Back to Willow (Back Series Book 1)

EIGHT

Seeing her has broken every little piece that I worked so hard to fix all of these years. Losing my brother was troublesome in itself, but it was something I knew was coming considering everything that was going on, then.

She had been the real problem for me. With time, things got slightly more bearable. The memory of her wasn’t as strong. I couldn’t smell her anymore nor remember the sound of her voice, and most importantly, the pain had become a dull nagging in my chest, giving me the illusion that I was on the right path.

Except, she showed up, sending all of that hard work out the window. And now, I am in this limbo with my brain trapped in the past, overwhelmed by the memories of when things started to crumble.

By the time I was sixteen, things had been awful at home for a while. My parents had always been very strict and set in their own prejudiced perspectives. And for quite some time, they had been extra harsh on my older brother, Mason. Particularly, my dad. Nothing he ever did was good enough or met his expectations.

The continuous pressure, the back-handed comments, and the indifference took a toll on us—on Mason especially. Even with my mother’s futile attempts at diffusing the tension, he started spending less and less time at home to avoid confrontations. Except, that only worsened the short periods we all spent together.

In their eyes, there were only two paths for Mason: become a football player or go study law. When he told them he’d do neither and would take a gap year to figure it out, shit hit the fan.

First, my father cut him off, to force him to decide what he wanted, but instead, he got a job. As a mechanic. My mother almost had a heart attack because of it; I would have laughed if it wasn’t so bad.

She tried everything to get him to quit and come back home, but my dad never gave in to her, telling her my brother needed to learn the hard way.

I was proud of him because it was his way of getting some independence and showing our dad that the emotional blackmail wouldn’t work. However, things soured quickly. One morning, thinking they’d already be out, Mason came home to pick up some belongings of his, since he had been staying with some kind of friend for a few months. But my dad was still at home.

They immediately started arguing, with my dad following Mason around the house, throwing insults at him as he headed to his bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” my dad bellowed. “Answer me!”

“Out,” Mason answered.

Alright, I need to step in before the situation gets worse, I thought, feeling the urgent need to de-escalate the situation.

“Mase,” I called as I opened my bedroom door.

My brother stopped and looked to his right side, fixing his eyes on mine. Dark and sunken bags framed the bottom of his eyes, his stubble had grown, and his oily clothes gave him an unkept look. It worried me because I could see how tired he was and couldn”t do anything to help.

Double shifts at the shop to save money for his apartment, he had said last week.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, kiddo?” he rasped, sounding as tired as he looked.

“Just about to leave.” I paused, looking at my dad’s fuming face. He was holding it in because of my presence. Even within these four walls, appearances meant everything. But I wasn’t going to stick around just to let my brother be a target again. “Do you need a ride?”

“Liam, go to school,” Dad gritted. “Your brother and I need to have a conversation!”

“Actually,” Mason started, completely ignoring him. “That’d be awesome, kiddo. Thank you!” His hand raised, landing on my shoulder. His movements were slow, and when he touched me, I noticed the tremors. They were light, barely there, but I could feel them.

Was he hungry?

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five. Let me just get some things.”

I didn’t move, though. I knew better than that. Without another word, my brother walked up to his room at the end of the hall as my father followed closely. Once inside, they shut the door, and automatically, the yelling began.

Did he honestly think just because of the wall, I couldn’t understand what was going on?

“I am not going to fucking law school!”

“Look at yourself! You’re going nowhere with your fucking life. You’re fixing cars when you could be studying at one of the top universities in the country!”

“I am not living off your money, am I? I thought the problem was me being lazy! But nothing is ever fucking good enough for you.”

“You need to get your shit straight, come back home, and finish your education. What will people think of this? You look like a homeless person. An addict!”

Mason let out a sarcastic laugh. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Fucking appearances,” he countered. “What will people think? I don’t give a fuck about any of that! Why don’t you care more about the fact that I could be struggling? How am I making ends meet? Do you even care about anything other than your own ass? This is just shitty parenting!”

A slow and deep thudding sound pierced my ear through the thin walls. No. It was more like a dry and dull echo, followed by a pained groan that made my skin crawl. Then silence. Could it…Instinctively, my feet took me closer to the door, and I pressed my ear to the cool wood, but all that could be heard were the harsh breaths inside.

“Look what you made me do!”

My heart sped up at the realisation of the possibilities—what it could mean. That was all that took for me to burst inside.

Mason was sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling his face with an enraged look. At his feet sat a black duffel back with a few clothes spilling out of it.

“Me?” He was still laughing sarcastically.

“Mase,” I cut in, cautiously.

“Even if I did your bidding and went to law school, I’d be miserable trying to meet your unrealistic expectations! I’d rather be that homeless guy you say I look like rather than live under the roof of someone who pretends to care for me.”

“Get out,” Dad yelled. “Get the fuck out of my house, and don’t you dare come back. You hear me?”

“Gladly,” Mason growled in return.

It pained me to see my brother like that, struggling to make ends meet when my parents had more than enough to spare and refused to take care of him, just because he was not bending to their will.

He roughly grabbed the duffel back, swinging it over his shoulder and stalking out. With a last, disappointed look at my fuming father, I ran after my brother.

“Mase,” I called him when we reached the driveway. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

”It’s fine, brother. I don’t want you to be late for—”

I scoffed, “As if I care about that. Hop in!”

After a few minutes of consideration, Mason sighed and gave in, heading to my scooter. It was his—given by our parents—but he had decided to give it to me when he started working at the shop, knowing full well it would be taken from him, too. He told me back then, he would be working on a new ride for him at the shop, but…I didn’t think it was true. Or at least, it hadn’t happened yet.

I took the duffel bag from his shaky hand and put it in the compartment underneath my seat. At the time, I figured it was because of the adrenaline and anger of fighting because I didn’t know better.

After getting in, we rode in silence through the city for a total of fifteen minutes. It was only when we got there and parked that I ventured a word out. I wanted Mason to know I understood him and had his back, but then again, how much could a sixteen-year-old do?

“They have a weird way to show it, but they want what’s best for us.”

Now, it was his time to scoff. “They want us to be the best to show off, otherwise, they’d know that what’s best for us is to be happy and have loving and supportive parents.”

“They don’t know better.” I sighed. “I am not excusing them but, Mase—”

“But what?” he gritted, eyes blazing on mine. “I need to lower my head and do what they say, is that what you mean?”

“No, but—”

”You know you’re the lucky one, right? They dote on everything you do, everything you say!”

“That’s not true, I was just fortunate to choose a degree they approve of. If I—”

“That’s exactly why I am doing this!” he cut me off again, his words rushed and harsh. “If you were to choose something they wouldn’t approve of, they wouldn’t let you either. I am doing this to show you that you have other options, and they can’t rule your life.” He took a short pause for a deep breath. “Our lives.”

“I support you, brother,” I told him. “I want you to figure out what you want, but I also see how miserable everyone is—”

“And how the fuck do you think I am, Liam?” His voice rose. His eyes were bloodshot and wide, almost popping out of his head. If he weren’t my brother, he’d be scaring me, but I knew how fuming he was. “I was cut off, I had to find a job to survive and have been recently thrown out of my childhood house. Do you think you got it hard?”

“We all have it hard, Mason! One way or another!” For once, my voice boomed, matching his. “Do you think it’s easy to see Mum and Dad fight every damn day? Ignoring each other right after. Not seeing you daily? Not knowing how you are, or knowing if you need anything? They’re barely giving me any money, afraid I’ll give it to you! Which I would, you know? All you’d need to do is call me. I’m just a fucking kid, thrown into the middle of this hurricane, and I am expected to go on as if my life was perfect. When it isn’t!”

“Look at you,” he spat, an unknown fire brewing in his eyes. “Acing every subject at school, being the golden boy at even more sports than I was. You are our parent’s favourite, soon to be in med School. You even got your perfect little girlfriend, that innocent little thing that you prance around everywhere.” The edge of his voice was eerie and terrifying. This was a side of my brother I had never seen before. “But poor little Liam has got it hard!”

It was at that moment that I should have known. It was the beginning of his downward spiral, but I was just too na?ve to know. To understand.

“Mase—”

“You know what?” He pushed me aside and took the duffel bag out before continuing, “Thank you for the ride.” His voice was final, not leaving any space for argument as he turned and left.

I followed him in a desperate attempt to get him to understand. I didn’t want to lose my family. Especially not my brother.

“Come on, Mase. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know very well what you meant. Don’t worry, brother.”

“Mase!” I called but he ignored me, walking down the road to the shop entrance. “Mase!” I tried one last time only to be met with his middle finger.

That was the last time I saw him seemingly sober, at least. It fucking hurt after that but I still had my haven—Willow.

Until I didn’t. And those events are just as ingrained in my brain. A couple of months later, my parents had been out for the weekend and weren’t supposed to arrive until the next morning, so I had planned to have another romantic night with her.

But it was anything but a romantic night; it was the beginning of the shitstorm for me. It wasn’t until it got close to the time we had planned to meet that I realised I still hadn’t thrown away that old condom box that I had hidden in my bedroom, and it was empty.

After the almost heart attack we had when the condom broke once before, I had to go to the convenience store for a new pack—it was that important. However, since it was close, I made the mistake of walking instead of using the scooter. What was supposed to be a ten-minute walking errand, though, turned into an hour, and I was beyond livid.

The store was closed due to some technicality I didn’t bother to check. At that moment, all I was thinking was getting it done quickly to go back in time to meet her. So, I rushed to the second closest one—a twenty-minute walk.

The fact I hadn’t had a text or a call from her yet kept my mind at ease.

Maybe she’s late, I had thought.

After a long line filled with restless sighs just to pay for a goddamn pack of new condoms, I rushed back, hoping to find her by the front door, waiting for me. Except, she wasn’t.

What I found instead had my heart stomping aggressively inside my chest. The front door was ajar when I knew for a fact I had closed it before I left. Willow never had a key, so I knew it wasn’t her right away.

The lock wasn’t forced which meant whoever had entered either had a key or knew how to get inside without forcing it. For a split second, my mind thought of Mason, but I shook it off. There was no way my brother would have left the front door open.

Especially if he was inside.

Placing the bag down, I silently walked a few steps ahead to try and peak in.My throat closed up as I pushed the door open. My eyes swept around the inside of the open space before me, and the sight of it made my gut churn. Some of my mom’s precious porcelain vases weren’t there, and the living room was turned upside down.

It was silent inside, and my main thought was if whoever was here heard me, I could be in real trouble. When I made it to my dad’s office without making a single sound, I almost sighed in relief—if it weren’t for the mess inside.

Even his safe, which was usually hidden behind a fake book shelf, was wide open and empty. That gave the perpetrator away. The only people who knew about it were my parents, myself, and my brother.

Dread flooded my veins as I rushed to my brother’s bedroom, hoping to still find him there. No luck. His bedroom had his drawers and closet opened, with the few pieces of clothing left hanging from the wooden furniture.

Quickly, I sent Willow a text, telling her not to come because something had happened. I had to deal with the consequences of my brother’s actions, after all. Calling my parents and the police was a priority, and by the time everything was wrapped up, it was well after midnight.

Willow’s absence and lack of response were a small afterthought in the back of my brain due to exhaustion. I knew that come morning, I’d make it up to her. Grovelling in the morning and taking her to her favourite bakery in the afternoon would just be the first step.

I waited outside of school for a full hour in the morning, and her brother, Jake, never stopped at the usual spot to drop her off. Even after texting, she never answered. Calling was useless, too, as they went straight to voicemail. In the end, I gave up and went to class, arriving late. That whole day was torture.

Time had never gone by so slowly, and I had never realised how boring and annoying school was without her by my side. Some of my other friends made fun of me, saying I looked like a miserable lost puppy. And maybe I did because I was fucking worried. It wasn’t like Willow to cut contact entirely. We were that disgusting kind of couple that talked all day long, even that one time she had the flu.

It was stressing me out. I couldn’t focus on anything, my brain kept drifting away and there was this voice living rent-free inside my head, shouting at me to just get up and go check on her. And every time it happened, this gnawing feeling in my chest, this prickling sensation on my skin overwhelmed me.

Something was definitely wrong.

The afternoon classes were even worse. So right after school, I almost flew to Willow’s house. The usual ten-minute drive only took five, and there was definitely some tire screeching as the scooter abruptly came to a halt close to her house.

Such was the eagerness, the rush, I didn’t even turn it off before I ran up to her front door, knocking on it continuously. I probably looked like a madman to some. But I didn’t fucking care.

It felt like forever until the lock finally clicked, and the door opened. I was ready to dash inside and look for her, but Jake appeared instantly, forming a barrier between me and the house.

“Where’s Willow? Can you call her?”

“No,” he’d answered. “She’s sick.”

Sick? She seemed just fine yesterday. The days were getting longer and temperatures were slowly rising. It was spring. The flu season was pretty much gone, and she had no allergies.

“Alright, I’ll go check up on her.”

“No,” he repeated. Though the edge in his voice finally made me look up.

The Hanlons are fair-skinned, almost porcelain-like, but Jake, from spending too much time outside and on the beach, is the most tanned of them all. Yet, that day his skin looked like a vampire’s. He was weirdly pale, and there were dark and deep circles around his eyes. If that wasn’t enough, the scleras were reddened like he’d been crying, and his hair was tousled and oily, as if he had been running his hand through it far too much.

Jake looked like shit, and for a guy who loved looking good, this spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” he stuttered. Then he looked around, avoiding my gaze before he continued, “Look, she barely slept with… fever and… I don’t know. She’s been sick. The doctor has been here and ran some tests. We’re waiting for the results but she’s sleeping right now—finally.”

“Let me just peek into the room to make sure—”

“Are you telling me I can’t take care of my sister?” he growled.

Shit. Jake was never that protective of Willow; not when it came to me. Probably because he knew I cared about her as much as him, but in a different way. He’d just leave a few playful hints here and there to let me know he had an eye on me, but I always shrugged it off. There was no way I’d ever do anything to hurt his sister.

“Shit, Jake. No! I’m worried,” I sighed, trying to regain my composure. “She never answered me yesterday…” I trailed off, stopping when Jake’s eyes and lips pressed together tightly, his jaw clenched.

A movement from underneath caught my attention, allowing me to see his fists clench and open a couple of times. When I finally looked up, shiny green irises were watching me intently, irritation burning in his eyes. He was upset but furious, too—I had never seen Jake so torn. He was always the life of the party.

“Jake, seriously…” I tried again. “This is scaring the hell out of me. Is she alright? Can I do something?”

“Sorry,” he gritted out. “She’ll answer you as soon as she can.”

And with those final words, Willow’s brother closed their front door in my face.