Wounded

by Abby Brooks

  “He’s a good guy, your brother. But I think it hurts him to be here.” His gaze flickers my way and I search his face for any sign that he might know why Michael doesn’t like being at this house.

  Relieved to see nothing but a question, I take my plate and sigh. “It does.” I sit and pick up my fork. “For the same reason it hurts me.”

  Liam lowers his fork. “And why’s that?”

  I stab at the piles of delicious food, suddenly certain it’ll all taste like sawdust and utterly regretting my brief moment of honesty. “I don’t know.”

  Liam eyes me as I pick at my food and then reaches over to squeeze my hand. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He swallows hard. “But I’d like it if you would.”

  “I want to talk about it. You deserve to know.” I suck in my lips and close my eyes. “It’s just hard.”

  “I understand. I’m here and I can’t imagine one thing you could possibly say that would change how I feel about you.” He squeezes my hand again and doesn’t let go until I open my eyes.

  “My boyfriend killed himself the summer after we graduated high school.” I blurt the sentence out before I have a chance to change my mind. “I was coming over to surprise him with an invitation to a party and heard the gunshot. Like an idiot, I ran towards it. Into his house. Found him slumped over the note he wrote to his parents. Blood was everywhere.”

  “My God,” says Liam, his eyes roving my face.

  “I never even knew he was depressed.” I shake my head, the grief and blame settling easily into place. “We were together for almost two years and I didn’t have a single clue that he was struggling with depression.”

  Liam looks like he wants to say something, but I hurry forward, the weight of the story bearing down on me.

  “I was devastated. So what did I do? Instead of going home, I ran away. Like an idiot, I went to the party in Grayson alone and drank myself into oblivion. I called my parents and told them I was too drunk to drive. I remember my mom sobbing into the phone, just glad to know I was okay.” I poke at the food on my plate and glance at Liam. “Tyler’s mom had called with the news and no one knew where I was. Obviously, everyone had spent the day scared to death. Mom made me promise not to go anywhere and she and Dad hopped in her car to come get me at three in the morning. A truck full of drunk teenagers coming home from the very same party I was at swerved over the line and hit them head on. My mom died instantly, but my dad held on.” My voice cracks under the weight of it all. “He made me promise to take care of Michael. To keep the house up so he had a home to finish growing up in. To take care of his truck. I don’t know why he cared so much about that thing…” I trail off, my voice trembling.

  “No wonder the whole town finds your life fascinating.” Liam looks so solemn that I let out a sound that’s starts as laughter but opens the floodgates to my sorrow.

  He stands and pulls me to my feet, draws me in close and wraps his arms around me. I dissolve into tears while he rocks and shushes me, running his hand through my hair. I wait for him to tell me it’s not my fault, but he never does. He just lets me cry until I’m done and then pulls me into his lap, cradling me like a child. The tears are bitter. They burn my eyes and cheeks, pulled out of the darkest part of my soul, coated with the fire and ice of guilt and sorrow.

  “Did you know I tried to kill myself once?” Liam’s words are thick, coated in the same pain as my tears.

  I twist in his arms to meet his eyes.

  “Of course you don’t,” he says. “Brent and his team of PR magicians made sure the story never hit the news.”

  “But why?” I ask, devastated to know he ever harbored so much sorrow that he couldn’t see another way through it.

  His expression darkens. “Can you imagine what would happen if that kind of stuff got out to the public?”

  “That’s not what I mean. I don’t give two shits about Brent and that stupid PR team. Why did you try to kill yourself?”

  Liam blinks slowly but holds my gaze. “Because for all the people who know my name, my face… Hell, for all the people who can even recognize me by tattoos alone, no one—not one single person—has a clue as to who I really am.”

  “I do.” I wipe my eyes and take his face in my hands.

  Liam nods once. “You do.” He runs a thumb along my cheek, a secret smile playing across his mouth. “But here’s the thing, hot lips. No one knew I’d been thinking about it for weeks. I spend my days surrounded by people and no one knew.” He raises his eyebrows and peers into my eyes. “Not because they weren’t paying attention, but because I didn’t want them to.”

  I shake my head. “Yeah, but it’s different. Tyler and I were close. I should have seen the signs…” I trail off. Liam can try to make me feel better all he wants, but that’s not going to change the fact that I know all of this is my fault. If I’d only been paying attention, my entire life would look different.

  “And I guarantee that he did everything in his power to hide those signs from you. If he truly wanted to die, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him.”

  I bury my face in his shoulder. There’s nothing he can say to make me think this mess isn’t my fault. Lexi and I have been on the same merry-go-round for years.

  “You lost all three of them on the same day?” Liam asks.

  “August fourth.” I swallow and sniff. “Well, my dad held on until the next day. But we knew he was lost the moment he came out of surgery.”

  He nods his understanding, no doubt remembering the night I came home and woke him up playing the piano.

  “And I lost Michael shortly after.” For as much as the memories hurt me, it feels good to talk about it, like some of the pressure building up inside has been released.

  Liam runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it back off my forehead. “He doesn’t look too lost to me.”

  “You should have seen the kid he used to be. He’s lost and it’s my fault. I’m cursed or something,” I say, admitting my deepest fear. “I bring tragedy to the people who love me.” The words are raw and rake across my throat.

  Liam puts a finger to my chin and lifts my gaze to his. “I’m going to call bullshit on that right now. You’re not cursed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I love you and you’ve been nothing but a blessing to me.”

  As if my emotions weren’t already trying to run off with my sanity. “What did you say?” I whisper the words, frozen in place.

  “I love you, Bailey. I don’t know when it happened. Hell, I certainly didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. Somewhere between you hating my guts and telling me my music sucked and me hitting some guy in the face for looking at you wrong, I fell in love with you. No one has ever been as real with me as you are. No one has ever made me laugh like you do, challenged me like you do. I mean, you’ve got me thinking really weird things, things I don’t know what to do with. Like wondering how I could protect you. Provide for you. The fact that you didn’t let me put money into the patio infuriates me because I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. And that’s how I know you’re not cursed. Because I love you that much, and every day I spend with you is better than the last.”

  Every thought I could possibly have is flying around inside me, bumping into more emotion than I have the capacity to understand. His words fill me up, lift me towards the sky like a daydream on a cloud as fear clamps its steely talons around my ankles and pulls me down towards the mud. I stare into his eyes, a smile pulling at my lips as tears roll down my cheeks. “And that scares me more than anything,” I say as my soul cries out the words I wish I could say:

  I love you.

  I want him to hear it, to know it, to smile down at me and kiss the words from my lips. But my throat grows tight and my teeth clamp down, my lips pressed into a thin line.

  “I know you’re afraid to say it,” he says. “I know you’re afraid that if you tell me how you feel that you’r
e going to pull me into this curse you think you have hanging over you. But I’m going to prove to you that you’re not cursed just like I had to prove to myself that I could build you that patio…” His eyes go wide. “Oh! Come see!”

  Liam helps me to my feet, takes me by the hand, and leads me to the back door.

  “You finished!” I step outside and turn to look at him as he leans in the doorway. “I have a patio!”

  Liam scrunches up his face. “You have a flat square of pavers that I refuse to call a patio. But we finished just inside your budget, so you should be really proud of me.”

  I rush into his arms. “I am,” I say. “It looks so great. I love it.” I pause, looking up into his eyes. “I love you.”

  The words are hushed, barely more than a whisper. Something I’ve known for a while but hadn’t admitted, a truth that terrifies me.

  “Did you just say you love me?” Liam wraps his arms around my waist. “Is that what I think I just heard?”

  I nod. “Maybe.”

  “Say it again.” He peppers my face with kisses.

  “You first.” I can barely get the words out past my laughter.

  Liam scoops me up into his arms, carries me inside and, while I shriek and squeal and kick my legs, he makes a beeline straight for my bedroom. He pauses at the closed door, having never been invited inside.

  “In here?” he asks, as if he understands the gravity I’ve attached to something as silly as letting him in my room.

  “In here.”

  He pushes through the door and spreads me out on my bed, pinning my wrists to the mattress and kissing me deeply. “I love you,” he whispers as he trails kisses down my jaw.

  “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls my shirt over my head.

  “I love you,” he whispers when he slides himself inside me.

  He moves and my world shifts to make room for him, the cracks in my heart filled by his voice, his strength, his passion. My back arches and I grip the sheets, balling them up tightly in my fists.

  “Look at me, Bailey,” he says, his words barely more than a growl.

  I don’t just meet his eyes, I fall into them. Tumbling over the edge, erasing the line that delineates me from him, blurring it until there’s simply us.

  LIAM

  “You know what this place needs?” I sit back in my chair at the kitchen table, my coffee gripped between both hands, and study the worn cabinets and dated appliances.

  Bailey sighs. “For you to find something to do during the day so you stop coming up with home improvement projects I can’t afford?” She leans forward and gives me a sad smile.

  “I could completely redo this kitchen for you. It can’t be that hard, can it?” I drum my fingers along the side of the ceramic mug. “And I bet Michael knows how to do it cheaply.”

  “Liam.” Bailey sets her coffee down heavily. “Every last dollar I had to spend is sitting out there in that patio. I have zero disposable income right now. Literally zero.”

  “I know.” I offer her my most winning smile because she’s not going to like what I say next. “But”—I hold up a finger and raise my eyebrows—“I could pay for this next project.”

  Bailey shakes her head. “I don’t want your money. I just want you. And your…” She blushes and points to my crotch, biting her lip and looking adorable.

  “You can say the word cock, you know. You are officially an adult. And a nurse, no less. The human anatomy shouldn’t make you blush.”

  “I know. Maybe I just like hearing you say dirty words.”

  I widen my legs, giving her a better view…

  Damn it.

  I know exactly what she’s doing.

  “You know you can’t distract me with sex every time I start talking about things you don’t want to discuss,” I say as I cross my legs primly.

  “You sure?” Bailey giggles. “It’s been working pretty well so far.”

  “I’m not trying to buy your love, you know,” I say after a long drink of coffee.

  A devilish smile quirks the corners of her lips. “Good. It’s not for sale.”

  Bailey gets up from the table and comes around to me. I open my arms and she slides into my lap, resting her head on my chest. It’s a habit she started after the night I finished the patio. Every day before she leaves for work, she curls up in my arms and closes her eyes. Neither of us says a word, but I run a hand over her back and can feel her soften into me, her body melting into mine. Today, I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

  “Promise you’ll be here when I come home?” she murmurs before pressing herself up to meet my eyes.

  “I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be more.”

  When Bailey leaves for work, the wind that blows through the open door is downright cold. It's been a long time since I've lived through a real fall, with the leaves changing colors and the chill sneaking into the air. I’ve loved every second of it and now that the leaves are falling from the trees and the days are ending earlier and earlier, I’m curious to find out how I’ll handle the cold of winter.

  There’s a part of me, a tiny voice in my head, that wonders if I’ll even get a chance to handle it at all. Now that the patio is done, there’s no real purpose for me to be here. I can’t stop worrying that Bailey is going to kick me out. There isn’t one reason for me to think that. She hasn’t given me any indication that she wants me to be anywhere but right here with her. But knowing something is true doesn’t always make it easy to believe in that truth. As much as I remind myself that Bailey isn’t like most people, that she wants me for me and not what I can do for her, I keep ending up right back here, looking for ways to make myself useful so she doesn’t lose interest in me.

  Needing a distraction, I grab my phone out of the living room and call Michael.

  “What’s up?” He bites off his greeting, hungover and grumpy on his way to work.

  “Just wanted to chat.”

  “Dude. You need a job. You’re getting hella needy.”

  “That’s what I’m calling about. I want to redo Bailey’s kitchen.”

  Michael sighs and I hear the click of his turn signal through the phone. “There’s no way she can afford that, man.”

  I lean on the counter and wrap an arm around my stomach. “Believe me. I’m very aware of her financial situation. She won’t let me forget it.”

  “Bailey’s been doing stuff on her own for a long time. It’s like her personal badge of honor or something. She’s not going to let you pay for a new kitchen as long as the old one is still in working order.”

  “What if she doesn’t have a choice?” I suck in my lips and stare at the pock-marked linoleum floor.

  “Dude. Bailey always has a choice. Just ask her.”

  “What if I go ahead and do it for her?” I grimace, picturing Bailey’s eyes flashing in anger. Those hands, balled up into tight fists and pushed into her hips as she shifts her weight back on her heels to really let me have it.

  Michael laughs. “Do you even know my sister at all?”

  “I mean, sure, she’ll be mad at first, but she’ll get over it. Right?” Even I can hear the uncertainty in my voice.

  “I’m just saying. If it were me, I’d wait until she asked for help before I did anything.”

  I run my hand along the back of my neck. “Why is she so damn stubborn?”

  There’s a long pause before Michael speaks again. “Probably the only way she got this far.” He clears his throat. “Look, man. I’m in dire need of coffee. I’m gonna say goodbye so I can run into this gas station.”

  We say our goodbyes and I hang up with a sigh, sliding the phone into my back pocket. And just like that, the anxiety-riddled thoughts creep right back in. Now that Bailey has no use for me, what with the patio being done and all, why keep me around? Sure, she loves me, but our relationship is brand new. Living together is kind of pushing it. Besides, how long can she love me if I’m not doing anything for her?

>   Lately, I’ve made sure the dishes are done before she gets home from work so she doesn’t have those waiting for her. I've been dusting and cleaning and straightening everything up so much that I don’t think the house has been this clean since long before her parents passed away. I even make sure she has warm meals waiting for her every night when she gets home. Hell, one evening I tried cooking dinner myself.

  I won't be doing that again.

  She ate it all with a smile on her face. Even asked for seconds. But that’s because she’s sweet and more concerned about my feelings than her taste buds. The meal was awful, equal parts underdone and burned.

  When I first got here, I loved sitting still for extended periods of time, but that didn’t last long. Not at all. There hasn’t been a time since my mom started aiming me towards stardom that I haven’t been insanely busy. And it's not even that I crave the work it's just that I crave the ... what? What is it I’m missing?

  Being needed?

  Being wanted?

  Being useful?

  My stomach drops to my feet and I push off the counter to clean up the dishes from breakfast. That’s it right there. The answer to what’s bothering me.

  Now that I'm not useful, why would Bailey want me? The thought joins forces with the black coffee churning in my stomach and I feel a little queasy. With a groan, I run my hands over my face and puff out my cheeks. All this introspection proves that I really do spend too much time alone and I need something to occupy my time.

  I know she's told me time and time again not to use my money on her house and I still don't understand why. Now that she has me, she doesn't have to do things alone anymore. I wish she would lean into me a little bit, let me hold her up when her days get hard. Shit, at this point, it would feel like a privilege if she admitted she didn’t have everything she wanted and let me take care of her.

  I slap my hands on the table and scoot my chair back. It scrapes across the tile and the harsh noise sounds like a decision. Bailey might think she doesn't want me to spend my money on her, but that's only because she hasn't lived that life yet. She doesn't know what it means to let me spoil her the way I want to. The way she deserves.