Back to Willow (Back Series Book 1)

TWENTY-THREE

“When will you come home, baby? We miss you so much,” my mum coos, hoping I’ll visit soon.

“Probably around Christmas or the New Year. I’ve been working a lot.”

Well, I’ve been willingly drowning in work so I don’t think about other things. So I don’t think about her.

And yet, she’s still living there rent-free.

Fuck!

“That’s still two months away from now. If you’re not coming over, we’ll visit you.”

“Now’s not a good time, Mother. I would barely have time to be with you guys. I promise if I have a weekend or something, I’ll visit.” A blatant lie.

I love my parents. I honestly do.

But ever since Mason left, spending time with them has been overbearing. Insufferable. If we both used to be scrutinized, now, I am the sole target. I am hit with it double.

All hell breaks loose when they mention my brother. He left because of them—because of their self-centred egos and their constant pursuit of proper appearances. For the perfect life.

The irony, huh?That wanting everything to be—to look—perfect is what broke us all apart. Just thinking about it angers me, knowing that I was the lucky one because of a degree choice. Ultimately, I lost my brother.

“Liam? Are you listening to me?” My mother’s voice sounds from the other side of the phone. My thoughts got so loud—as usual—that I missed everything she has been telling me for the last few minutes.

“I was telling you that your father finally gave in.”

“Gave in on what?” Even if deep down, I knew.

“We’re going to look for your brother, honey. We’re going to bring him home.”

I keep silent for a bit, digesting this new information. I love my brother, and it gutted me when he disappeared but after what I seen he chose for his life, I can’t say I am thrilled. Not even by offering him help, asking him to come with me and living together here was enough. He was already far too deep.

Fuck, this is one conversation I don’t want to have.

“Hey, Ma. I have to go,” I cut her off, not even listening anymore.

“What? Why?”

“I have to go to the grocery store. If I don’t go now, I won’t be able to in the next couple of days because I’ll be doing double shifts. I’ll call soon. Tell Dad I said hi. Love you.”

As soon as she says her goodbyes, I hang up. In a flash, I put my shoes on and take the car to the supermarket.

This is the only part of caring for a house that I hate. The effort of not forgetting what I need to cook is too much, and there’s always something that’s left behind. It forces me to come back after a couple of days, and it drives me crazy.

Adulthood. We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do.

Ten minutes in, and I’m already regretting being in here. The aisles are filled with people who keep on bumping into each other or pushing them out of their way to get what they want. And man, do I hate that. Is it so hard to be polite and ask people permission or something? I mean, fucking hell.

Ugh…I’m in a mood.

Thankfully, I get what I need quickly, eager to head back home. But the sight of a familiar face freezes me on the spot.

Sure enough, right down the hall, stands Jacob fucking Hanlon. In the same fucking supermarket as I am with a kid perched on his hip. The young boy looks to be around five or six years old, and while I can’t see his face, he obviously inherited the Hanlons’ dark brown hair.

They seem deep in a heated discussion in front of the chocolate shelves with Jacob consistently shaking his head, and the kid’s arms flailing around them.

Can’t I fucking escape any of them? I moved up here for a reason, after all.

As the anger gets the best of me, I walk up to them and blurt, “Have you all moved up here or what?”

They both shut up and look at me startled. I focus on Jacob’s face, not really wanting to drag the kid more into the middle of this more than I have to. It’s enough that he’s witnessing my outburst. Just then, Jake’s face changes from shock to acknowledgement.

With a slight sway on his step, he turns to face me and answers, “As a matter of fact, no; I’m just visiting.”

“Look—”

“I still want the chocolate!” the little boy whines, interrupting us.

As our attention is brought to him, I freeze again.

Mixed feelings overtake me as I study his appearance. He is familiar—too familiar—but I can’t pinpoint the reason. Besides the hair, the kid looks nothing like his father, their skin a striking contrast. While Jacob and Willow have a paler skin tone, the kid has a golden, slightly darker tone to it as if he spent long hours out in the sun, but what strikes me the most is the eyes.

He has shiny and clear blue eyes. Very similar to mine.

Weird.

As curiosity gets the best of me, I ask, “You a father already?”

Imagining Jake married with kids was never on the top five positions of my list for possible future outcomes. Hell, it wasn’t even in the last position. If anything, I imagined I’d be married to his sister and having kids with her long before he ever did. Jake would have been the cool single uncle.

Would ours look like Jake’s kid looks like?

Fucking hell, I need to get a grip.

Looking back at the kid, he’s finally quiet, his eyes intently locked on mine, now. A shiver runs down my spine so strong I have to shake my head and look away.

Wait, I remember him!

“You were at the hospital,” I say a little too loud, pointing at the kid, not giving Jake the time to answer.

His eyes widen and he nods, “With my best friend.”

“Right,” I hum. “She needed glasses?”

“Yeah…” the boy trails off, looking at me slightly suspicious.

“Em…” Jacob hesitates, glancing at the kid before looking back at me.

He places the kid down on the floor and crouches down to his height before muttering something in his ear. The boy nods and runs towards the opposite end of the aisle, right where the other sweets are located.

He finally answers, “Look, it’s complicated–”

He’s being so awkward that I chuckle. “Alright, dude. No need to panic. You know having kids is not something to be ashamed of.”

He smiles in appreciation, still looking highly uncomfortable. That’s my hint to change the subject. It’s not my place to meddle in his private life. Nor do I care enough to do it.

“Look, I wanted to ask if this time around, you’ll tell me why she left. Because after the three times I’ve met her, she’s adamant to run away from me.”

Jake sighs, lines that didn’t seem to be there before appearing on his forehead and between his eyebrows. His eyes glaze over, all emotion fleeting temporarily.

With a shake of his head, he answers, “Liam, you know it’s not my place to meddle. You both need to have a serious talk.”

I scoff, “Don’t you think I’ve tried? She keeps running away from me like a coward. At this rate, I’ll never fucking know. The least you could do is lay it out for me.”

My voice rises slightly as the anger slithers into my veins once again. But his stance doesn’t falter, not until his eyes focus on something behind me. His shoulders seem to sag, then I turn around, looking in the direction he is looking at.

A wave of nausea hits me as I watch the kid holding a bunch of different sweets and chocolates in his arms, his face moving quickly as he looks from one to the other, visibly torn. It makes me wish that was the hardest choice I had on my mind now. Life is way simpler when you’re young.

“You need to understand…” The assertiveness in Jake’s voice makes me look back at him. “That’s my baby sister you’re talking about. Would I have done things the way she did? Probably not, but I can’t know for sure because I’m not in her shoes.” He sighs, lowering his voice. “There’s one thing I can assure you, though. Out of all of us, she’s the one who’s had it the hardest. You included.”

I laugh, but he adds, “It might not be fair to ask this of you, but could you be a little more patient? If there is one person she’ll tell everything to, it’ll be you.”

For a few moments, the darkest scenarios run through my head, squeezing the strength out of my heart. For years, I’ve wondered what could have happened that justified making her leave. For a long time, I was sure it had to be something serious, otherwise, she wouldn’t just abandon me.

But as the years went by and the resentment made a home out of my heart, I stopped thinking about whatever explanation she could have, fiercely believing they could only be excuses.

But what could fucking explain all of this?

“Well, it’s hard to be patient when she refuses to talk and leaves me hanging mid-conversation.”

Jake sighs. “Just...don’t give up on her,” he asks with a sad smile. “Otherwise, there might not be hope. For any of us.”

“What do—”

“Dylan’s almost done,” he cuts me off. “I have to go. Sorry.”

“But—” I interject.

“Just talk to her, Liam,” he hollers from the other end of the aisle, picking the kid up and placing him back on his shoulders before disappearing into the crowd of shoppers.

“Fuck!” I yell to no one in particular.

A rustling sound startles me, and I turn around, coming face to face with an old lady. She’s eyeing me with one of those disapproving looks on her face with narrowed eyes, tightened lips and a negative shake of her head. Ignoring the judgement, I walk away, continuing to pick up the last needed items and heading home.

The whole time, Jake’s words reverberate through my brain, giving me a headache. In a matter of minutes, my head is throbbing the way it usually is after a fifteen-hour shift in the ER.

In times like this, there’s a slight nagging feeling, asking me—no, begging me—to make it stop. To just make it all stop.

And I am embarrassed to admit that I’ve considered it more times than I can count, just to be hit by guilt. The guilt of knowing that there are people out there having it harder than me and still pushing through, being resilient. And here I am, constantly breaking down because of a woman.

The rest of my day is spent trying—and failing—to regulate my emotions and balance my mindset. Life really is a bitch.

But there is one thing Jake said that sticks with me. Imprinted on my head.

Don’t give up on her. Otherwise, there might not be hope.

It makes me question, where the hell is he seeing hope because it feels like hope has abandoned me a long time ago. Is it worth the try? Probably not, but knowing myself, these words are all I needed to keep trying.

Just one more time.