Back to Willow (Back Series Book 1)

TWENTY-SEVEN

As I look at myself in the mirror, after getting dressed this morning, I barely recognize the person looking back at me from the other side of the glass.

I did it. I finally found the courage to tell someone everything that happened.

Just like I had done, Arthur listened to everything without interrupting me once—not even when I cried. Every fear that had been simmering inside of me about his ulterior motives vanished last night.

Not once did he try to touch me inappropriately or take advantage of my vulnerability, even after telling him something so personal that no one else knows, showing me that he was being truthful about a platonic and harmless friendship.

In the midst of all of this, and how Johanna proved to be incapable of respecting boundaries and not meddling with what doesn’t concern her, having Arthur being the exact opposite has made me feel less lonely. Like I truly have a friend.

And even after barely sleeping, I feel lighter this morning with renewed energy and slightly more confidence that I can solve this.

Last night also made me realise that I need therapy. In the end, I needed the bomb to blow up in my face to understand that sweeping my problems under the rug won’t make them disappear. Not to mention the fact that it is completely unfair to everyone, especially Dylan and Liam.

Climbing down the stairs turns out to be a funny experience due to the extreme bickering coming from inside the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I muse to the sight of Jake and Dylan completely covered in a white powder—probably flour.

“Ahhh!” they both screech in a high-pitched tone, immediately placing my almost-thirty-year-old brother in the same emotional intelligence bracket as my six-year-old son.

“No, Mummy!” He rushes to me, pushing me out of the kitchen. “You’re ruining the surprise. Go wait outside!”

“Is this the way to greet your mother in the morning?” I complain in a fake scold but still comply with his demands.

“Look.” He stops for drama, placing his tiny palms on his hips, cocking it to the side while raising his eyebrow. What the hell? How did this kid turn so sassy? “This a surprise. Uncle Jake told me you need to behave and wait in the living room until we call you!”

Look at that attitude! This boy will give me a lot of headaches when he grows up, that I’m sure. Hopefully, he’ll keep this kind and affectionate side and spare me a few troubles.

Chuckling, I concede. “Alright, boss.”

With a triumphant smile on his face, he goes back inside, and I plop my butt down on the couch, watching some random TV channel, waiting for this surprise.

“Come on! Come on,” he yells, dragging me after him, back to the kitchen.

Inside, Nana’s already sitting down, next to Jake with a breakfast banquet on the table. On one side, there’s scrambled eggs, bacon, cheese, ham, and some oats. The other side has a plate with toast alongside some pancakes, butter, jams, and Nutella. And in the middle there is a variety of beverages like milk, tea, and freshly made orange juice.

My throat clogs up at the tender eyes trained on me; the love I feel for these three people is immense and I am beyond grateful.

“Thank you so much, to all of you.” It’s only loud enough for them to hear and smile at me.

“You deserve this and so much more, Lo,” Jake comments, a white spot of flour on his cheek, drawing my attention. “We just wanted to remind you how loved you are.”

“Now, get over here,” Nana orders, a playful tone in her voice.

That’s permission enough for Jake to go back to his silly self, immersing himself in intense bickering with his nephew. Nana asks me about school, purposefully avoiding last night’s subject. I try to engage as much as possible, and the two silly males in the kitchen manage to force out a few laughs, but deep down, my mind is still stuck thinking about something. Specifically, someone.

He was raging. How will I even be capable of diffusing such anger?

“Sis,” Jake breaks me out of my reverie. “Nana and I planned to take Dylan to the park today.”

“Sure. Let me just grab my bag.”

As soon as my foot touches the first step, the bell door rings. Chills cover my body as I turn around and look at Jake questioningly.

“Well,” he quips, rubbing the back of his head. A rare sight for Jacob Hanlon, since he rarely gets embarrassed. “Liam told me he’d be here early today to talk to you. And Nana told me it was a good idea to let you guys talk properly without…distractions.”

“Please, tell me you didn’t give him our address,” I beg.

“Nana did,” he confesses.

“Couldn’t you have given me just one more day off?” I whine just before the bell rings again. “I had already made up my mind about solving this the best I could.”

“Then we just created the opportunity,” Nana quips, heading towards the door.

“I’m ready!” Dylan calls from the staircase. “Mum? Why aren’t you ready?”

“Mummy’s tired,” Jake answers before I can. “Give her a kiss, and let’s meet Nana up front.”

I follow them to the front door, coming directly face to face with a stoic Liam. He is focused on Dylan the entire time while my son initially ignores him. It’s only when they step outside that he sticks his tongue out at him. If the urge to cry wasn’t so strong, I’d be laughing at his vigorous personality at such a young age.

The silence and thick tension stretch for the entire time it takes for Jake to pull him to his car. Only when they drive off, does Liam look at me. His lips are whiteish and thinned from being pressed together, and his light brown eyebrows are twisted in a deep frown. All the while, his cobalt irises are piercing right through my soul. It’s exactly the expression I expected.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door wider, letting him come in. He follows, quietly shutting the door after him. The clicking sounds of the door, the wood creaks from our steps, and our breathing are the only audible sounds, seemingly louder than usual.

I stop by the couch, motioning for him to sit down. We’ll both need to be sitting down for this. Surprisingly, he does, not even uttering a word. The both of us, sitting down at opposite ends of the couch, keep silent.

A strong contrast from the raging emotions from last night, today, we’re both contained. Under control. Let’s just hope we can keep it that way.

“Let’s—”

“Will you–”

We cut each other off by speaking at the same time.

“You first.” Liam’s voice is even, confirming he’s keeping it together today.

“I just need you to let me talk at my own pace, without interruptions. Please, be a little patient with me,” I beg.

“I–” he stops mid-sentence to sigh before running one hand through his messy dark blond locks. “Go on then…”

Lying back on the couch, he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I never had mononucleosis, I—”

“No shit!” he cuts me off, and I can’t help but glare. He didn’t even last one minute. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“I’ll get to it, but first, I need you to understand that when I found out I was pregnant, I went to my parents. They were the ones who were supposed to help me, guide me. Protect me, even. Instead, they gave me an ultimatum. Either I terminated the pregnancy or I was out.”

“But—”

“Liam,” I plead, and he clamps his mouth shut. “Of course, I refused. I wasn’t allowed to take anything with me, not even clothes or a phone. I’ve never seen them again, and they have never called me since. The only thing I had was the money Jake lent me so I could get to my grandmother’s house. She took me in and helped me as much as she could. I was sixteen, pregnant, confused, scared, and alone. I know I should have told you, but I didn’t know how.”

How does one say to her boyfriend, I’m pregnant and it’s not yours?

“But that doesn’t mean I–” Raising my hand, I cut him off.

“How could a teenager, who had just turned to her parents for help, only for them to get rid of her, think someone else would even want to help? I am a mother now. There is nothing in this world that could have made me turn my back on my son. But they did. If my own blood doesn’t care for me, how could others? In my sixteen-year-old brain, I had no one.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Willow,” he tries to reason.

“I can’t expect you to understand. But my mental health was really bad, and I did what I thought was best for everyone. Even if, by now, I realised it might not have been.”

“I would have done anything you asked me,” he mutters, looking straight into my eyes, piercing my soul. If there is someone who can shake me to the core, it’s Liam Davis.

Would he have?

“How would that be fair to you?” I counter. “It wasn’t your responsibility in the first place! I couldn’t have asked that of you.” I pause for a few seconds to prevent my eyes from getting blurry. “I could never.”

“What do you mean not my responsibility? Do you think I’d abandon my girlfriend and my son?” he asks offended.

In my mind, back then, all I could think was that it wasn’t fair to make him raise a baby that wasn’t his. How do I explain that? How am I going to tell him that I was…

Instead, I settle with, “This kind of burden was never yours to carry, anyway.”

“What does that even mean? Stop with the charades. All of this doesn’t explain anything, Willow.” Maybe it happens unconsciously, but we’re much closer than we were when we started talking.

It always happens with us. This invisible force keeps bringing us closer together, even when there’s a huge rift keeping us apart.

“What could possibly explain shutting me out for four weeks? What could warrant you to hide your pregnancy from me and leave without even giving me an explanation?”

“Let me talk,” I snap, shutting him up. “I will get there. Eventually.”

“Tell me, then.” He motions his hand, trying to get me to talk. “What could legitimise the fact that you took a kid from his father?”

“I did what I had to do. You need to understand this.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means that in the midst of a really fucked-up situation, I did the best I could. Even if it hurt all of us. It also hurt me. I never wanted to leave in the first place!”

“Are you going to carry on with the cryptic answers? Because it’s not helping you in the forgiving field,” he snarks back, visibly annoyed.

He’s right, but how can I explain this without hurting him? Do I just rip the band-aid off?

Maybe.

“If by the forgiving field you mean by taking a kid from his father, then I don’t need forgiving.”

“What the hell?”

I close my eyes and take a deep inhale, filling my lungs with oxygen. My heart is beating like crazy, threatening to jump out of my chest at any moment. My shaking hands can’t stop fidgeting with the hem of my T-shirt, and when I finally exhale and lock eyes with Liam, I prepare myself.

I prepare for the other shoe to drop. I prepare for the bomb that’s about to explode.

“I haven’t taken your kid from you because you’re not his father.”