Prove Me Right

by Anna Brooks

  Luckily, Jamie’s dad, James, stepped up to the plate. Plus, Lee had my dad, but that doesn’t make up for the flesh and blood who’s supposed to be there for you.

  “He doesn’t have anything in here. I already went through the living room and the kitchen, Meara. How did he live like this? There’s nothing personal anywhere. Just the essentials. His drawers aren’t even all used.”

  I’m not sure I really know how to answer that, let alone what to say, so I stay silent. He reaches up high on a shelf in the closet and pulls down a shoebox. When he opens it, a somber smile crosses his handsome face and he hands the picture to me. It’s of Liam and his mom and dad.

  He sits next to me and takes the picture back. “When I was here a few months ago, right before I walked out of the door to leave, he told me not to make the same mistakes he did. I didn’t even realize what he was talking about until you came to say good-bye to me at the airport.”

  “Lee …”

  “I’m so fucked up, Meara. I don’t know if I can be the man that you need or want me to be. I’m trying. I’m fighting myself every day to be a better person, and I’d like to promise you that I’ll never fall off again, but I don’t … I don’t think I can do that. And fuck me, I’m selfish enough to want to lie to you and promise it just so you’ll stay.” Desperation laces through his soft tone, and my throat tightens at his pain.

  “You don’t have to promise me that. Just take it a day at a time.”

  The left side of his lips tilts up. “You sound like Bart.”

  “Well?” I shrug and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “I love you, Meara.”

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  “I leave again tomorrow. But I only have a couple of months left. Then I was going to come back here. I’m not even sure what I’m going to do.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that right now. You can stay with me and figure everything else out when you’re ready.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yup.”

  Liam goes into the basement and I sit on the steps while he rummages through all of his dad’s stuff. His back is to me when he grabs a small baseball mitt off a hook. It flies through the air and crashes into a shelf of nuts and bolts, knocking them to the floor. My entire body jumps but I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him from behind.

  He’s so stiff, his arms braced on the wall in front of him. “I don’t wanna be like him,” he whispers.

  “You’re not,” I quickly assure him.

  “What happens when I have a kid? My dad used to be there. I remember it. It was short lived, but I can remember some good times. How do I know the same fucking thing won’t happen to me?”

  I bite on my lip to prevent the tears that threaten, feeling guilty for keeping the baby from him. But I don’t think right now is the time to tell him. “You’re a good man, Liam. Look at what you’ve been doing. You’ve sobered up over the past two months. You—”

  He turns in my arms and scrubs his hands down his face. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. I don’t want anything.”

  While I follow him out, I grab the baseball mitt and shove it in the back of my jeans. I have the picture in my back pocket, too. He might not want them now, but I bet he will want them in the future.

  I wait for him to lock up by my car and when he comes out, he says he’ll meet me at my place. Panic sets in when I realize he’s going to see my apartment … void of all things Liam.

  Shit.

  I throw the mitt and picture in my glove box and lock my car. We arrive back at my place at the same time and he takes my hand and follows me up the stairs. The bar is still open and the quiet thump of bass and voices filter through the staircase. When we get inside, I take a breath and turn the lights on.

  Chapter 17

  Liam

  AS SOON AS THE lights come on, I notice her place looks different. It takes about four seconds to realize what it is. I shake my head at what a fucking idiot I am.

  “I’m sorry, I was just—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize,” I interrupt her.

  I let go of her hand and walk around, realizing every sign I have been in her life for the past two and a half decades has vanished. This is what it would be like if I continued to be a dipshit. It’s almost as if I’m a ghost, seeing her life without me, and I don’t fucking like it. Then a horrible feeling creeps up my spine and it jolts me so hard I have to grab the couch for support.

  I know I don’t have a right to ask, but I do it anyway. “You brought other men up here?”

  Her jaw drops, and she crosses her arms across her chest. “No. I didn’t bring anyone up here.”

  “Good.” I don’t know how, but through the jealousy and possessiveness I get at the thought of another man touching her, my dick gets hard. It’s difficult not to, just looking at her. She has her natural dark hair again and I swear she got more beautiful in the past two months. I walk into the kitchen, and she steps back until she hits the counter. I unbutton her pants and tug at the zipper. “Is this okay?”

  She licks her lips and sways toward me. “Yes.”

  I pull the denim and her thong down to her ankles, then lift her by the hips and set her on the cold marble. I rip the clothes off her legs and stand between them.

  “You’re mine, right? I can still touch you?”

  I cup her hot pussy and she nods. “Only you, Lee.”

  “I love that you’re already wet for me. You missed me?” I rub two fingers from her clit to her tight hole and slowly press then inside.

  “Yes. So much.”

  She tilts her hips to rock into my hand and I lean down and kiss her face. Her lips, her nose, her cheeks. “I missed the fuck out of you, Meara. I’m so sorry.” I honestly thought I’d never get to do this again. Be able to touch her like this, love her, or even hold her again. Finding out she still loves me and hasn’t given up on my loser ass gives me even more reason to fight.

  Her moans are all I can hear and I add a third finger then almost come in my jeans when she clenches around me already. Some things never change, her response to me included. Without moving my hand, I drop to my knees, suck on her clit, then flatten my tongue and lick between her lips and circle the tight bundle of nerves again.

  “Lee …” Her fingers pull at my hair, but there’s no way I’m taking my mouth off her until she comes for me again. “I want you.”

  I shake my head and stick my tongue straight out and draw lazy circles around her clit, all while fucking her with my fingers. If I have anything, it's rhythm. So I use my skills to my advantage … and ultimately, hers. I continue the slow in and out movements with my fingers and concentrate on licking and sucking every part of her soft, delicious flesh I can get my mouth on.

  Her thighs start to shake as they tighten around my head and she screams my name at the same time her sweetness fills my mouth. I lick every drop and stand up, ready to go take a cold fucking shower, but she uses her ankles to grab me around the waist and pull me to her. I really don’t deserve her.

  “Don’t you dare walk away without fucking me.”

  This is not why I came here tonight, so I certainly didn’t expect it. I shake my head, but she reaches down and unbuttons my fly and pushes my jeans and boxers down just enough for the tip of my cock to stick out. The cool air hits me and I bite back a groan. She pulls me toward her even closer, and I shuffle to her with my pants around my thighs.

  “Please, Lee. I need you.”

  My hands frame her flushed face and the look in her eyes breaks my fucking heart. I don’t even really know what it is … fear, maybe. When I rub her cheeks with my thumbs, her eyes well with tears. “Meara?”

  She shakes her head, but I don’t let her look away. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her hand that is tremoring slightly reaches down and grips me really hard. After a few excruciatingly slow pumps, she aligns me with her opening, and then I slowly sink into her wet heat. She t
ilts her head up and I lock my lips with hers, just holding them there, breathing her breath, getting high off her love. Christ, she’s better than any fucking drug; purer, cleaner, safer.

  I slowly back out and push in again, almost losing it right away with the way she squeezes me. She gasps and pulls her mouth back and buries her face in my neck, squeezing me almost as hard as she is my dick.

  We both pant and moan and curse until our bodies finally give in to what we’ve needed, a release that’s been building up for months. We’re both limp, and we finally catch our breath after a while. Holding her in my arms after having one of the most intense orgasms of my life makes me feel like such a fucking jackass. How the hell could I ever think about throwing this away? God, I’m a fucking moron. Weak ass motherfucker.

  “Lee?”

  “Yeah, princess.”

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  She unwraps her arms and I gently set her on the floor then watch as she walks to the bathroom with her head down.

  Once she rounds the corner, I pull my pants back up and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge then sit on the couch. Again, I look around and shake my head. She comes back into the room wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt and sits in the chair across from me wringing her hands together.

  “Why are you over there?”

  “I feel like we should talk, and I can’t do that if you’re touching me.”

  I smile at her, and her face lights up.

  “I missed that.” She points at me and I turn to look behind me, not sure what she’s talking about.

  “What?”

  “Your smile.”

  “I haven’t done much smiling lately.”

  “Me either. So, how are you? I mean have you …?”

  “Used? You can ask me, Meara. You have the right to drill me, to challenge me, to question me.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “What?” I interrupt her. I’m suddenly pissed at her for feeling like she can’t talk to me about this. Pissed at me for even making this a topic that we have to talk about. Pissed at my dad for passing along his fucking addiction. Pissed at myself for being pathetic. “Are you afraid you’re gonna find out I’m the piece of shit I’ve been trying to hide from you.”

  She sits up a little straighter and stares me down. “What?”

  “Oh, come on, Meara.” I stand and walk to the window that overlooks the road. “Do you honestly think this is new?”

  “But you said the last time—”

  “I lied!” I turn to her and grip the window ledge with my fingers. “I fucking lied, okay. For fucking years, I’ve been lying to you. It may not have been going up my nose, but the last time I checked, drinking a bottle of vodka a day isn’t normal behavior. That doesn’t scream sober!”

  “You almost died!” She interrupts me now and storms over, inches from my face, pushing against my chest. “You almost died.”

  “I know.” My voice is weaker now.

  “How the fuck are you going to stand here and tell me you’ve had this … this problem for years?”

  A bitter laugh rumbles through my chest. “Because you’re here, all perfect and sweet, and I’m all fucked up. I tried to keep it under control. When I’m with you … I don’t have the urges, the desires. I’m not tempted. You make everything okay. Give me the clarity that booze does. Did. That it did. And I swear, I know it probably doesn’t make it any better, but I wasn’t back on the other stuff for long.”

  “I can’t believe this shit.” She wraps her arms around her stomach and shakes her head. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to kill yourself and leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  I don’t have an answer for that.

  “Fucking wonderful, Liam.” She turns to walk away, then before I can blink, she’s up in my face. “What else have you lied about? Huh? What else tempts you when I’m not there? You questioning me about bringing guys up here out of guilt?”

  “Don’t,” I grit out. “Don’t even fuckin’ go there.” Of all the things she can be mad at me about, the fact that she thinks I’d be unfaithful hurts the most.

  “Why? Afraid I’ll find out you’ve been lying about that, too?” A huge rush of air pushes out of my lungs when she punches me in the stomach. Hard. Pierce taught her how to hit … and he taught her well. “Asshole!” she yells.

  “Why do you think all this shit started, Meara? You think it’s easy to sit there and be alone all the fucking time? Not that I ever wanted to fuck anyone else, but watching all the other guys night after lonely night, and knowing I had to go beat myself off instead of having your body. I’d never betray you like that, but Jesus, I got lonely.” Saying it out loud makes me realize what a whiny bitch I sound like.

  “Like I don’t know that? I fucking live it, too! I’ve lived it for the past seven fucking years.”

  When she turns to walk away, I let her. “I know you have. And I was okay for the first year or so, but when I started to feel so alone ... when all I wanted to do was come back home to you and I couldn’t do that … I started finding ways to make that ache go away. And when I’m around you, or on the rare occasion that you came to me, I never need anything else.”

  Her body is a blur as it spins around to face me. “So you’re saying it’s my fault? I should have visited you more?”

  “No. I’m just saying that when I’m with you, I didn’t need anything else. And when I wasn’t with you, booze took the edge off enough, and I figured I’d just keep going on that way until I was done with the band.”

  She storms to the kitchen and with her back to me, pulls open a drawer. A second later, she exhales a huge puff of smoke.

  I walk up right behind her. “You’re still smoking?” I’m so close that when I speak my breath moves her hair. “Don’t you know how bad it is for you?”

  She turns with a smirk on her face and takes another hit, blowing the smoke directly into my face. I laugh at her, reach down to grab the cigarette, and take a hit of my own. When I hand it back, she shakes her head. “Why did you lie to me?”

  Chapter 18

  Meara

  AS I WAIT FOR Liam to answer me, I try to think back. I’ve known him forever, yet suddenly feel as if I never knew him. How was I so oblivious? When we were together, he never showed any signs. He hardly ever drank around me and didn’t once allude to the fact that he needed or wanted to get drunk or high. In fact, there were times he turned it down when someone offered it to him right in front of me. There were never any phone calls with slurred words or anything like that. I’m completely taken aback, and I don’t know how to react here.

  I’m hurt that he didn’t tell me the truth. Mad that he didn’t trust me enough to talk to me about this. But most importantly, I’m worried about him. The past seven years apart have been torture. We’ve struggled so much with the distance, and for the first time, I had thought that we were heading in the right direction. I was going to tell him I was pregnant, he’d finally be done with the band right before the baby was born, and then we’d move into the farmhouse and live happily ever after.

  I’d have my fairy tale.

  But life doesn’t work that way.

  Instead, I found out that night that he was using again. I ended up in the hospital, I broke up with the love of my life, and then I lost the one thing that I thought would bring him back to me and keep him healthy because, obviously, I wasn’t enough.

  “Would you have stayed with me if you knew?” He’s almost child-like in his tone, so unsure.

  My head snaps up and I consider his question. Would I have? I’d like to think so. But after the overdose last time, I selfishly gave him an ultimatum. But not because I didn’t support him or want what was best. If he had asked for my help, I’d have dropped everything to be there. There was no way though that I could go through it again.

  “I still have nightmares, ya know?” I tell him. In an instant, embarrassment floods his eyes, but I
continue. “It haunts me. That look on your face, the foam and drool and vomit coming out of your mouth. You were convulsing so hard I couldn’t get my hands on you right away because I kept falling on my ass. Only in a movie have I ever seen eyes like yours, so far back in your head it’s a wonder they still work now. And I still see it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you lie to me?”

  An answer is all I want. No matter what he says, I can’t be without him. The past two months have been a special brand of misery. I was hoping that with my threat to leave him, he’d sober up and we could put everything behind us. But finding out that it’s so much more than getting caught up in the rock-n-roll lifestyle, that it’s something he’s struggled with for a long time, I need to be here for him. He has to see I love him no matter what.

  “I’m supposed to be the strong one, right? The ‘man,’” he says, adding air quotes. “But I’m not. I fucking hated being away from you. I have fucking hated so much about the past seven years. I’m not going to get into it again. Just know I’ve been in a bad way.”

  “Okay.” I hop up on the counter and he straddles a kitchen chair.

  “You know my dad’s an addict. My mom left him for it. James stepped up to the plate, so did your dad, but … I suppose that it all started about five years ago. And I don’t want you to think I’ve been walking around with a needle in my arm or anything like that. It started small. A lot of alcohol, some weed. Then some pills. It took a while for some of the harder stuff, and that was rare. I wanted to get high and forget about being alone. I didn’t want to die.”

  I can totally relate to that. “I understand.”

  He abruptly stands and paces for a second. Despite having a discussion about something that is life altering, that could change our relationship forever, my heart skips a beat and my tummy tingles thinking about what just happened on this counter. And that I want to do it again. And again. I’m startled out of my ridiculous thoughts when he sits back down.