Chapter 23
I toss and turn all night, the bedsheets tangling around my legs like the thoughts tangling in my head. Sleep refuses to come. My body’s exhausted, but my mind is wide awake, replaying every word, every look, every bruise that’s been left on my heart.
Just after four, I give up.
I flip on the light and start packing the belongings I left here months ago. The act feels too quiet, too final. There are still some things that won’t fit into the bag I found in the closet, but I’ll have to collect them later.
When I finish packing, I search the house until I find Sammi. She’s curled up in the room Liam converted just for her, sunlight barely brushing the windowsill, her soft body rising and falling with each contented breath. My throat tightens as I kneel beside her.
“He needs you more than I do, love,” I whisper, running my fingers gently through her fur.
She purrs, leaning into my hand like she understands. Like she knows this might be goodbye. I press a soft kiss to the top of her head, then stand.
The hallway is quiet as I make my way to Liam’s room. I pause outside his door, my heart pounding. For a moment, I almost turn away.
But I can’t leave without saying it.
I knock softly. “Liam? Can I come in?”
The door opens almost instantly, and he’s standing there already dressed, hair damp from the shower, tension written into the tight line of his shoulders.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
I don’t answer. I just step past him and into the room.
It hits me like a punch to the gut.
He’s sleeping on my side of the bed.
And there, near the pillow, is one of my old shirts, faded and crumpled, but unmistakably mine. A worn little piece of me he kept close when I wasn’t here.
My throat closes. I can’t breathe past it.
But I force myself to meet his eyes, steady and unflinching.
“Your father came to see me last night,” I say, my voice low and even.
His face shifts instantly, jaw tightening and shoulders going rigid. “What did he say?”
“That he wanted me gone,” I answer, watching his expression carefully. “Because the two of you apparently have something nice going on.”
I let the silence stretch between us before I add, “I hope that’s not true, Liam. I hope to God you see what he’s doing.”
“I know,” he says, quietly. Almost ashamed.
I dip my head. “Good.”
But it’s not enough. Not anymore.
He looks back at me. “Is that all?”
“No. It’s not.”
I take a breath, my heart pounding, and lift my gaze to his.
“Liam, I love you. I loved everything we had. I loved what we were building together. On the ranch, in this house, even in that goddamn baby-making room.” I pause, blinking hard.
“But what I don’t love is how easily you let your father manipulate you.
How you see exactly what he’s doing and still hand him the keys. ”
“He’s my father, Olive,” Liam says, the words bitter. Defensive. “That’s what family does. You don’t just walk away.”
“No,” I say, firm and clear, “but you don’t sacrifice everything for someone who only shows up when they need something.”
I take a step closer, emotion swelling in my chest like a wave I can’t hold back.
“You’re not just enabling him, Liam. You’re dismantling yourself to keep him comfortable. And he knows it. He’s counting on it.”
His jaw clenches. But he doesn’t interrupt.
“What happens when he shows up again when the twins are here? Are you going to let him hold them? Be around them? What happens when he steals something in front of them or lies or throws a fit when we don’t hand over more money?
” My voice breaks. “Are you going to sit up every night making sure he doesn’t sneak out the back door with the silverware? With their future?”
Liam flinches. Good. Because I’m done being the only one afraid of what comes next.
“I need to know what kind of father you’re going to be,” I whisper. “Because I can’t do this if you’re going to keep choosing him over us.”
Liam stares at me like I’ve just torn open his chest and exposed every nerve. His hands flex at his sides, jaw working, like he's trying to hold back a storm, but it breaks anyway.
“You think I want to be like this?” he snaps, his voice low and sharp. “You think I don’t hate the way he gets inside my head? I’ve been dealing with his bullshit my entire life, Olive.”
I flinch at the bitterness in his voice, but I don’t back down.
“I know, Liam. That’s why I’m asking you to choose.”
He steps closer, eyes burning. “You want me to choose? Between the man who raised me, even if he did it badly and someone who left the second things got messy?”
My mouth falls open. “Messy? You looked me in the face and asked if our babies were even yours.”
His face twists. “Because I was scared. Because I knew I didn’t deserve you, and it was easier to push you away than watch you walk.”
“Well, congratulations,” I say coldly. “You didn’t have to watch me walk this time. You’re driving me.”
His chest rises and falls, breath shaking.
For a long second, neither of us says a word.
Then, with a tight nod, he mutters, “I’ll get the keys.”
The ride to the airport is dead silent. The air in the truck is suffocating, thick with everything we never said right, everything we ruined.
I stare out the window, arms folded, jaw clenched tight enough to crack.
He doesn’t speak.
Not until we pull up to the curb.
I reach for the door handle, but he grabs my wrist. Not hard, just enough to make me stop.
His voice is hoarse. “Is this really what you want?”
I turn, eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s not about what I want, Liam. It’s about what I need. And I need to protect them. Even if that means protecting them from you.” I pause. “You need therapy, Liam. And you need to figure out your shit.”
He lets go of me like I burned him.
I climb out, slamming the door shut behind me. My suitcase thuds onto the sidewalk.
And just like that I walk away again.
But this time, I don’t look back.
Because if I do, I won’t survive it.