Chapter 20
Liam
That’s All I Wanted From You – Jalen Ngonda
All the way back to the hotel, I couldn’t stop thinking about Charity’s kiss.
It hadn’t been hot and heavy, not like the one in the motel.
Yet, it had sent my pulse racing just as fast. My lungs had constricted just as tightly.
When her soft lips whispered against my cheek, I regretted even more that she thought I’d rejected her at the motel.
If only she knew how she set my blood on fire.
How much she had me wishing for things that I wasn’t sure I was able to give.
Things I didn’t know if my heart was big enough for.
I regretted that I wasn’t able to tell her how I was feeling.
How she made me feel. How I clearly was messing things up by trying to protect both our hearts.
“Want to go to the restaurant or room service?” I asked, pressing the call button of the elevator back at the hotel.
Charity shrugged. “Not sure I can eat.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she rolled her eyes. “I could manage something, I guess.”
Accepting her agreement with relief, I glanced around the lobby, watching as people milled around getting on with their business.
A couple looking at a map, a group of girls giggling together, one of them wearing a tiara and sash indicating she was a bride-to-be.
The concierge was talking to two elderly ladies, while a guy paced back and forth with a baby in a stroller.
Seeing something like that usually sent me into a downward spiral, but I found myself smiling and not wondering why he got that life and I didn’t.
“Come on,” I told Charity as the elevator arrived, “We’ll get room service and plan what we’re going to do tomorrow.”
She gave a despondent nod. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
Walking close, I guided her into the elevator, just as a guy in a suit, with his phone to his ear, jostled me into her.
“Hey, watch it,” I snapped, my arm going around her, pulling her close. “You okay, Sunshine?”
The endearment slipped out before I could stop it. The word felt natural in the moment. She’d been the bright spot in an otherwise dark situation and seeing her so worn down made me want to comfort her in any way that I could.
I dropped my hand to my side and wrapped my fingers around hers, throwing a glare at the guy whose eyebrows were raised in question.
Charity took a sharp breath, and when I looked at her, she was staring up at me with wide eyes. Her lips were parted on a soft gasp, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to form words. We didn’t need to make a deal out of it. “I could eat a burger. What about you?”
She nodded slowly. “A burger sounds good. Maybe wine, too.”
As the elevator doors closed, the guy on the phone started talking, his loud voice bouncing off the metal and glass.
“I told him it’s five hundred k or nothing… exactly… stupid idiot.”
Rolling my eyes had Charity giggling, and when she leaned into me, my stomach did a loop-the-loop. It was such a small thing, but I felt like it bridged a chasm that had been getting wider.
Once we got to our floor, I led her along the corridor toward our rooms and when we reached hers, I hesitated. Taking a beat, I guided us to the room next door—my room.
If she was surprised she didn't show any sign, but followed me, her hand still in mine. I fumbled for my key card with my free hand, sliding it into the lock. The door clicked open and I pushed it wide, finally letting go of her hand to gesture her inside.
She stepped past me into the room, and I followed, letting the door close behind us with a soft thud. For a moment we both just stood there, the reality of being alone in my hotel room settling between us. Then Charity moved toward the dresser, her movements casual as she looked around.
“Room service menu?” she asked, running her fingers along the dresser top.
I expected to feel weird or awkward, but watching her move through my space, I only had one overriding emotion, happiness that she was there. It felt right. When her fingers brushed over the top of my bottle of cologne, my breath stuttered because it felt like an actual soft touch on my skin.
She turned to me and grinned. “That’s expensive cologne. I knew you smelled good but didn’t realize that was the one making you so delicious.”
I couldn’t help smiling, mainly because she thought I smelled good. Ridiculous how your ego blossomed at the smallest of things. Especially when there was a beautiful woman involved.
“Okay,” I said, flashing a smile. “Burgers.”
“Well,” I said, pausing to take a swig from the bottle of wine before passing it to Charity, “today was a bust. As successful as knitting fog.”
There was a small giggle before the glug of wine as Charity tipped the bottle and took a drink because it appeared we’d moved our friendship onto the stage of sharing alcohol. How we’d ended up sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, sharing a bottle of wine, I had no idea, but I liked it.
I was so chill, it made me think it might be a great alternative to yoga for anyone who didn’t look great in leggings.
Bringing her knees up, Charity rested her cheek on them, peeping at me through her lashes with blue eyes, heavy with a mixture of alcohol and disappointment.
“I do appreciate your efforts, though.” She wrapped an arm around her shins. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this.”
Frowning, I reached for the wine. “I didn’t have to do anything. I wanted to help.”
“Yes, but it can’t have been on your most important things to do this week list.” She shrugged. “And that’s my fault.”
I paused the bottle at my mouth. “Why is it your fault?”
“Well, you’re here because of me. Because I insisted on coming here to find her.”
“There’s only one reason we’re here, Charity, and that’s Faith.” The wine was starting to make everything soft at the edges. The bedside light cast a dreamlike glow over the room that smelled of food, wine, and promises that were still waiting to be offered. “Everything is down to Faith, not you.”
“But—”
“Hey.” I laid a hand on her shoulder. “Stop blaming yourself for everything your sister does. She’s picked her path and it’s not down to you that it’s a bumpy one.”
Silence fell as we studied each other, no awkwardness—just two people trying to figure each other out, was my guess, determining whether the path we took toward each other was straight or had obstacles.
Watching Charity watch me, I felt my muscles ease and the continuous pain in my chest melt into the cracks of my existence.
“I’ve started to realize that taking the blame for someone else’s choices just holds you back,” I finally told her.
Lifting her head a little, Charity narrowed her eyes, silently thoughtful for a beat, until she finally said, “Surely, you can’t mean when your son passed?”
My empty laugh echoed inside the bottle as I lifted it to my lips.
“I didn't blame myself for that, Charity, I blamed myself for Mallory's grief.
If I hadn't asked her to be my girlfriend …
if I hadn't bought cheap condoms … I feel like it was me who put her in the position of having to say goodbye to our child.”
“Kind of takes two people for that to happen,” she said, her hand briefly touching my arm. “She wouldn't have said yes to anything she didn't want to do, Liam. Everything that happened isn't all on you. Don't shoulder everything.”
“Sunshine,” I said gently, “when's the last time you said no to something you didn't want to do?”
The question hung between us, and I watched something flicker across her face before she glanced away.
After taking a sip, I passed the wine to her.
The simple act of sharing felt oddly natural, like we'd done this a hundred times before, even though I couldn't remember the last time I'd let anyone this close to my pain.
“Yeah, I know. It didn't take me long to figure that one out.” Memories started to filter through—the dark days and hours, wondering, and wishing. “I mean, it is Mallory's life choices I blame myself for, but mainly because I couldn't help her.”
“Why? What did she do?”
“I'm guessing you realize that Mallory was the family friend who stayed with Mrs. Rodriguez.”
She shrugged. “I kind of figured.”
“Yeah, well it went the same way as Faith’s visit.
” The memories didn’t have cobwebs that needed dusting off, they were clear and precise.
Like yesterday. Like I was back there again.
They were sharp and painful. “Mallory left after a few days. She said she was going to stay with her aunt in Boulder. Said she needed a fresh start.”
I let my head drop back against the wall, with a quiet thud, hoping that maybe the plain white ceiling might give me the courage to continue. Or maybe even answers, because I sure hadn’t come up with any in fourteen years.
“Why do you blame yourself for her starting again?” Charity asked. Her hand dropped to the floor between us, fingers splayed.
“Because I should have followed her. Made sure she got there safely. Been sure she was settled.”
“You were seventeen, Liam. It wasn’t down to you.”
“I should have done something, though, because she never turned up there.” Charity gasped, the color blanching from her wine-flushed cheeks. “No, nothing happened to her,” I added quickly. “Well, not then at least.”
“So, when?”
“She lied and went to New York instead. Her aunt didn’t tell her folks for three days that she hadn’t turned up so by the time they figured out she was in New York almost three weeks had gone by.”
“What happened?” The sympathy in her eyes almost broke me. Like she already knew the outcome and why it had held me hostage for so many years. “What did they do?”
“Nothing.” The word felt like a hammer blow against my breastbone. Just as it always did. “They did absolutely nothing. They didn't tell me but let me believe she was living with her aunt. Left me hoping that one day she'd unblock my number, come home, and we could grieve together.”