Chapter 12 – Liam
“Get the hell out of my house,” Jace demanded, pointing toward the door behind me.
Molly’s mom, Alice, slowly rose from her seat at the table. “Jace, honey, at least give him a minute to explain himself.”
“Fuck him and what he did to Molly. He doesn’t deserve the chance to say shit.”
Jace rarely cussed in front of his mom, so I knew exactly how angry he was.
“Watch your words, Jace Allen McKinley,” Alice warned, shooting him a stern look before turning to me.
“Liam, you know you’re like a son to me, so I’m struggling to understand how you could treat Molly this way after finding out you two conceived a child. You have one chance to explain yourself—because the Liam I know would never do this.”
Damn. Disappointing Mrs. McKinley was worse than disappointing my own parents. I felt like such a screw-up, but I’d done this to myself. Now I had to swallow my pride and undo the damage.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly, forcing myself to stand straighter, even though I felt like a coward. I exhaled deeply before continuing.
“Most of you know this, but maybe not Molly. I grew up with a strict father. He thinks his job gives him the right to say or do whatever he wants to anyone, anytime—especially my mom and me. Growing up was hell. The older I got, the more convinced I became that I never wanted to be a father. In my mind, the Carson men aren’t meant to be dads.
” I swallowed hard. “My father wasn’t just strict—he was abusive. Verbally and physically.”
I turned toward Molly, trying to gauge her reaction. Her face was unreadable.
“There’s something none of you know,” I continued. “Before I started school at Silver Creek, I had an older brother. His name was Noah.” My chest tightened. “It sounds cliché, but he lit up every room he walked into. I worshipped him.”
The room was silent.
“But he couldn’t take my dad’s abuse. It broke him down until, when he was twelve, he killed himself.”
Gasps rippled around the room. The icy look on Jace’s face melted slightly.
“He hung himself from the ceiling fan in his bedroom,” I said, my voice cracking. “I was the one who found him.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I pushed through without letting them fall.
“He didn’t leave a note, but he didn’t need to. I knew why he did it—our dad. Losing my brother hollowed me out. I became a shell just to survive. The idea of becoming a father has always terrified me, because I’m afraid I’ll turn into my dad—cold, angry, and cruel.”
Molly shifted, her breath catching.
“I went to my parents’ house earlier this week to talk to them about everything. About the baby.” My jaw tightened. “He called Molly disgusting names and told me to convince her to get an abortion.”
Molly took a step back, fear flashing across her face.
“I told him I would never do that to you,” I said, gesturing to the cut on my cheek, “and you can see how that turned out.”
I zeroed in on Molly, and everyone else faded to the background.
“Molly, I’m terrified of being a father. Fuck—it makes me want to throw up just standing here talking about it. But after the argument with my dad I realized something.” My voice steadied. “Whether I become the person my dad was or not is my choice.”
I took a small step closer.
“All I’ve ever known is coldness and hate. But all you know is love, kindness, patience, grace. I already know you’re going to be an incredible mother to our son. But I’m begging you, please show me how to be a good father to him too.”
Molly covered her mouth with her hand, shock flickering across her face. “Liam, I am so sorry that you had to go through that.”
“It’s still not an excuse for what I did to you. You don’t have to forgive me today—or tomorrow,” I said softly. “But please, let me try to fix this. Somehow. Some way.”
She glanced around the room, as if she were still trying to piece together everything she’d just heard. Her eyes were wet with tears. Finally, she looked toward me again.
“I need more time, Liam.”
I plodded to the front door. Never in my life had I felt like such a failure. I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
As I trudged down the porch steps, the door creaked open behind me.
“Liam, wait,” someone called out.
Jace caught up to me halfway down the driveway.
“What the hell, man? Why didn’t you ever tell me about your brother?”
I let out a humorless breath. “I don’t know. There was never a right time, I guess. What was I supposed to say? Hey, my name’s Liam, I transferred schools because the last one reminded me too much of my dead brother, wanna be friends?”
“I’m fucking serious,” Jace snapped. “You’re like a brother to me. I would’ve helped you work through that shit.”
“Was.”
He stopped short. “Was what?”
“I was like your brother,” I said quietly. “Before I fucked everything up. You told me Molly was off-limits, and I didn’t listen.”
“That was high school,” he said. “I’m grown enough now to understand you’re both adults. You can sleep with whoever you want.” His jaw tightened. “But what you can’t do is knock my sister up and then tell her to raise the baby alone like a fucking jackass.”
I didn’t argue. I had no room to.
“I don’t know how you’re going to fix this,” he continued, kicking at the gravel beneath his boots, “but you better. Because it’s going to suck having to lose my best friend.” His eyes bore into mine. “And I can’t forgive you unless Molly does.”
He turned and walked back toward the house, leaving me standing alone in his driveway.
——————————–
I drove home in silence, nothing but the sound of rushing wind and rubber against the hard asphalt.
I would do whatever it took to get Molly to forgive me, but no amount of flowers or chocolates or I’m-a-douchebag cards was going to do it.
I had to prove that I was sorry. I had to show up for her the way I didn’t in the beginning.
As I drove, I thought about all the things Molly loved: her chickens, reading, being in the sunshine, baking, calm mornings, and living life carefree.
She knew how to take life by the horns and not let go.
She was independent, determined, and perfect in every way—and if our son grew up to be just like her, that would be perfectly fine with me.
Later that night, I dreamed about my brother and I running around our house as toddlers, before the world had turned so cruel.
We raced through the kitchen while our mom stood at the counter, mixing cookie batter and laughing at us as we giggled uncontrollably.
We tore into our rooms, trotting on our stick horses, pretending we were cowboys riding toward some grand adventure.
In the dream, everything felt warm and safe.
The house smelled like sugar and vanilla, and sunlight spilled through the windows, catching dust in the air.
Noah was always just a few steps ahead of me, turning back to make sure I was still following him, like he always had.
We shouted nonsense words, convinced they were battle cries and the world was ours to conquer.
There was no yelling, no fear—just laughter.
Just us. Untouched by everything that would come later.
When I woke the next morning, I knew exactly what I’d do to convince Molly that I’d never let her down again.