Chapter Three
Liam
My muscles burn as I finish my workout, the kind of slow ache that tells me I’ve done something good for my body—at least, that’s what I tell myself.
Today, it’s all about mobility: stretching, dumbbells, balancing drills.
Sounds simple, but it takes everything out of me, mentally and physically.
Pretending I’m the same Liam I’ve always been? That’s exhausting, too.
“You want to grab a bite to eat?” Zach, my trainer, nods toward the door.
I hesitate. All I want is to crash at home, but I’m not ready for the questions that would follow if I turn him down. No one knows I’m sick—well, besides my parents and Izzy. Until I figure out my next move, it has to stay that way. “Sure,” I say, nodding like it’s no big deal.
We head across town to Dee’s Clean Eats, the usual spot, where Zach insists on grilled chicken and veggies.
I order a bowl and follow him to a table by the window, watching the stream of tourists along the cobblestone path.
Ski season’s in full swing, which means crowds are everywhere.
Sometimes that energy is comforting; today, it’s just noise, reminding me how out of sync I feel. Without snowboarding… who even am I?
“You ready for the competition this weekend?” Zach asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I shrug. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He grins, leaning back. “Does it ever get old?”
“What?” I look at him, trying to focus.
“Snowboarding,” he says, laughing.
I pause, feeling the weight of the question. “Sometimes,” I admit. But that’s a half-truth, like most things in my life lately.
He laughs. “Doesn’t seem to stop the women from flocking to you, though.”
I glance out the window, the easy response escaping my lips automatically. “Just one of the perks, I guess.” But even as I say it, the words feel hollow.
Our food arrives, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Small talk feels like climbing a mountain these days. I clear my throat, searching for a topic. “How’s your mom doing?”
Zach’s face softens. “Better. Her last scan showed the tumors are shrinking.”
“That’s good,” I say, nodding, though I’m not sure what else to say.
He fills the silence, oblivious to my discomfort. “Anyway, I think we should focus on cardio tomorrow. Lon mentioned your runs were slower than usual yesterday.”
Lon Schlonski, my coach since I was twelve. The guy knows my movements like his own heartbeat. Of course, he’s noticed my drop in performance; he’s known me nearly two decades. It’s a wonder he hasn’t pieced together that something’s wrong.
I shrug it off. “Just a bug. That cold going around, you know?” The lies come easier than I thought they would.
Zach’s gaze shifts suddenly. “Don’t look now, but you-know-who just walked in.”
I frown. “Who?”
His eyes widen. “Liam.” He gives me a knowing look. “You-know-who.”
Before I can process, a familiar voice cuts through the din, high and pointed. “Liam.”
I glance over to see Lyla, my ex, standing there in a tailored gray blazer and black slacks, looking every bit the high-powered exec. The woman who ended things because I wouldn’t put a ring on her finger. In hindsight, maybe I would’ve… if she hadn’t made it all feel so forced.
“Hey,” I manage, watching her flip her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “How have you been?”
“Good,” she says with a faint smile, ignoring Zach’s grimace. “I’ve been traveling for work, but I’m back now.”
I muster a polite nod. “How’s advertising?”
Taking that as an invitation, she slides right into the seat beside Zach. He inches away, shooting me a look of sympathy before busying himself with his phone.
“It’s great,” she replies, tapping her nails on the table, her gaze darting between us. I force myself to ask, “Where were you traveling?”
“Oh, you know, here and there,” she says, her tone casual as she digs into a spinach salad.
“Sounds… interesting,” I mumble, clearing my throat.
Zach suddenly stands, phone in hand. “Totally lost track of time. I have, uh, another client to get to.” He’s obviously lying, but at this point, I’m not sure I blame him.
“See you tomorrow,” I say, watching him escape out the door.
Lyla shifts into Zach’s spot, her eyes fixed on me. “How’ve you been? I remember you were dealing with some stuff a few months ago.”
I swallow hard, caught off guard. I forgot she was around when the symptoms started—the dizziness, the blurred vision. “Just stress,” I lie, the answer automatic now.
In truth, I almost proposed to Lyla. I thought about settling down, buying a ring.
But then, I thought of my parents—the way they laugh, bicker, and still make out like teenagers.
I don’t want to spend my life with someone I can’t have that with.
And Lyla? I was never sure enough about her to take that leap.
“You don’t lead a very stressful life,” she says, cocking an eyebrow.
“What are you talking about?” I laugh, brushing it off. “I put my body through hell every day.”
Her lips press together, and she leans closer. “I know we didn’t end on the best terms, but I still care about you, Liam. If something’s going on, I hope you know you can talk to me.”
I scratch the back of my neck, my instincts telling me to guard my words.
I could never prove it, but I always had a feeling Lyla leaked stories about us.
After we met, suddenly my face was everywhere, and I didn’t have a moment of peace.
She worked in advertising, after all. Maybe her connection to me was just another piece of business.
“I’m good,” I say, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
She studies me for a moment, then bites her lip, leaning closer. “So… what are you doing right now?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing,” I say truthfully.
She smirks, her dark eyes glinting. “I heard that post-breakup sex is… mind-blowing.”
I let out a slow breath. “I don’t know, Lyla. That might complicate things.”
She grins, shrugging off my hesitation. “Come on, it’s just one afternoon, Liam. No strings. I know how you feel about commitment.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. She’s pulled this line on me before. The whole “Whatever Liam wants, Liam gets” routine.
“Come on.” She leans in, her eyes daring me. “What could it hurt?”
A lot, I know. But after everything these past few weeks, a distraction might not be the worst thing. I let out a breath, finally meeting her gaze.
“Yeah,” I say slowly, my resolve slipping. “What could it hurt?”
***
I zip up my jeans, glancing back at Lyla’s sleeping form tangled in the sheets, her soft breaths filling the quiet of the room. I know I should stay, leave some kind of polite goodbye, but it’s close to midnight. And if I don’t check in soon, Mom’s going to call half the county searching for me.
I slip out of the room and down the hall, careful not to let the door click too loud behind me. Out in the cold night air, I take a breath, feeling the weight of it all—a moment’s escape that only leaves me heavier. When I reach my car, my phone rings, breaking the silence.
“Yes, Mom?” I answer without even looking at the screen.
“Um… it’s Lyla,” her voice comes through, groggy but sharp enough to knock the wind out of me.
“Oh.” I swallow hard, shifting on my feet. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t think you’d leave without saying goodbye.”
“I thought about it,” I admit, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “But you said it was just… you know, just sex.”
She lets out a slow yawn, and I hear the hint of a smile. “It was. And you have to admit, breakup sex lives up to the hype.”
A chuckle escapes me, even as something aches deep in my chest. “It was… something.”
There’s a pause on her end, and I can almost picture her, sitting up, pulling her hair back with that same measured grace.
“Look… I should have said this before, but I’m sorry.
For everything. I’m not usually… I don’t know…
crazy like that. I’m supposed to be the ambitious, level-headed one, not the girl who loses her mind over some guy. ”
“It’s okay,” I say, hoping she hears that I mean it.
She sighs. “I miss you, Liam.”
There it is—the one thing I knew would eventually come. It’s never just sex. Not with her.
My phone buzzes in my hand again, and I glance down. Mom. Just in time.
“Sorry, Lyla,” I murmur. “I really have to go.”
I hang up, switching the line to Mom. “Hey.”
“Well, you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. That’s a relief.”
“Alive and well,” I confirm, easing into my car with a tired smile.
“And not home,” she points out, her tone thick with that motherly mix of worry and exasperation.
“I’m on my way,” I laugh. “Literally two blocks from the house.”
“Drive safe,” she says as she lets out a relieved breath. “I’ll be here, waiting.”
“Ah, nothing like being treated like I’m sixteen again.”
“A hormone-raging sixteen-year-old,” she corrects with a chuckle.
I shake my head, grateful for her voice on the other end of the line. “I know it’s because you care.”
A pause, then, “Have you decided if you’re going to compete this weekend?”
I take a breath, my hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Yeah. I’m going to do it. One last run.”
“And after?” she prompts gently.
“We’ll figure it out after,” I say, though the uncertainty digs deep.
“I love you, Liam,” she murmurs, the sound soothing in a way only a mother’s can be. “And I know everything’s going to work out just the way it’s meant to.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I try to believe her. I really do.
But as I drive through the empty streets toward home, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, with no clear way forward.