbs up on the rock next to me and leans over to give me a hug.

  “He’s using again,” I blurt out, staring at the crests of the waves as they crash into the rocks.

  She sucks in a breath through her nose and I hear her swallow a couple of times. “Meara, I’m … shit that’s ...”

  “I know. What am I supposed to do? I feel like if I stay with him then I’d be enabling him. But then I feel like I’m betraying him by not sticking by his side.”

  “Sweetie, I don’t know. I think if it was just a one-time deal and a mistake, I can see staying. But I saw what happened to you the last time, and honestly, I understand where you’re coming from.”

  “What about when it’s not just me anymore, though?”

  She pulls her lips in a flat line. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter 13

  Liam

  “NO. WALK AWAY, LIAM.” Pierce stands outside the pub with his arms crossed, shaking his head at me.

  “I just want to see her one more time. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” The last time I talked to her was at the hotel yesterday. I’ve gotta go back for the fucking band. This whole time I’ve been praying, and I’ve never done that before. I begged God to bring her back to me, to let her see how sorry I was and how much I wish it didn’t happen. I promised to quit drinking and using because I need her more than I need anything else.

  “No.”

  “Please, Pierce. Please. Just let me see her. I at least want to say good-bye. I need it.”

  “Lee, man. You can’t force her to talk to you.” He’s sympathetic, but there’s also guilt in his tone.

  “You’re one of my best friends. I’m fucking begging you. Let me see her. If anything, I just need to say good-bye.”

  A crowd of girls walks up behind me, and I pull the brim of my hat lower and keep my back to them while Pierce cards them. Once their voices are gone, I turn back around. I’m not crazy famous by any stretch of the imagination, but if there is a fan here or someone I went to high school with, they’d want to talk. And I don’t want to right now. I don’t want to fucking talk to anybody but my girl, and she wants absolutely nothing to do with me.

  “It’s the middle of her shift. The best I can tell you is I’ll let her take the trash out tonight.”

  I nod and start to walk away, but he calls my name. I’ve avoided him like a pussy since he threw me out of her apartment. Afraid to admit to one of my best friends, one of the guys who’s always been there for me, that I’m a weak bitch. A fucking addict. I haven’t had anything since that night, and my body reminds me of it. Chills, cold sweats, puking my fucking guts out. But I’d live with that every day if it meant that she still loved me.

  When I look over my shoulder, only a split second goes by before he lands a right hook to my jaw, then follows it with a punch to my gut. I force myself to look him in the eye, even though I feel like I’m about to puke and my jaw is throbbing so hard I feel my brain pulsing.

  “Get some fucking help, man.” I deserved that. I deserve so much more than he gave me. He should have kept going and left me for dead.

  * * *

  The brick wall is cold against my back and when the door squeaks, I don’t move. If she knows I’m out here, she’ll probably go back inside. I’ve been sitting here for hours debating what to say to her. I write songs for a living; words a
re my life. But nothing sounds right. Everything seems like an excuse and I hate that.

  She throws a bag in the large dumpster and turns to walk inside.

  “Ahh!” She screams when she sees me, and I slowly stand, wiping the gravel off my jeans.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What happened to your face?” She rushes toward me and places her soft hand on my jaw.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  When her eyes meet mine, she quickly pulls her hand away and steps back. “What do you want?”

  “To say good-bye.”

  “You’re going back?” She sounds shocked, and a tiny part of me hopes it’s because she wants me to stay.

  I swallow and the sound echoes in the quiet alley. “Yes. I have to. The record label will sue me if I don’t. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  She freezes. “I hope you get the help you need, Liam. And not for me, but for yourself and the other people who care about you.”

  “Flight’s at ten in the morning. But once this tour is over, I’m coming back for you. I’ll never give up fighting for you.”

  She pulls the door open and walks inside. Before it slams, I hear her response. “Prove it.”

  * * *

  I didn’t sleep last night. At all. When Meara walked away from me, I went back to my mom’s house and emptied a couple of bottles of her liquor. I normally drink vodka, but she only had about a quarter of a bottle, so I finished off the whiskey, too. Then I puked it up a half an hour later. My body was clearly pissed I was torturing it.

  As I rested my head on the toilet, I promised myself that was it. That was the last time I touched a drop. I’m fucking embarrassed at the man I’ve become and pissed off that I allowed myself to succumb to my addiction. After I was in the hospital a few years ago and the band had to take a two-month hiatus because I was in rehab, I swore it was my last time then, too. I promised Meara. But she was still there then. She’s gone now, though, so I’m not sure where that leaves me.