Chapter Thirty-Eight
The sun shines through my lace curtains, and I roll onto my side with a groan. My head pounds like a steady drum. I was never the kind of girl who looked ahead at her life and wanted to be in certain places by a certain age. If I had thought about it, I probably wouldn’t have imagined myself living with my mom at twenty-six. But there are many things about my life I wouldn’t have anticipated.
I throw a robe over my pajamas, my feet heavy as I head downstairs toward the smell of coffee. I remember Liam walking in after we spoke, the gift he gave me and refused to take back, my mom driving me home and tucking me in. Some of the other details are a bit foggy, and I was too overwhelmed to put everything together.
My mom glances at me, concern etched into the delicate lines around her eyes. She holds up the pendant Liam gave me last night, her fingers gently tracing the intricate design.
“This locket, Birdie.” She opens it up and presses it closed. “Where did it come from? It looks exactly like the one…”
Her voice trails off, but her worry is clear. We don’t often talk about that day—the one where everything changed. I was never the same after that. None of us were.
My mom spent hours with me in that pasture searching for the necklace. I’d come home from school, we’d visit my grandma at the hospital, and then we’d get our tall boots on and head outside to search until nightfall. She wanted to stop well before I did, but I thought if we could find that locket, maybe I’d get a piece of my grandma back. My mom knew it was illogical, but she still came out with me every day to search. I didn’t give up for months, but when the first snowfall came, I knew it was gone forever.
“I know,” I say, resting my elbows on the kitchen island. “It’s exactly how I remember it.”
“But it can’t be the one my…”
Her voice trails off.
“That Grandma gave you. Can it?”
“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “It was Liam’s birthday gift to me. He gave it to me last night.”
“Oh, Birdie girl.”
My mom narrows her eyebrows and hands it to me. I put it back in the box.
“How did he know?” She presses her hands into the counter until they turn white.
“I must have mentioned something to him.” I shrug.
I downplay it all, but I remember the night I opened up to Liam about my grandma’s accident and the locket that I was never able to get out of my mind. He’s the first person I shared any of this with.
“You told him about the accident? About your beautiful grandma?”
“It’s no big deal, Mom. We talked about a lot of things.” I fix my eyes downward on the mug in front of me.
“Oh, honey.” She grabs a cup of coffee and sits at the circular table in the corner by the large bay window. “It is a big deal.”
“Birdie,” she continues, tracing her finger along the rim of her mug. “You are the very best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I worry about you. We’re so close that you don’t often let other people into that beautiful soul of yours. You wear your pain like a shield. So the fact that you told a boy about the worst day of your life is a very big deal—in all the best ways.”
“You’re being dramatic.” I hop up onto the counter, crossing my feet at the ankles. “It’s you and me against the world, Mom. I don’t need anyone else.”
She shakes her head. “That’s what worries me, Birdie. Maybe we are too close. I spent my entire life trying to protect you, and I should have spent more time letting you go.”
“Mom.” I press my palms into my eyes, rubbing in a circular motion. “You’ve been my safe place. All those times that Dad would disappoint me and never follow through, you were there. You’re the one who told me I needed to protect my heart.”
Her face falls, and it’s then I realize she’s crying. She pats her hand against her wet cheek.
“Birdie,” she says slowly, as if the sound of my name pains her. “Your dad was the worst. He never had it in him to live up to what you deserved in a parent.”
She grabs a tissue and dabs the corners of her eyes. “Sometimes I think about what Liam does for a living. What he did for the nursing home. He calculates risk. He thought of all the different scenarios, all the roads we could travel down. And based on those data points, we came together to make a decision—risk versus reward.”
My mom looks out the kitchen window and lets out a heavy sigh.
“If your dad had let you down once or twice,” she continues, “I’d say, open up your heart. He’ll figure it out. No one is perfect, and everyone is capable of letting someone else down. But it was hundreds of times, Birdie. So yes, I did want you to protect your heart from someone who was never going to be enough for you, never what you deserved. But I never wanted you to close yourself off to getting close to anyone.”
I hop down from the counter. My head is fuzzy, and I wasn’t prepared for this conversation, especially so early in the morning.
“Birdie.” I glance over my shoulder as my mom pushes away from the window. “You get to make the decisions in your life. You’re an adult, and at this point, I’m just as much your friend as I am your mom.”
“But honey,” she continues, “if you’re going to write off every person who’s disappointed you once or twice, you’re going to live a very lonely life. That boy… well.” She points at the box with the locket.
“If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is,” she says. “And not just because it’s beautiful, but because he clearly listens to you and understands what’s important. Please don’t block everyone out of your life because I chose the world’s worst dad for you.”
I turn away from my mom and wipe a tear. When our eyes meet, she stares at me.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask.
She wraps her arms around me and whispers into my ear, “I can’t answer that for you.”
The cemetery remains my peaceful place. Maybe there’s something wrong with me that I’d rather be among the dead than the living, but after talking to my mom, this is where I know I need to be. I can’t stop thinking of Liam. I told him things I never shared with friends I’ve known much longer or boys I’ve dated.
When he didn’t show up at the gala, I completely wrote him off. I’ve always had a zero threshold for error. I blame my life for that. But it’s never been about Liam.
It’s always been about me. Broken, scared me.
I slip off my shoes, letting the long grass gently massage the soles of my feet. My fingers trace the cool surface of a headstone, and I glance at the name engraved: Beatrice Bergland.
“Hey there, Beatrice,” I say aloud, the only person in the entire cemetery. “It appears we share a name. Maybe you’re a relative of this man I can’t stop thinking about. Liam. His dad’s a jerk, but his grandparents, Sunny and Sis, are the most amazing people.”
I sit next to the headstone and study the details of the stone and the etched words. “If you are related, you’d be proud of him. He’s a pretty decent human.”
A huge gust of wind comes out of nowhere.
“Hi, Beatrice,” I say. “Thanks for visiting me.”
The large oak trees cast cool shadows over me, shielding me from the sun. I lie back and gaze up at the billowy white clouds drifting across the sky.
“Okay,” I finally say after lying there for much too long. “Enough.”
By the time I get back to the house, it’s well after dinnertime, and I’ve already blown off Bob’s visit to the Hurst haunted house. Hopefully, he’ll understand. I shower and decide to go to the nursing home to explain to Bob why I didn’t show up for him today and maybe start organizing the donation room. When I was there yesterday, boxes were everywhere, and it needed some serious attention.
I walk into the main lobby but avoid seeing the staff by slipping through the chapel and down the long, deserted hallway. I reach the supply room at the end and quietly slip inside, unnoticed. The donations are a reminder of the love that surrounds this place. I gently close the door behind me.
“Birdie?” Liam’s low voice rings out, and I cover my mouth to stifle a scream. My heart races.
He’s in the corner, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. A box is open beside him, with piles of clothes separated—one for men, one for women.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I say, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Volunteering,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “My first task. What are you doing here?”
I move a box aside and sit against the wall, positioned perpendicular to him. He hands me a box cutter, and I slice it open, spilling the clothes onto the floor.
“Same as you, I guess,” I say. “I came in here yesterday and couldn’t deal with the mess. We’ve caught the attention of the entire community, and donations are pouring in. But we don’t have the time or resources to deal with it.”
Liam nods and continues making neat piles. We work in silence for a few moments, sorting clothes, our breathing the only sound between us.
“I have to ask.” I turn to face Liam, and he pauses. “If you turned down the New York job, what do you plan to do for a living?”
“It’s still in the works,” he says. “I filed the paperwork and am waiting to hear back from the state. But I’m starting my own consulting firm, something like an actuary. Very similar to what I did here at the nursing home. But instead of just laying out different risks, I want to help businesses like this one survive.”
“There aren’t enough businesses locally,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “How will you make a living off that?”
Liam leans back and presses his head against the wall. “I’ve thought of that. I plan to stick to the Midwest initially. I’ve been doing research all summer. You’d be surprised at how many companies need someone like me.”
“And to think you helped us for free,” I say. “The services you provided for the nursing home—how much would that normally cost?”
Liam chuckles. “More than your mom could have afforded. Good thing this place is special to me.”
I stare down at the barely worn women’s clothes on my lap. Some of them still have tags on them. We could set up an entire room here where residents could come in and pick out their wardrobe.
“What does your dad think about this idea of yours?”
Liam presses his lips together. “Larry and I aren’t talking at the moment, which is awkward because he and my mom are here for the holiday weekend and staying at the cottage with me. He’s cut me off financially, which I fully expected.”
“Ouch,” I say. “But this is what you want? You’re at peace with your decision?”
Liam nods. “I feel like I woke up at some point this summer, took stock of my life, and wondered who the hell I was making decisions for—because they weren’t for me.”
I look down at the pile, then move it out of my way. I cross my legs and face Liam.
“But New York…”
“It was my dream.” He stretches his long legs out. “But dreams change. People change. The interview went great. I clicked with the CEO, and by the time dinner had finished that Thursday evening, he’d offered me the job. It would have been more money than I’d ever dreamed of making.”
“Yet you’re here,” I say, avoiding his gaze.
“Millions of people live there, yet it felt empty,” he says, running his fingers along the fabric of a blouse in his hand. “You weren’t there.”
“Liam.” I hold my breath for a moment before exhaling. “You can’t go from making decisions for your dad to making them for me.”
Liam runs his tongue against the inside of his lip. “Trust me, Birdie. This decision was solely for me.”
All the reasons I’ve kept pushing him away this summer swirl in my mind. He’s leaving, and I’ve been afraid to get attached. He missed an event that meant a lot to me. But now, those reasons seem insignificant, almost nonexistent. The only thing left is my stubbornness—my reluctance to admit I’ve been wrong about so much and to finally allow myself to feel what I truly feel.
“Good,” I finally say.
“Birdie.” Liam presses his lips together. “I was being honest when I said I was scrappy. My feelings for you—they haven’t changed. I don’t think they ever will. But if you want me to back off, I will. Just say the word.”
The moment has arrived—the one where I must choose whether to put myself out there and take the risk, or keep dancing around this uncertainty, fearing that I might eventually get hurt.
I push a pile of clothes between us out of the way and crawl toward him. Liam helps lift me until I’m straddling his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I nuzzle my face into the perfect space between his neck and shoulder. My body melts into the solid warmth of Liam beneath me.
“There you are,” he whispers, pressing his lips tenderly to my temple. “I’ve missed you.”
We hold each other, our chests moving together, our breaths slowing as I sink farther into his embrace. His hand trails down my back, holding me close.
“I love you,” I whisper into his soft skin.
Liam pulls back and cups my face. “You love me like you want to be my friend and have days at the lake? Or like you love me, love me?”
I laugh and cup his face, too. His eyes searching mine make me feel exposed, so I lean in and press my lips to his.
“Both.”
Liam runs his hands down my arms until he grips my hips. I stretch back to reach the door of the small storage room and hit the lock button. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and our lips meet in a passionate kiss. He lifts my shirt, then pauses, his hand brushing against the pendant he gave me.
“You’re wearing it,” he says softly. “Beautiful.”
“I don’t think I ever said thank you.” I hold my hand over his. “My grandma would love you, too.”
“I love you like I’ll do everything in my power to never hurt or disappoint you,” he says, kissing my neck.
“I love you like I will work to build trust with you every single day so you’ll know I’m going to be a constant for you, and never someone who will let you down,” he continues, kissing the other side of my neck.
“I love you in ways that I hope you’ll never again feel alone in your experiences or traumas because I’ll help carry the burden of them.” Liam kisses my lips, and my heart swells with something foreign and heavy.
Hope.