Chapter 23
Liam
My phone buzzes violently on the nightstand, dragging me from sleep. I fumble for it in the dark, my brain sluggish and disoriented. The room is unfamiliar for a second, then I remember.
Toronto. The West Peak. Avery.
I grab the phone and silence it before it can buzz again, squinting at the screen. The brightness makes my eyes water.
Mom.
Fuck.
I glance at Avery, curled on her side facing away from me, her breathing still deep and even. Good. I didn't wake her.
The phone stops buzzing. A notification pops up immediately. Three missed calls from my mother.
I check the time. Eight AM.
Three missed calls mean she wants something. Probably another family gathering I'm supposed to fly down for, where I sit awkwardly at a dinner table with people who feel like strangers.
I silence my phone completely and set it face down on the nightstand.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I turn to find Avery awake, watching me with concerned eyes. Her hair is messy from sleep, and she looks soft and warm and perfect.
“Shit, sorry. Did I wake you?”
“The phone did.” She shifts closer, her hand finding my chest. “Everything alright?”
I lie back down and pull her into my arms, needing the contact. She comes willingly, molding her body against mine, her head tucking perfectly under my chin.
“Good morning,” I murmur into her hair.
“Good morning.” She tilts her head up to kiss my jaw. “You're avoiding my question.”
“Am I?”
“Liam.” Her tone is patient but firm.
I sigh, tightening my arms around her. “It was my mom. I didn't answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” I pause, trying to find the words. “It's complicated.”
She doesn't push, just waits. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, and the simple comfort of it makes something loosen in my throat.
“My relationship with my mother isn't great,” I say. “Actually, that's putting it mildly. It's pretty fucked up.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I should say no. I should deflect with a joke or change the subject or distract her with sex. That's what I usually do when conversations get too close to things I don't want to examine.
But this is Avery. And for some reason, I want to tell her. I want her to know the parts of me I usually keep hidden.
“My dad left when I was twelve,” I say, the words coming out flat. “He just walked out one day and left a note saying he wasn't cut out for family life.”
Avery goes still against me. “Oh, Liam.”
“I found the note first.” The memory is still sharp after all these years. “I came home from hockey practice and there it was, on the kitchen table. Three sentences. That's all I was worth.”
Her arms tighten around me. “That wasn't about you. That was about him being a coward.”
“Yeah, well. It didn't feel that way when I was twelve.” I stare up at the ceiling, not wanting to see pity in her eyes. “My mom was devastated. And I was angry. I started acting out at school. Hockey was the only thing that kept me sane.”
“And your mom? How did she handle it?”
“She remarried almost right away. John was divorced. He thought he could step in and fix me.” Bitterness spills out of my mouth. “He tried to discipline me, but really, he was just controlling. He never understood hockey and thought it was a waste of money.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was a nightmare.” The old anger rises. “We fought constantly. About curfew, about grades, about hockey expenses. He threatened to cut off funding for my equipment.”
“Where was your mother in all this?” Avery asks quietly.
And there it is. The question that still hurts more than anything else.
“She never defended me.” My voice cracks, and I hate the weakness I’m showing. “Not once. She just wanted peace and her new family to work. So she let John say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted. And I just had to deal with it.”
Avery’s eyes flash with anger. “She did not behave like a mother. Children come first. That was not fair.”
“Yeah, well. Life's not fair.” I try to smile, but it doesn't quite work. “I started staying at teammates' houses to avoid going home. I spent as little time there as possible. As soon as I got drafted, I moved out and never looked back.”
“What about your half-brothers?” she asks gently. “How old are they now?”
“Fifteen and twelve. Caden and Travis.” Their names feel strange in my mouth. “I barely know them.”
“Can’t say I blame you.”
“They are not to blame either.” I swallow down the guilt that comes over me whenever I think about them. “I feel guilty about not trying with them. They're just kids, you know? It's not their fault their dad's an asshole or that our mom chose them over me.”
“But you stayed away because of the resentment,” Avery says, showing clearly that she’s on my side here.
“Yeah. Every time my mom calls about family gatherings and wants me to play happy family.” I shake my head.
“I can't do it. I sit there at the dinner table with John acting like some patriarch, my mom pretending everything's perfect, and these two kids who are basically strangers. And all I feel is anger. At him for being controlling. At her for never standing up for me. At the whole fucked-up situation.”
“So you keep your distance.”
“It's easier that way. For everyone.”
Avery is quiet for a moment, her fingers still tracing those soothing patterns on my chest. “What are they like? Caden and Travis?”
“I don't really know.” The admission hurts. “Caden is quiet, I think. Into video games. Travis plays soccer. That's about all I know. We don't really talk when I do see them. It's awkward as hell.”
“Do you want to know them?”
The question takes me aback. It’s not something I give much thought to.
“I don't know. Maybe? But it feels too late now.
I'm this stranger who shows up once a year, if that.
What am I supposed to say to them? Hey, I'm your half-brother who's been ignoring you for years because I can't stand your dad?”
“You could start with just being present,” Avery says. “It's not too late, Liam. They're still young. Fifteen and twelve is old enough to understand complicated family dynamics, but young enough that they probably still want a relationship with you.”
“You think?”
“I think kids notice when someone makes an effort.”
“I wouldn't even know where to start.”
“Start small. Text them on their birthdays. Ask about their interests. Invite them for a game. You don't have to suddenly be best friends, but you could be a presence in their lives. On your terms, not John's or your mom's.”
The idea is both terrifying and appealing. “What if they don't want that? What if they think I'm an asshole for staying away all these years?”
“Then at least you tried.” Her hand comes up to cup my face. “But I don't think that's what will happen. I think they'll be grateful that you're making an effort.”
“When did you get so wise?”
“I'm the older sister, remember? Even if it is by a minute.” We both laugh. “I know about complicated sibling dynamics.” She smiles. “Sadie and I fought like crazy growing up. But we made it work because we kept trying. Even when it was hard.”
“Your situation is different. You and Sadie actually like each other.”
“Now we do. But we didn't always. There were years where we could barely stand to be in the same room.” She leans down and kisses me.
“My point is, relationships take work. But they're worth it. And those boys are your brothers. That means something, even if your relationship with your mom and John is complicated.”
I pull her down against me again, needing her close while I process this. “I'll think about it. You're really good at this, you know.”
“At what?”
“Making me think about things I usually avoid. Being honest about shit I usually bury.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you.”
“You don't have to thank me for listening.”
“Yeah, I do. You make me want to be better, Avery. Not just at hockey or managing my reputation, but at everything.”
She's quiet for a moment, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. “You make me want to be better, too. Braver. More willing to take risks.”
“We're quite the pair.”
“Yeah, we are.”
We lie there in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the morning sun starting to stream through the windows, warming the room.
“We should get up,” Avery says eventually.
“In a minute.” I'm not ready to let go of this yet.
“The day is wasting away,” Avery says.
“Or—” I roll us so she's beneath me, grinning down at her. “We could stay in bed a little longer.”
“Tempting. But you promised me a day in Toronto, and I'm holding you to it.”
“Fine.” I kiss her nose, her cheeks, her mouth. “But shower first?”
“Together?”
“Obviously.”
The shower takes longer than necessary because I can't keep my hands off her. By the time we're clean and dressed, it's after nine, and my stomach is growling.
“Room service?” I suggest, already reaching for the menu.
“On the balcony,” Avery says, pulling open the curtains to reveal the morning sun streaming in. “It's beautiful outside.”
We order enough food for four people and take it out to the balcony. The October air is crisp but not cold.
Avery curls into one of the chairs, and I take the chair beside her, close enough that our knees touch.
“So,” she says, stealing a strawberry from my plate. “What's the plan for today?”
“I was thinking we could be tourists. Hit the CN Tower, walk around the Distillery District, maybe grab lunch at St. Lawrence Market.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Yeah?” I'm inordinately pleased that she likes the idea. “I want to show you the city. Do normal couple things.”
“Normal couple things,” she repeats, and there's something wistful in her voice. “I like that.”
“Me too.” I reach over and take her hand. “Thank you for listening this morning. About my mom and all that shit.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She squeezes my fingers. “I know it wasn't easy.”
“It wasn't. But I'm glad I did.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “You make it easier. Everything's easier with you.”
“Even the complicated parts?”
“Especially those.”
We eat breakfast slowly, talking about nothing important. What we want to see, where we should eat dinner, whether it's too cold for the ferry to the islands. Normal conversation. The kind couples have over breakfast.
And for the first time in my life, I think maybe I could have this. Not just for two days, but for real. A relationship. Someone who knows the messy parts of me and doesn't run away.
Someone like Avery.
My phone buzzes on the table between us. I glance at the screen.
Mom: Liam, I need to talk to you about Thanksgiving. Call me back.
“You should probably call her back,” Avery says gently.
“Eventually. But not today.” I stand up and pull her to her feet. “Today is about us.”
She smiles up at me. “I can live with that.”
“Good.” I kiss her one more time. “Now let's go be tourists.”
Maybe I'll even text Caden and Travis when we get back. Ask about school or soccer or video games. Start trying, like Avery said.
Because if she can take risks for me, I can take risks too.
Even if it's scary as hell.