34
34
Liam
A glass of whiskey slid across the table I was sitting at, going over the background checks on the new girls who had applied for a job and made it past Tex’s approval. I glanced up to see Tex move into the other entrance of the circular booth to sit across from me.
“Country’s coming home from the hospital today. Surgery went well, and the damage to his nose will heal for the most part. It’ll never look the same,” he said, taking a drink from his own glass.
I’d already gotten the text from Brick, telling me this, but I nodded.
Liberty and I had left early the next morning after I spoke to Brick and Jars. She didn’t know Brick had had to take Country to the hospital because he couldn’t breathe through his nose. I didn’t want anyone saying anything to her about it either. She’d worry, and I didn’t think I could stand her worrying about another man. But more importantly, I didn’t like the idea of her stressing over anything. It wasn’t good for the baby.
“Kinda wish I’d been there,” he drawled. “It’s been a long time since you put a brother down for disrespect. Just like the good ole days. Hotheaded, mean-as-hell Liam, bashing in skulls.”
I picked up the glass and took a drink.
“He had been warned,” I said. I wasn’t the same reckless idiot I’d been back then.
Tex nodded. “True. Back in the day, there was no warning.”
I held up one of the background checks. “This one is trouble. I don’t care that you noted she can shoot ping-pong balls from her cunt across the stage. Not worth it. Read it if you need to, but she’s a no,” I told him, then tossed the paper down in front of him.
He let out a disappointed sigh, but didn’t pick it up. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and studied me. I wasn’t in the mood for whatever he wanted to talk about. I already had a feeling I knew.
“When are you gonna admit that this woman has you hooked?” he asked.
He was like a dog with a bone. I’d known this was about Liberty. He couldn’t seem to keep his nose out of my business.
“Don’t see how this concerns you,” I said. “Focus on the new hires.”
“Well, seeing as how I had to fire two of them because they couldn’t seem to stop coming on to you and the rest I’ve had to warn not to touch you unless they want the same fate, I feel like I’m invested.”
“It’s my personal life. Not club business,” I retorted, trying to study the next background check.
“You broke a brother’s nose so bad that he needed reconstructive surgery. Your personal life is bleeding into club business.”
I slammed the paper down and glared at him. “He had been warned,” I repeated.
Tex nodded and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “I’m not saying it was wrong. I’m saying a woman is what brought out the beast. So, just say it, you want to keep her? You want that sweet, little, young baby momma in your bed permanently. The sooner you admit it, the better you’ll feel. I’m trying to help you here.”
I threw back the rest of my whiskey. Hearing him talk about Liberty in my bed permanently caused shit inside me that I was working on controlling to flare up. It was hard to tamp down.
Hell, I liked Country. He was a good man. But in that moment, I could have killed him. Simply because he fit her better than I did. He wouldn’t be an old man too soon. They were at the same stage in life. And I hated him for that. For being what I wasn’t.
“Yes,” I ground out. “She’s different. I feel …” I paused, not sure I could say the words out loud. I felt guilty, thinking them.
For most of my adult life, I’d believed that I’d only love one girl. No one would touch my heart the way Etta had. And until now, no one had come close to even causing a ripple.
Liberty hadn’t touched my heart. She’d placed a hook in it and taken it. When she was tucked in my arms, I didn’t wish it were Etta. I completely forgot Etta. Liberty’s smile, those honey-brown eyes, the way her stomach looked, rounded with our child—it owned me. But saying that meant facing the other side of it. I was sixteen years older than her. Sure, right now, I was fit, had my health, I could fuck her until she passed out. But how long did I have before those things started to fade? What happened when she was still youthful and full of life while I was getting back pains or struggling with an erection—or worse, I’m diagnosed with some fatal illness and she had to give up her best years so that she could nurse me until I died?
I’d thought of it all. I lay awake at night, going over every-fucking-thing that could happen.
“What do you feel?” Tex asked when I didn’t finish.
“Like I need her to breathe.”
Tex’s eyes widened, and then a slow smile crept over his face. “Goddamn,” he muttered.
My sentiments exactly.
If there was a God, he sure as fuck wasn’t a fan of mine. I had believed that the love of my life was my first love, and I’d lost her, so I’d live the rest of my life, not knowing how it felt to have… this. To go to bed at night, holding someone I didn’t want to live without; to feel joy from the sound of her laughter; to have a family and watch our kids grow. I had made my peace with it.
Until Liberty.
Now, that life was all I thought about. I was mourning something I knew I couldn’t keep. It would be selfish to do so, and I couldn’t be selfish with her.
“Then, you’re gonna put a ring on it,” he said.
My chest burned, and I wished he’d brought the bottle of whiskey over here if we were gonna have this conversation.
I shook my head. “No, I’m not.”
Tex dropped his glass onto the table. “Why the fuck not?”
“I don’t think I can have her and lose her. I wouldn’t be able to survive that.”
Tex sat back, staring at me like he didn’t understand it. What was so hard for him to get? Did he not see it?
“You’re already planning a future breakup that might not happen? I don’t want you slamming your fist in my face, too, but, Prez, that’s weak. There’s a country song about this, probably several, but the point is, you don’t want to miss the best thing that ever happened to you because you’re afraid. Yeah, it might fucking end.” He paused, then let out a sigh. “And she could die. You survived that before. Don’t let it be what holds you back.”
It took me a minute to figure out what he was saying, and then it dawned on me that he thought that I was afraid I’d lose her like I had Etta. This had nothing to do with Etta. Yes, I had loved her, but I’d been a kid. I wasn’t that kid anymore. I’d lived life.
I knew that every day was a gift and we weren’t promised tomorrow. But this wasn’t about death taking her from me. This was about the inevitable—time. I would grow old, and she would be years behind me. Men her age would come along, and the old man she was shackled to would be a weight.
“One day, she’ll turn around, and I’ll be seventy years old, and she … won’t be.”