Chapter 1 #3
Merry fucking Christmas. Liam blew out a breath and slowly walked down the street toward Cups.
Yep. He’d fucked up all right. He grimaced, cursing himself.
With the benefit of hindsight, he was able to pinpoint the exact moment he’d pissed everything away.
What the fuck had he been thinking? God, if he had a time machine, he’d go back and kick his own ass for that bullshit he’d spewed at prom.
Since then, nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.
And he had no one to blame but himself.
Damn it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d checked all the boxes. Had gotten the wife, kids—a house with a picket fence and the stupid degree to pay for it—and everything had still fallen to shit.
He’d tried. He’d really fucking tried to keep Jenny happy, but…“What did you expect, Liam? Even when you’re here, you’re not. I need someone who isn’t just going through the motions, someone who’s going to treasure me, and I can’t keep pretending this is working.”
He couldn’t either, and not divorcing her then and there had been fucking stupid, but that goddamned alpha part of him…he wasn’t, and needed to stop trying to be one. Every time he let his wolf rear up, things just got worse.
Liam sighed and pulled the door to Cups open, the bell above tinging.
Garlands decorated the walls and low holiday jazz played.
The little tables that dotted the space were packed with people chatting over coffee and having late lunches.
Greta Hornsby, the proprietress, glanced up at him as she rang a customer out, the line at the counter two people deep.
He smiled at her and stepped to the back, hoping a double mocha espresso would put a better spin on the day.
“Hey, Liam,” Becky Swann said, turning to him and twirling a bleach blonde lock around her finger. “Long time, no see.”
“Yeah.” He forced another smile and looked away, hoping she would get the hint.
“I heard your divorce isn’t going so hot. You know, if you ever need someone to talk to,” she said as she smoothed her hand down his chest and fiddled with his scarf, “I’m more than happy to listen.”
Go away. His smile widened, bordering on rictus. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She batted his arm coyly. “Do. I’ll certainly be thinking of you…I can’t believe Jenny was fucking Pete Randall for all those years behind your back. It’s no wonder you left. You deserve better.”
Did he? Because he was pretty sure that was on him, too. Liam took a deep breath, not in the mood to discuss their open marriage, or the reasons for it. Like everything else, it’d sounded like a good idea at the time, but—
“Is it true all of those kids are really his?” she pressed, way too close to him.
His hackles rose, and he swallowed a surge of bile-tainted anger, stepping around her to the counter. “Double mocha espresso, to go.” Fuck, coming in here had been a bad idea.
Greta frowned as she rang it up with something akin to pity on her face.
“Berry frap,” Becky chimed in, oblivious as she added it to his tab. The rest of the shop’s customers had gone silent, chewing very quietly as they waited for his answer.
They weren’t getting one.
“Order up!” Kelsey called through the little window.
His sister’s gaze landed on him and her brows furrowed.
She tilted her head toward the side entrance, and he nodded, handing Greta his card.
She ran it, and he took it along with his cup, though he couldn’t say coffee sounded very appetizing anymore.
“Well, like I said, if you ever want to talk…” Becky twirled her hair again.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you,” he said, heading for the exit.
“Wait, I didn’t give you my—”
The door closed behind him, cutting her off, and Liam scooted around the side of the building before she caught up with him. Goddamn it. The last thing he needed was to hook up with Becky Swann, Miranda Clarke, or any of his other past conquests looking to relive high school.
Christ, but it had seemed so much easier then. He’d just been having fun, male, female, it didn’t matter with who—until Felix, and then—then it got complicated.
And nothing Liam had done since had improved the situation.
He leaned against Cups’ pink brick wall and knocked his head against it. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
“You know that’s not actually gonna knock any sense into you, right?” Kelsey asked, slipping outside. “Here. I screwed up an order,” she said, tossing him a bag stamped with holly sprigs and shivering as she pulled her sweater closer to her throat.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“You see Jenny?” his sister asked.
“Yeah, but I didn’t…she didn’t give me a chance to ask about Sarah.
” The other kids might not be his, but their oldest’s paternity test had come back inconclusive.
They were running it again, but with the holidays, it could be another three weeks before they knew anything for sure.
He’d hoped to spend some time with her in the interim, but unfortunately, Sarah was old enough to remember him. More specifically, him leaving.
Kelsey grunted. “She can’t keep you from your kid, Liam.”
“She can if Sarah doesn’t want to see me.” And given the shit show that’d ensued the last time he’d tried, she didn’t. Christ, could he blame her? Pete had gone mental.
His sister chewed her nail. “You’re still going to therapy and taking your meds, right?”
“Yeah.” For all the good it was doing. If Sarah’s paternity test came back as a match, his stint in the psych ward after Samhain wasn’t going to help his case for joint custody, that was for sure.
Regardless, he couldn’t afford to fuck up again, and a restraining order would set fire to any chances he had of seeing her, period.
Especially if they found out what’d happened in Los Huego. He’d done his best to bury it, but there’d been too many people there to guarantee his past wouldn’t come knocking at some point.
Kelsey blew out her cheeks, her breath clouding as soon as it left her lips.
“Look, I gotta get back inside, but why don’t you come with me to Jena’s tomorrow for dinner?
They’re having an early Yule party, and she and Chase are always asking about you.
They’d love to see you, and Aggie’s making lasagna again.
The last time they sent me home with a week’s worth of leftovers.
I know there’ll be enough for one more at the table. ”
He looked up, blinking back tears. “I dunno…”
“Liam.” His sister put a hand on his arm. “You shouldn’t be alone so much, and people care about you. You need to let them and get out of your head once in a while. This front you put up…it’s not healthy. You’re allowed to feel shit.”
Like shit, yeah. He did plenty of that. He ducked his face from her and swept a hand over his eyes. “Sure, okay. What time tomorrow?”
“Six.” She raised her brow like she didn’t believe him.
Be consistent. Show up and prove you can be there for them.
He blew out a breath. That went for the rest of his family, too.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”