Chapter 42
forty-two
not the night for Alan Rickman
Maya
Alan Rickman’s deep voice flowed from the portable speaker on my nightstand, his recitation of Shakespeare’s sonnets wrapping around me like a warm blanket. But tonight, not even being serenaded by Alan Rickman could calm me.
My heart pounded as I frantically shoved clothes into the open duffel bag on my bed, my pulse so loud in my ears it drowned out the crackling speaker. With an irritated sigh, I turned it off.
I didn’t need to be soothed; I needed urgency. I had to be ready to leave at first light.
With enough money to pay for a ride to the nearest town, I’d be okay for at least a while. Once there, I could catch a bus to … well, anywhere, really. It didn’t matter much where I went, since I wouldn’t have anywhere to live when I got there anyway.
For a fraction of a second, I considered calling my parents and asking if I could crash with them for a few weeks, but I talked myself out of it. I already knew what they would say. They’d made it crystal clear the minute I turned eighteen. They didn’t want me around.
And honestly? I don’t know that I blamed them. I wouldn’t want me around, either. I was no good to anyone.
The image of Nana wandering alone through the snow floated into my brain, so vivid it hurt. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over me, stealing my breath.
Nana needed a proper caregiver. One who wouldn’t let her wander off in the middle of the night. Someone who wouldn’t fail her like I had.
If I stayed, I knew I’d try to convince her to stay in her apartment, and that wasn’t what was best for her.
After tonight, we knew it wasn’t safe. It would be better if I removed myself from the situation so she could move into assisted living and get on with the rest of her life.
She’d be better off without me around, just like my parents had been.
I grabbed a sweater and shoved it into my bag, blinking back tears while my chest squeezed painfully.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Crap!” My heart tried to launch itself out of my throat at the unexpected interruption. Spinning to face the door, I found Liam, his arms crossed, with a deep scowl on his face.
God, his eyes were so blue. I’d miss those eyes. And the man they belonged to, of course. He’d turned out to be so much more than brilliant blue eyes. So much more than I’d expected.
But now it’s over. You blew it, Maya.
“Where are you going?” He demanded, his voice low.
I swallowed hard, forcing a detached expression onto my features. I refused to let on that I’d miss him. But … he’s supposed to be with Nana right now.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, my melancholy switching to anger in a flash. “Where’s Nana? You’re supposed to be watching her.”
His jaw tightened. “She’s asleep. She’s fine.”
Panic eroded all rational thought, and I pushed past him, racing straight into Nana’s apartment, my breath hitching painfully in my chest. I lurched to a stop near Nana’s bed.
Thank god.
She still slept peacefully. Not out in the cold. Not lost. My chest shuddered as I blew out a breath. She’s safe.
No thanks to you, a snide voice in my head said. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the voice away. It wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.
When I returned to my room, I caught Liam inspecting my duffel bag.
He pulled out my Aliens Do It Better t-shirt.
Despite the tension thick in the air, a smile tugged at his lips.
I wondered whether he was remembering his first time at book club.
Tears stung my eyes as it hit me: it really was over now.
“I’m leaving,” I said, injecting false bravado into my voice. “It’s time for me to go.”
His smile vanished. “What do you mean you’re leaving?” His eyes darted around the room. “Where’s the guy who’s helping you?”
I forced a laugh. I didn’t deserve anyone’s help.
“I’m serious.” His brows knit together. “Who’s helping you leave?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard a man’s voice before I walked in,” he said, his jaw tightening. “Where is he?”
I stared at him, blinking as I tried to puzzle out what he was saying. He sounded … Was he … jealous? “You think I have a random guy in here?”
His shoulders stiffened. “I don’t know, Maya.
You freaked out earlier, then I heard a man’s voice in here.
So, tell me—who is he? Is he the other guy?
Or am I?” He searched the room now, peering under the bed and glancing out the window.
“Huh. There’s no one there,” he muttered, as though genuinely surprised.
“I could have sworn I heard a man talking.” He rubbed his chin as he half-heartedly searched for the mystery man he thought was hiding in my room.
Choking back a laugh, I grabbed my phone and pressed play on my Rickman playlist. The speaker picked up mid-sonnet:
“I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;”
Liam stilled.
“I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.”
I turned the recording off. “Is that what you heard?”
He rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “Ugh. Yes, that’s him.” His face fell, and he added, “Maya, I’m so sorry. I was rereading your messages from earlier. I panicked, and … I heard a man’s voice and thought you had someone here.”
I should have been mad. Hell, I should have torn him a new one for accusing me of having another man here, especially after everything that had happened between us. But I didn’t have the energy to feel indignant about his accusation or to care about his apology.
Not tonight. Not after what happened with Nana. Not after my own mind had been screaming at me for hours about what a failure I was.
I heaved a sigh, shoved my duffel bag to the floor, and flopped backward onto the bed, suddenly so drained I could sleep for the next fifty years. Liam’s soft footsteps announce his approach before the mattress dips beside me. For a moment, we sit in silence.
“So…?” he prodded, his hand resting on my arm, his palm warm on my skin as he teased the edge of my shirt sleeve. “Will you tell me what you were listening to?”
“That was part of my Alan Rickman playlist.” My voice was flat, emotionless as I explained. ““Sonnet 130”. My favourite.”
He huffed a muted laugh and shook his head. “You and your Alan Rickman. I should have known.”
“Hey, don’t disrespect the Rickman reverie.” I yawned, each word a chore. “He recorded audiobooks, voiced animated characters, did poetry readings … the works. There’s an Alan Rickman for pretty much every occasion.”
His gaze was heavy on me. “And you just … listen to them?”
Looking away, tipped my chin.
“Why?” he asked, his tone cautious. “The real reason this time. It has to be more than liking his voice.”
I hesitated. As far as anyone else knew, I listened to Alan Rickman because I liked his voice.
Other than Nana, I’d never told anyone the whole truth.
Even Andie and Sierra didn’t know the extent of it.
But I couldn’t think of a single reason not to tell Liam. Not when I’d be leaving in the morning.
“It’s depressing,” I warned, my voice low. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Liam laced his fingers through mine, rubbing his thumb along the side of my hand. His warm palm soothed my nervous energy, but I didn’t deserve comfort right now. “I want to know,” he said in a soft voice.
I dropped his hand and scooted to the head of the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. Liam followed, sitting beside me, his hands folded in his lap as he waited.
“On the evening of my eighteenth birthday, my parents kicked me out.”
Liam’s head snapped up. “They did what?”
“Okay, technically, they didn’t ‘kick me out’. It wasn’t a knockdown drag-out fight or anything.” I swallowed hard. “But the result was the same.”
He stared at me, his body rigid. “Why would they do that?”
I shifted, wrapping my arms more tightly around my legs. “My parents were really young when they had me,” I started, choosing my words carefully. “They had to move out of their parents’ homes and support themselves—and take care of me—before they’d made it out of tenth grade.”
Liam let out a low whistle. “Oh, shit. They were practically babies themselves.” His brow furrowed. “But why did that mean you had to leave when you were eighteen? Unless …” His eyes widened and he gasped. “They kicked you out for being pregnant? Those hypocrites.”
“What?! No!” A startled laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. “If there was one thing my teen parents taught me, it was the importance of using birth control correctly.”
His lips twitched. “That makes sense.”
“You have no idea.” I rolled my eyes. “They insisted I sit in the front row of every single sex ed class. The bathroom cabinet was always stuffed full of condoms, in case I needed them. And by stuffed, I mean we had every size, shape, and colour you can imagine. It was … excessive. They inspected and replaced them frequently, too, so there’d be no worry of an expired condom slipping into the rotation. ”
Liam snickered, but his expression sobered as he studied me. “Okay. They were young. So they wanted to make sure you wouldn’t end up in the same position they did. And?”
I braced myself. Here went nothing. “They figured they were done raising me when I turned eighteen.”
Liam’s brows pulled together.
“In their eyes,” I continued, fighting to keep my voice steady, “I was an adult, ready to take care of myself. They’d raised me, and now it was their turn to focus on each other.” Not that they hadn’t been doing that all along, anyway. I’d been almost invisible to them my whole life.
Liam exhaled roughly. “I mean … technically, I guess you were an adult. And plenty of kids move out right after high school.”
I let out a brittle laugh. “I was still in high school.”
His head jerked up. “What?”
I shifted on the bed, stretching my legs out before pulling them under me once more. “I wasn’t the oldest kid in my class, but I was darn close.”
Liam’s voice softened. “How long was it before you finished high school?”
“Just a couple of months.” I inhaled a shuddering breath. Dredging up these memories was like ripping open an old wound, making the pain fresh all over again. Fear gripped me almost the same way it did then. “It was nearing final exam time.”
His expression hardened. “And your parents wouldn’t let you stay until the end of the school year?”
I tugged at a loose thread on my bedspread. “I was too stunned to ask. They were so happy.” Truthfully, I doubted it would have mattered. They had been so sure that they were doing the right thing. “They were adamant I was leaving,” I whispered. “I didn’t bother to fight it.”
Liam stared at me now, his hands clenched into fists. “So … where did you go?”
I exhaled slowly, steeling myself against any reaction he might have to what I planned to confess. Here went nothing. “About that…”