Chapter 42
Liam
Medicine - Daughter
Walking up Charity’s driveway, I felt strange. My stomach was churning, a cross between anxiety and excitement. When she opened the door, her face pale, her lips in a thin, tight line, like it was underlining the worry on her face.
“Hey, Sunshine, what’s wrong?”
As she stood back to let me in, her expression morphed into something akin to fear.
The smile I was so used to was nowhere to be seen.
When the front door clicked behind us, silence echoed throughout the house, just the click of the heating and creaking of wood as it expanded.
It went on for a beat too long, with Charity biting on her lip, looking like the world was about to end.
“You’re worrying me now.” I placed a palm on each of her cheeks and tilted her head up, so I could look into her eyes. “Something is scaring you. What is it?”
Her Adam’s apple bobbed as wary blue pools looked everywhere but at me. She gripped my shirt as her chin wobbled.
“I’m so sorry, Liam.” Tears pricked at her eyelashes, and I thought I might puke.
“Are you ill? Is it something serious?”
She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a box. Her hand wrapped tightly around it, her knuckles white. I pulled her closer, inhaling the light, flowery aroma of her scent.
“Whatever it is, just tell me.”
Pulling free, she pressed the box against my chest. “I’m too scared to take it.”
Instantly, it hit me, what the box was, what she was too scared to take. Stumbling back a couple of steps, my hand held the test box against me, my head dropping down to look at it.
“Y-you don’t know yet?” Slowly my eyes met hers. “If you’re…”
I couldn’t say the word. It felt like if I said it I would be sixteen again and about to go through the worst time in my life.
Like I was about to press play on a repeat.
All I could see was Mallory lying in that hospital bed, pale and still, and Ezra so small and perfect but silent.
The memory hitting me like a physical blow.
“I have three more in the bathroom,” she explained.
“I was going to take them but then I thought maybe I should wait for you.” Fear ghosted across her eyes.
“I don’t know how it happened. We used condoms at first and I have the implant and…
” She shook her head. “I don’t know how this might have happened. ”
My hands began to shake, my breathing came in short, sharp bursts.
The room felt like it was closing in, my vision tunneling until all I could see was the damn box.
All I could hear was the box rattling. All I wanted to do was run.
I wanted to throw the box and forget it even existed.
“I can’t deal with this,” I whispered, aware that I was being a fucking dick.
Worse, I was a selfish cunt, but I couldn’t even look at her.
I thrust the box back, and Charity's face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears that made my chest feel like it was caving in, but I couldn't stop myself. “I’m sorry Charity, I can’t do this again. I can’t…
” I shook my head, linking my hands behind my neck as my heart thudded too fast and too hard.
“What if you are and… I’ve got to go.” Groaning from deep inside my chest, I turned and practically ran, my boots echoing with each stride I took.
Behind me, I heard the soft thud of the box hitting the floor again, and then nothing.
No footsteps following me, no voice calling my name.
Just the sound of my own cowardice in every heavy footfall.
The whole way home I almost turned around four or five times, knowing I was being unreasonable. Knowing that Charity deserved so much more. But no matter how much my mind told me that, I couldn’t do it. I kept going toward home.
When I saw Cole’s car in the driveway, I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or petrified. I wanted to talk to him about it, I needed to talk to someone. But I wasn’t that man. I didn’t talk to people about anything.
Except Charity.
She had become my confidante.
My person.
When I walked into the house, I heard banging around upstairs. The sound of opening and closing of drawers at least meant it wasn’t actual banging going on up there.
Wearily, I climbed the stairs, my heart thudding with each step. Petrified of what might be about to happen, about what could happen again.
Pausing halfway up, I inhaled the mix of cleaning products and furniture polish, Cole was having one of his cleaning days. He tended to do that. Live in a cesspit for weeks and then spend a couple of days cleaning and throwing whatever detritus he’d collected into the trash.
It was our normal and things might be about to change.
I was still standing on the stairs, contemplating the future, when Cole’s bedroom door swung open, and he appeared with an armful of dirty clothes. The moment that he spotted me he dropped them on the floor.
“What the fuck.” He moved quickly toward me, stopping on the top step. “Shit, you look like you just saw a murder. You didn’t, did you?”
Swallowing back bile, I shook my head, my fingers gripping the wooden banister so hard they were numb.
“Liam, you’re scaring me. What the fuck has happened?”
“Charity might be pregnant.” The words echoed, loud and hollow, jarring and jagged in my throat.
“Fuck.” My brother’s cheeks blew out as exhaled slowly. “I think we need a drink.”
He followed me down the stairs and into the living room.
“Sit. I’ll get us a whisky.”
All I could do was nod, still in shock, still wondering whether I was dreaming. A couple of minutes later Cole came back with two glasses that contained at least three fingers of whisky.
“Here.”
I took the drink, the ice cubes rattling against the glass as my hands shook. “Thanks.”
“So have you just found out?” He leaned forward, his hands between his open knees, holding his glass casually like my world wasn’t about to implode.
“Not yet. She hasn’t taken the test yet.”
Cole frowned. “You don’t actually know that she’s pregnant then?” I shook my head, the amber liquid scorching the back of my throat as I took a sip. “And you left her house before finding out?”
Now he said it, I realized it was stupid. I’d been stupid. I’d been selfish. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to stay or go back. Images of my boy wrapped in a pale blue blanket, still, silent and perfect were all I could think about.
“You know it won’t happen again, don’t you?
” Cole’s voice was low, like he was scared of saying it too loud in case it sent me crazy with grief.
Sent me into the black hole of despair that I had been slowly clawing myself out of.
“I have no idea what the chances are, but I’d say they’re low. Less than low.”
“I don’t know if it’s even that,” I admitted. “I don’t know whether I believe it will happen again. Like you say, what are the odds?” The whisky stung sourly on my tongue as I took another sip. Like it was admonishing me for being a coward.
“So?”
Leaning back in my chair, I put the whisky down on the side table, no longer able to stand the taste.
I looked at my brother, wondering how he managed to go through life with such ease.
Wishing that I had that luxury. The ability to laugh and joke without a huge black cloud tapping me on my shoulder, reminding me that life wasn’t all fucking bells and bows, that sometimes it was hard and dark and painful.
“What if I forget him,” I whispered, barely able to admit that was why I’d been such a cowardly prick. Ashamed that I’d even considered that another child might make me forget my son.
“You wouldn’t. No one would. You know Mom still celebrates his birthday in Florida.
She goes down to the shore and throws rose petals into the sea and says a little prayer for him.
” He raised an eyebrow as I looked at him quizzically.
“So no, he won’t ever be forgotten. Liam you won’t ever forget him.
He was your son. You think Mom or Dad would ever have forgotten you if that day you fell out of the tree in the back yard you’d died, instead of jumping up and saying you were fine, and it was just a scratch? ”
I thought about Charity’s parents and how they were still grieving over their baby daughter who’d died almost two decades ago.
They’d never forgotten her. That loss was still affecting their family, even affecting their daughter who came after.
I would never want that for my kids who came after.
Would never want them to feel second best or placeholders for what I’d lost.
“What if I fuck my future kids up because of my grief, because I can’t forget?”
Cole’s smile was slow and easy. “You won’t.”
“How do you know? You seem so sure about it.”
“Because despite what you think, brother, even though you think you’re a grumpy fuck up, you’re actually just a grumpy fucker.
You’re not fucked up. You’re dealing the best way you know how.
” He leaned forward and pointed at me with his glass.
“You do need help, though. You need someone to give you the tools to work alongside the grief instead of battling with it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Therapy.” It wasn’t a question. I’d heard it so many times from my family, how therapy would be good for me. How it would help me to come to terms with my loss. I’d never wanted to come to terms with it. I’d been happy battling through each day, remembering what I’d once had.
“Let me ask you a question. Do you love her?”
“I don’t know,” I scoffed, wincing at the lie. “It’s only been a few weeks.” Five weeks and two days.
“Can you see yourself being in love with her?”
That answer came easy. “Yes.”
“So, a child might not have been in your plans yet. It might be a little too soon, but it won’t alter what is inevitable.”
“Didn’t stop Mallory leaving, though, did it? I wasted a lot of hope on her.”
Cole chuckled low deep in his chest. “Charity is not Mallory, and like I said before, Mallory was not your soul mate.” He shrugged. “Now, I don’t know if Charity is, but I’d say that hope of yours is probably better invested in her than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Sighing heavily, I looked up at the ceiling, watching the patterns that the early evening sun cast through the windows. “I’ve been stupid and selfish, and I wouldn’t blame her if she told me to fuck off.”
Cole took a long swig of his drink and then looked at me, a satisfied grin on his face.
“I’m sure she will, but I’m also sure you’ll apologize and beg until you’re blue in the face and get her to accept.
” He placed his empty glass on the floor next to the fireplace.
“And then you’re going to get some help.
” That wasn’t a question either. It was as much of a demand as my brother was ever likely to give.
Nodding, I pushed out of my chair and walked to him. I squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks, Cole, I just hope I’m not a lost cause.”
“You’re not. You talked to me about it instead of sitting in your room staring at the walls like you usually do. That’s huge progress. I think you need to thank a certain blonde, who may or may not be carrying your child, for that.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe I wasn’t a lost cause and maybe Charity would see that and forgive me for being a selfish dick.