Chapter 37 #2
She nudged his knee while looking at her phone. “Your mom texted. They’re an hour out. So brace yourself for the chaos.”
“Already bracing,” he said, though his voice came out flatter than he meant.
Emma turned back to the screen as a pair of new parents rocked a baby to sleep. The camera lingered on the quiet sway of it, the small weight held in someone’s arms. Liam watched it for a moment, knowing he should feel something like joy, but the feeling wouldn’t come.
A short while later, the buzzer rang, announcing the arrival of his parents and younger sister.
They were in the middle of a big road trip up the coast, stopping in Los Angeles for two nights before continuing north to San Francisco.
His older sister had wanted to come too, but life with two kids made spontaneous trips impossible, so it was just the three of them this time.
Liam was already on his feet before Emma could shift to stand. He pressed the intercom, grinning at the familiar noise on the other end. His mother’s voice overlapped with Maddie’s, while his dad could be heard in the background, asking which button to press.
He opened the door a minute later to the all-too-typical chaos of them. His mother led the way, hair windblown and arms out for a hug. His dad followed close behind, carrying a cooler in one hand, and Maddie brought up the rear, smiling as she took him in.
“Sweetheart!” his mother said, wrapping him up before he could answer. “You look wonderful. Too thin, but wonderful.”
“Hi, Mom.” He laughed into her shoulder. “You look exactly the same.”
“Flattery already,” she said. “He must want something.”
His dad handed over the cooler. “She brought half the store. Don’t ask me what’s in it.”
“Love,” his mother said. “And everything I need to make lasagna.”
Maddie leaned in for her hug. “Missed you, big brother.”
The apartment filled fast—shoes by the door, bags dropped, voices bouncing off the walls. His mother headed straight for the kitchen, already rearranging things like she owned the place. His father paused to take in the view, and Maddie was joking with Emma about baby names.
For a moment, Liam just stood back and watched them, the noise of it all washing through him. It felt good having them here again after months of only video calls.
A couple of hours later, the apartment smelled like garlic and baked tomatoes. His mother moved through the kitchen as if she’d been born there—sleeves rolled up, humming under her breath while the lasagna browned in the oven.
She was petite and bright-eyed, all effortless energy, her dark auburn hair now threaded with silver.
She had the kind of presence that filled a room without trying.
His dad was her opposite in almost every way—tall, broad-shouldered, calm by default.
He sat at the table with a beer in one hand, pretending to read a travel brochure while really just watching her.
Maddie shifted easily between them, setting out plates and glasses, organizing without being asked. She’d gotten their mom’s coloring—freckles across her nose, copper hair falling loose around her face, and a kind of steadiness in the way she moved.
Emma was perched on one of the kitchen stools, a faint smile tugging at her mouth as she watched his family orbit around them. She looked both tired and utterly alive, caught somewhere between exhaustion and joy.
His mother hovered over her like she was made of porcelain—offering water, bringing a pillow, fussing with gentle hands until Emma finally teased, “I’m pregnant, Mary, not fragile,” and everyone laughed.
Dinner was loud in the best way. Plates passed back and forth, and wine poured freely.
His father launched into a story about missing a turn somewhere outside Palm Springs and ending up at a ghost town diner, where the waitress swore she’d met Elvis.
Maddie kept trying to correct the details, and his mother kept scolding her for interrupting.
Emma laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.
For the first time in weeks, Liam let himself laugh too. The sound came easier than he expected, the kind of laughter that felt like home. He didn’t even realize how much he’d missed it until it was there again.
When the plates were empty and the table covered in crumbs and glasses, his mother rose to start clearing. Liam stood to help. She waved him off but didn’t stop him, accepting plates from his hands until they stood side by side at the sink. The chatter behind them softened into background noise.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she said, rinsing a dish.
“I’m tired,” he said automatically.
She dried her hands, then turned to face him fully. “Liam.” Her voice was gentle, but it carried a weight he could never ignore. “I know that face. Something’s weighing on you.”
He tried for a smile, the easy kind. “You worry too much.”
She reached out and touched his cheek, thumb brushing along the edge of his jaw. “You’ve always felt things deeply, even when you pretend not to. I can see it, you know.”
He stared at the sink for a long moment. “I’m just… having a hard time lately.”
Her hand stilled on the towel. “With what, honey?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing you can fix.”
She studied him, quiet for a beat. “That doesn’t mean you should face it alone. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
He swallowed hard. “I wish I could.”
Something flickered in her eyes—concern, curiosity, love—but she didn’t push. “Then just know that you can, whenever you’re ready.”
He nodded, jaw tight. He wished he could tell her about Jacob.
About the way everything had shifted and how impossible it felt to be split in two.
He wanted her to tell him what to do, to fix it the way she used to when he was young, and everything was still simple. But all he said was, “Thanks, Mom.”
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stepped closer and pulled him into a hug, the kind that had always made the world quiet for a moment. He let himself sink into it, just long enough to feel something close to safe.
When she finally let go, she said, “I love you, sweetheart.” She gave his arm a squeeze and turned back to the sink. “Go sit with Emma. I’ll join you in a minute.”
He nodded, unable to answer, and did as he was told.
The room was full of warmth and laughter, all the things he’d grown up believing were enough—and still, a part of him longed for what he couldn’t have.
He missed Jacob more than he could stand.
He wanted him here, to share all this with him.
The ache was sharp, made worse by everything that should have felt complete.