by Nicole Helm
Coward. She closed her eyes against the little voice, but before she could work through her feelings on that she heard Liam retracing his steps.
She opened her eyes and he was standing before her, something like apology in his expression. “Sorry I have to run out like this,” he said, leaning forward and brushing his mouth across hers. “But if I don’t take care of it, he’ll call Mom or, worse, Dad.”
Kayla nodded like she understood. And she did understand. His dad was dealing with a heart problem, and his mother was understandably upset, and . . . for some reason the Patrick family seemed to need Liam to be the center. The fixer of all messes.
It seemed wildly unfair to her, but what did she know about functional, happy families? Zero.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He cupped her cheek with his rough hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.
She tried to smile, but she failed. Hard. “You didn’t tell him. About us.”
Everything in him softened, even his shoulders slumped. “I haven’t really seen him, Kayla.”
“Except the other night when he said you didn’t try to fix him,” she returned, and even though she felt a little petty pointing it out, she couldn’t stop herself. She felt . . . She didn’t know. There was just this gut-twisting, heavy, sinking feeling in her stomach.
“He was drunk, Kayla. He passed out. It was hardly a conversation.”
She should leave it at that, let him go, but all she could do was think of all the other ways he might have kept her a secret. “What about your parents?” she asked, looking at her bare feet.
“My parents?”
She could’ve kept being a coward and not said it, or not lifted her gaze, but this was part of everything about her new life. Having courage. Looking someone in the eye. Standing up. “Have you told them about us?”
His mouth just kind of dropped open as though taken completely off guard by her question. “Have you told yours?” he asked gently.
“I don’t talk to mine,” she replied, hugging her arms around herself because suddenly she felt cold and, well, alone. “Pretty much ever these days.”
He scrubbed one hand over his jaw, but the other stayed on her face, holding on to her.
“I haven’t. And I don’t have any good excuses except things have . . . happened fast, but, listen, when everything settles down with my dad, we’ll go over for dinner. Even invite Grandma.” He searched her face for something, still rubbing that rough thumb slowly over her cheek. “Do you think I’m hiding you?”
“No. I . . .” She didn’t know why she felt so hurt by all this. It had been a couple of nights, and while she felt a whole hell of a lot more, maybe he didn’t, and he wouldn’t be wrong.
But that didn’t make her wrong either, did it? What would be wrong would be to shrink down and away, to shy away from hurt or embarrassment. That would be wrong. “It hasn’t been very long at all, but I guess it feels . . .” Oh, if only words didn’t desert her when she was nervous.
“Serious?”
His eyes seemed an impossible pale blue in the dim light, but they held her gaze as though—despite the fact his brother was getting arrested somewhere—she was the most important thing.
“Yes,” she managed to whisper. “Serious. I-important.”
He swallowed, but his other hand came up to cup her other cheek. “It is. To me. All of those things. I promise you.”
She tried to breathe normally, but her chest was tight and her eyes were stinging. Serious. Important. Maybe something like love. It was almost too much.
“I have to go,” he said gravely. “But call me when you wake up in the morning, okay?”
Kayla nodded wordlessly.
He pressed a kiss to her mouth, soft and sweet, something like a promise in and of itself. When he released her, she could see the regret in his eyes. So she forced herself to smile best she could. It wavered, surely, but it was better than nothing.
He turned and strode out of the room and Kayla simply stood there and waited until she heard her front door open, then close.
Then she sank to the end of her bed and let out a little sob. She didn’t even know why she was crying, half hurt, half elation, so many big feelings fighting for space inside of her.
She took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to stem the tide of tears. Because this was good. All good. He felt the same way she did. Serious and important.
But she had the most obnoxious niggling worry in the back of her brain, that this kind of thing would always come between them. Problems would always need fixing, and he’d be the first to jump up to fix them.
“You like that about him,” she reminded herself, aloud, in the quiet of her room alone. She forced herself to crawl back into bed and did her best to ignore that stupid, pointless worry.
* * *
Aiden hadn’t ever been Mr. Rule Follower, but getting arrested for a DWI was not Aiden at all. Liam was just as much worried for his brother as he was pissed off at him for calling Kayla, for dragging him into this.
Liam drove to the police station frustrated and worried and wondering how on earth they would explain this to their parents, or if they even had to with everything else going on. Christ, his family was a damn mess.
Well, of course, things are going so well for you personally, this is what happens.
He shook that thought away and went into the police station. He was informed of what he needed to do, and went through all the steps, including paying the damn bond—money he was sure to never get back.
It took a little over an hour to go through all the rigmarole of getting Aiden out of jail. When they finally released him, Aiden only grinned. At Liam. At the other officers. He just grinned and grinned and grinned.
Liam didn’t trust himself to say anything so he walked Aiden out to his truck in complete and utter silence. Once inside the truck, Liam looked at his brother. Okay, so he did have a few things to say. Well, one thing.
“So, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Aiden Patrick, nice to meet you.”
Liam shook his head and started the truck, pulling out of the police department’s parking lot. “This isn’t you, Aiden.”
Aiden laughed. “Like you know shit about who I am.”
“I know you getting drunk every night is a problem. And I damn well know getting arrested is a big fucking problem, so why don’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.”
“You’re fucking her. Fucking my—”
“She was never your anything, Aiden,” Liam gritted out, hoping to end this line of conversation before his violent response bubbled over. Because Aiden had zero right to be pissed about him and Kayla. Zero. Right. “You disappeared, and—”
“You were what was left?”
It was a blow meant to hurt, and Aiden might be drunk and clearly in a shitty place in his life, but he knew how to land that blow right where it would hurt. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
Aiden made a considering noise, and clearly the time in jail and the time it took to process everything had worn some of the drunk off of him. He was alarmingly with it, and happily mean.
These kinds of moods never ended well, and Liam was exhausted. By just about everything. But he took a deep breath and reminded himself that he had to be the bigger person when it came to Aiden.
Hadn’t he been told his whole life he had to take the high road when his brother was being a manipulative ass? He was supposed to be the better person. The responsible, steady, counterpoint to Aiden’s capricious, volatile immaturity.
Only Aiden had ever made Liam hate that role, but Liam had come too damn far to abandon it now. Mom and Dad had enough on their plates right now, and Liam was the better person, damn it.
So he ground his teeth together and drove to Mom and Dad’s. He had a key and he could hopefully let Aiden in without waking anyone up, and then he could go home before he lost his tenuous grasp on control.
Liam pulled onto Mom and Dad’s street, slowing down as he approached where he usually parked at the curb.
“What do you think would happen if she had the choice?” Aiden asked before Liam had come to a full stop.
Liam hit the brake hard, the screeching of his tires echoing through the quiet neighborhood. When he jammed the truck into park to stare at his brother, Aiden was only smiling. Mean and vicious.
Liam was pissed off, by and large, but he reminded himself that it was the middle of the night and surely, surely his brother was going through some huge crap to be being this much of an ass.
“If I, say, ran into her at the farmers’ market, or maybe outside of her apartment, do you think she’d beg me off, or would she still agree to go out with me?”
“That’d be up to her, I guess,” Liam forced himself to say through gritted teeth. He refused to let himself consider the question since it was wholly and utterly stupid and pointless. He pushed out of the truck, making sure his key to the front door was ready to go.
“She’s sweet. Wouldn’t want to hurt anyone,” Aiden was saying as he got out of the truck and started following Liam—walking through the yard even though Dad had asked them approximately a million times to walk up the concrete drive in the spring so as not to disturb the grass seed or fertilizer he put down.
“But she always did have a thing for me. Probably be pretty hard to turn me down, especially if I was persuasive.”
Liam whirled on his brother, shaking with a rage he was desperately, desperately trying to swallow down. “Say one more thing about her, Aiden,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “one more damn thing and—”
“And you’ll what? Perfect Saint Liam. What will you do to me, huh?” Aiden stepped closer, poking him in the chest. “Lecture me a little more firmly? Give me a real talking to if I wondered aloud how willing Kayla Gallagher would be to suck my—”
Liam threw the punch before he even thought about it, and the blow landed with a sickening crack and shot of pain down his arm.
Aiden stumbled to the ground, but before Liam had worked through the shock of actually punching his brother in the face, Aiden was back on his feet rushing him. Liam tried to brace himself, but Aiden’s momentum knocked him flat on his back. Hard.
Aiden landed a solid punch to Liam’s side and Liam’s breath rushed out of his lungs. He managed to block Aiden’s next punch, but he was in the crappier position here, underneath Aiden. He gave Aiden a push, but Aiden was using all his weight. So Liam elbowed Aiden in the stomach as hard as he could, using the blow to propel Aiden off of him. Aiden tried to get back up, and in the back of his mind, Liam thought maybe he should let him. Let him get up and say shit and whatever. Liam would take the high road like always.
Instead, he pushed his brother back down. “Get to your feet and I swear to God, I’ll break something.”
“And what would Mommy and Daddy think?” Aiden asked, the streetlight showing off the fact that something during the fight had split his lip, a thin trickle of blood down his chin. “I don’t think Mom’s going to be too happy with you.”
“Fine. You want more of a fight? Fucking fine. Get it out of your system, Aiden. Stand up and we’ll fucking fight.”
Aiden got to his feet, fists balled in a fighter’s stance. Liam rolled his eyes. “Oh, so we’re going to box?”
“No, I’m going to break your fucking nose. I told you Kayla Gallagher was mine.”
“Kayla is her own damn person. And a damned good one, and you were right the other day, you aren’t good enough for her. Not by a fucking long shot. You’re a spoiled baby masquerading as a fucking adult.”
Aiden swung and Liam dodged it, but didn’t realize Aiden had swung with the other arm as well. The blow hit him in the ear and made it ring, but Liam countered with one of his own, punching Aiden square in the gut.
Aiden doubled over and Liam took a step back. This was stupid and childish and—
Aiden kicked him right in the fucking shin. Liam howled in pain, before it turned into a growl of anger. This time he lunged at Aiden, tackling him back to the ground.
A light much closer than the street lamp flicked on, making them both wince.
“What on earth is going on here?” Mom demanded, her voice high and panicked. “Liam Patrick, get off your brother this instant!”
Shame washed through him, along with a bone-deep weariness. He didn’t know what to do with Aiden. Never had. He didn’t know how to see this as anything but inevitable, really. No, he’d never tried to fix Aiden because he damn well didn’t know how.
And this was what it came down to. Liam couldn’t wish it away, because he couldn’t think of any alternatives to this right here. But he did wish they could have had better timing, that everything with Dad’s stents was settled.
Liam got off Aiden and stood. He opened his mouth to try and find words that could ease Mom’s worry or hurt, but there were none. None.
He couldn’t help Aiden, because Aiden didn’t want to help himself. And there was not a damn thing he could do about it. Liam couldn’t help but wonder if that had caused the fight as much as anything else.
Mom rushed over and bent to help Aiden up to his feet, and Aiden let her. They both glared at him accusingly.
“Take me inside, Mom. I can’t stand to look at him another minute,” Aiden said, the rough, shaken note to his voice almost believable.
Mom cooed soothing words at Aiden, leading him inside, and Liam stood in the middle of the yard, breathing heavily, trying to make sense of any damn thing.
The door closed, sharp and final. Liam could only stare. He was pretty sure his nose was bleeding, and God knew his leg was throbbing from where Aiden had kicked him. He was out of breath and hurting inside and out.
And Mom had taken Aiden inside and shut the door on him.
Chapter Fifteen
Kayla hadn’t slept much after Liam had left. She was too worried, and sort of vaguely irritated in a way she couldn’t work through. She wasn’t mad at Liam for leaving. He’d done the right thing. So maybe she was mad at Aiden. Or at a family who had somehow decided Liam had to solve all their problems.
Which wasn’t fair. She didn’t know much about his family, even if she knew Liam himself.
Fair or not, right or not, it was a simmering irritation in the back of her head as she drove from the donut place where she’d picked up some breakfast to Liam’s house.
He’d said to call, but she didn’t want to talk to him on the phone. She wanted to talk to him face to face and hear what had happened.
Maybe it was needy or insecure, but she needed some reassurance that this wasn’t . . . Well, this also probably wasn’t fair, but she was over worrying about fair for everyone but herself. This whole bravery thing meant not just saying what she wanted or going after it, but working toward it.
She pulled up in front of Liam’s house. It was six thirty and his truck was parked at the curb, so he should be home. He might be sleeping, considering he’d left her place in the middle of the night, but if she knew Liam, he was probably awake and getting ready for work.
No matter how few hours he’d slept, no matter how much he’d helped his brother, he would consider it necessary to get up and work and make sure his dad didn’t worry.
It was such an odd thing to be so impressed by that, but also a little irritated by it. Didn’t he ever think to take care of himself?
Well, maybe that would just be her job. No one had ever let her take care of them before, and she liked taking care of Liam. It made her feel good.
She marched up to the front door, box of donuts in hand, and knocked firmly.
She waited. And waited. And waited. Maybe he was asleep. Or in the shower. Or maybe he’d gotten a ride from his father or something.
She should have called. This was stupid, inserting herself where she didn’t belong.
Then the door opened and she exhaled.
“Hey.” His voice was weird, mo
re like a rasped whisper, and he had a baseball cap pulled low on his head, which was shading most of his face.
“Hi, I brought donuts. I thought you could use a sugary breakfast after last night.”
His mouth curved, and that’s when she noticed how puffy his lower lip looked, and the cut that definitely had not been there a few hours ago. “What happened to your lip?”
“Oh, that.” He lifted a finger to his mouth, then angled his head down so the hat shielded her view of him almost completely.
She shied away from jumping to her own conclusions. Surely it was something innocuous. But he didn’t explain either, or move to let her in.
Maybe a better person would have turned around and gone, but she didn’t want to be a better person right this second. She reached up and yanked the hat off his head, and maybe it was overdramatic, but she gasped.
His cheek was visibly bruised and looked swollen. She reached out to touch his face, under the mark. “Liam.”
“It’s nothing. Really. A split lip. A bruise. I’ve had worse.”
“How did it happen?” she demanded, and he finally met her gaze, everything about him looking exhausted and just . . . beaten.
“It’s not important.”
Rage propelled her forward. She nudged him out of the way so she could step inside. She dropped the box of donuts on an end table and marched into the kitchen.
“Not important,” she muttered angrily as she wrenched open his freezer. He’d been hurt. Hurt. This man she lo—Well, she wasn’t letting herself think like that quite yet, but Liam was important to her and it was physically painful that he’d been hurt and was saying it wasn’t important.
She rummaged around until she found a frozen bag of vegetables. That would work. Then she marched back out to the living room where he was slowly closing the door. She pointed at his recliner.
“Sit.”
“Kay—”
“Sit.”
He huffed out a breath but crossed to the chair and sank into it. “I have to get to work,” he grumbled irritably.