My chest squeezed a little. She sounded so genuine. It brought a rush of emotion through me because it had been so long since anyone had worried about me. It had been so long since I had any kind of family or support around me at all.
The touch of Liam’s hand at the small of my back startled me, and I jumped. “Do you want a beer, sweetheart?” he asked, holding up the bottle in his hand. I hadn’t even heard him get one.
“No, thanks.” I shook my head.
“Wine?” Holly offered, holding up a bottle. It was a red and a good label.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
She poured us each a fairly generous glass. I wondered if perhaps we were all liquoring up because of the conversation we were about to have.
“I’m anxious to know what’s been going on.” His father began. “I don’t like shady happenings going on at my resort. I especially don’t like not knowing about them when they involve my son.”
“I’m very sorry for the trouble I’ve brought here,” I said, looking down into the wine glass. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. These were wonderful people who worked hard all their lives. They built something that mattered, something that elevated an entire town.
And what had I done?
Brought the mob down on all of them.
God, it was laughable, wasn’t it? Or sounded like some bad TV movie. The mob. This wasn’t the fifties. This was modern day. How could this even happen?
“Bells,” Liam intoned. His bottle hit the top of the large wooden dining table stretched out in front of a window offering a view of snow-covered trees. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I can still be sorry.” I reminded him. I glanced at both his parents. “I am.”
“I’m pretty sure that whatever is going on here isn’t something you want,” Holly said, reaching out to pat my hand. Her smile was genuine and understanding.
I hoped it stayed that way even after we’d told her everything.
“Liam told me that you might be in some trouble.” Renshaw prodded.
I nodded. “And I’m sorry to say that now Liam is involved. Along with the police and the FBI.”
Both his parents frowned, and I knew my likability just went down a few notches. Or a lot.
Probably better I hadn’t worn those awful braids Liam so skillfully did up for me. I needed all the parental points I could get right now, and bad hair wouldn’t offer much credibility.
“And this is why you were at the hospital the other day?” Holly pressed. She turned to Liam. “How is your knee?”
He made a face, took a pull on his beer, and then began picking at the label on the dark-colored bottle. “I stretched the ACL out. I need a procedure and some more PT.”
Both his parents seemed to forget I was in the room. It gave me a sense of relief but also one of loneliness. It also made me homesick for my mother.
“Oh, Liam!” Holly exclaimed. “It’s not torn is it? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said confidently. “We’re going to Denver in a few days.” He went on telling them about the thermal shrinkage he was set to have done.
“How long?” his father asked. I could see in his eyes he knew exactly what this could mean for Liam. It made me wonder… Were Liam’s parents in the dark about his desires to return to snowboarding?
“I’m hoping just six weeks.”
“And the knee will be good as new?” Holly implored.
“I don’t think my knee will ever be good as new, Mom.” He sounded accepting, but I knew better. I recalled the look in his eyes when he told me about losing his career. I felt the way he’d desperately reached for me.
Beneath the table, my hand slipped over Liam’s thigh, gliding down where the tips of my fingers settled between his leg and the chair. Without being inconspicuous at all, Liam let go of his beer and put his hand over mine.
He definitely was not a man who was shy about public displays of affection. Even in front of his parents. Even when my hand was between his thighs.
Granted, it was a gesture of comfort and not sexiness, but still. He made a private gesture public but still held the ability to make it feel secret.
Both his parents turned their attention back to me. Remembering I was there. Maybe realizing it was me Liam looked to for comfort. How awkward did it feel to them? To watch Liam with me, to know we were so much together, barely knowing me at all.
I smiled tentatively. I felt I was skating on thin ice. I didn’t want it to appear I was somehow gloating or taking advantage of him. But at the same time, I wanted them to know he was it for me. That in all honesty, their approval meant so much.
Having a family would mean so much.
The mob ripped apart my family nearly two years ago. Actually, no. My father’s connections with the mob ripped apart my family before I was even born.
And now here I was… hoping for a second chance at a shot on a family. Wanting people to love me despite the massive luggage I came with. It was selfish. It was probably wrong.
I sat here with my hand in Liam’s anyway.
Did that make me a bad person?
I really wasn’t sure.
“Bellamy,” Liam’s father said, sitting forward. “How hurt are you?”
“Looks worse than it is,” I replied, glancing down at the sling.
Liam’s free hand came up, the pad of his thumb grazing lightly over the giant bruise on the side of my face. Who needed makeup when you had your own personal color wheel already spread over your skin?
“She almost died,” Liam replied, slightly hoarse.
Holly gasped. “I think we’ve danced around this enough,” she said firmly. “I want to know what’s going on.” She divided her gaze between the two of us. Her eyes flashed like Liam’s sometimes did. “I want to know everything.”
And so I told them.
Everything.
The entire time I talked, I prayed they wouldn’t throw me out of this house. And if by some grace they didn’t… I prayed the mob wouldn’t rip everything away from me again.
Liam
The silence that reigned through my parents’ house when Bellamy’s voice went quiet was astounding.
It was a lot to absorb. I mean, I knew that.
But damn. Did they have to sit there and gape at her as though their throats were full of raw sushi that just wouldn’t go down?
The sound Bells’s chair made when I grabbed it by the seat and dragged it so close it smacked against mine seemed to shake through the silence. Bellamy glanced at me, her eyes panicked because they were saying nothing at all.
I anchored an arm around her waist, sliding her body along mine. It was a silent message to everyone in this room, including Bellamy, that I just didn’t give a damn about all this shit.
I only cared about her.
Dad recovered first, clearing his throat. “You’ll have to forgive us, dear. This is definitely not what we were expecting to hear.”
She nodded, her blue eyes wide. “It’s a lot to process.”
“A murder trial, the mob, and an avalanche…” Mom murmured and took a sip of her wine. Actually, it was more than a sip. She drained the glass. “I think I’ll get a refill,” she said and excused herself to go into the kitchen.
“And the FBI can’t do anything? Protect you?” Dad pressed.
Bellamy opened her mouth, but I glanced at her and she closed her lips. “The FBI are assholes,” I announced.
“Liam!” Bellamy gasped and yanked her hand from my lap to smack me in the chest. “That is not an answer!”
I made a rude sound, grabbed her hand, and pushed it back into my lap with mine. I liked it there. “It damn well is,” I muttered.
“The FBI is doing everything they can. I’m in contact with them on a daily basis.”
“And witness protection?” Mom asked.
I made a sound. She’d already told them about her first go in the dumb program.
“They offered to put me back in.” Bellamy hedged I alm
ost heard her buckle.
Oh, hell no. “If she goes back into witness protection, her entire identity will be wiped out. Again. I won’t ever see her again.”
“It’s very clear you love her,” Mom said to me.
“I wouldn’t finish that thought,” I intoned. I knew she was about to suggest that sending Bells away might be better. For everyone involved.
“Don’t you talk to your mother like that!” Bellamy snapped. She yanked her hand away from me. Again.
Before I could snatch it back, she reached for her wine. “I realize staying here is selfish. I do. I also realize what kind of target I’m putting on Liam. On all of you. That’s why I will understand if you ask me to leave your home.”
I sat upright. The sudden jolt made my knee sting with pain. “I’m a grown-ass man sitting right here. Bellamy isn’t making me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m in love with her just like I was all those years ago. She’s staying here.” I glanced at her. “And if she leaves, I’m going with her.”
“No one is asking anyone to leave,” my father said, calm. He was always so calm. It was probably why he was so successful in business. He never let them see him sweat. Hell, I really didn’t think he ever did. “We’re just trying to understand.”
“Sometimes even I have a hard time with that.” Bellamy confessed.
My father smiled at her. “It’s a complicated situation.”
“What will you do when they come back here?” Mom asked, frowning.
“I’m not sure yet,” I replied.
“I’m still hopeful the FBI will resolve this,” Bellamy added.
I wanted to debunk that, but I wouldn’t take away her hope. Hell, for all I knew, that’s what helped her sleep at night.
Besides me, of course.
“Well, I can double the security around the resort. We have cameras and security measures in place already, obviously. But I’m sure there is more I can do. I’ll call Bill in the morning. See what he suggests.”
“I wouldn’t tell him the exact situation,” I put in. “The less people that know about the mob connection, the better.”
Renshaw agreed. “Bad for business.”
Bellamy’s mouth dropped open. It was kinda adorable. Reaching over, I pushed her chin up. “Bill is the guy we use for security here at the resort.”
“I don’t understand,”
“Sweetheart, this place is too big for us to run security ourselves.”
She made a sound and scowled. “I know that.”
“Then…?” I was messing with her. It was an asshole thing to do. How was I supposed to resist those little dents between her eyes and the way she wrinkled her nose, though?
“I—” She glanced away from me at my mom, then Dad. “Aren’t you going to ask me to leave? It’s too dangerous for me to be here around you. Around your son.”
I was done messing around. It was fun for about thirty seconds. Was she expecting my parents to toss her fine ass out on the heated driveway? Like for real?
What the hell kind of people did she think we were?
I sat forward, ready to set her straight, but Mom spoke up first.
“Do you love my son?”
Bells looked across the table sharply. Without an ounce of hesitation, she replied, “More than anything.”
“Then why on earth would we ask you to leave?” she implored.
“Because,” she started, but then words failed her.
“Liam came to me eight years ago and told me he wanted to give up the pros so he could be with a girl he was in love with,” Dad told her.
Bells’s eyes rounded. “He did?”
“I already told you that.” I reminded her.
“No one ever told me that,” Mom interjected. “Ren?”
Dad smiled. “Never had to mention it because it didn’t work out.”
My hand dropped into Bellamy’s lap, palm up, fingers spread wide. Her hand slid into mine, and when our fingers linked, it was like an unspoken promise to never let that happen again.
“This time is different,” I told my parents.
“Yes, it is,” Dad replied. Then he looked at Bellamy. “And life is far too short to not do everything you can to stay together.”
Suddenly, this conversation wasn’t about Bells and me. It wasn’t about the mob, my injury, her injury, or how crazy it was we were sticking to each other like glue.
This was about everything he didn’t say but everything I definitely heard in his words.
“Why were you at the hospital, Dad?”
The silence permeating the room when Bellamy told them about her troubles was back. I watched my mother reach across the wooden tabletop, and my father met her halfway. Their hands linked, staying that way while my father picked up the glass of beer and took a sip. I waited as though I were standing on the street level beside a tall building, staring up, watching a heavy object plummet from the roof… clearly intent on crushing me.
When he was finished, the sound of the glass being replaced on the table was background noise for his voice.
“I have cancer.”
No. I dropped back against the chair as if I’d been kicked. Three words. That’s all it took to change my life forever.
I cleared my throat, but my voice was still raspy and low. “What?”
Bellamy’s hand squeezed mine. Her body leaned into me just a little bit farther, silently offering support. My heart thudded heavily, slowly against my ribs as my brain, equal parts glazed over in shock, raced with questions.
“It’s kidney cancer. I—” He visibly swallowed. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you.”
“No,” I told the room. “You can’t. You’re the picture of health. There’s no way you have cancer. You need a second opinion.”
“I’ve had a second opinion,” Dad said, patient.
“Then a third.” I insisted.
“I—ah…” He glanced at my mother. The look they shared didn’t help erase the feelings of disbelief and dread. “We”—he corrected and looked back—“were hoping we wouldn’t need to say anything. That it would be treated and taken care of quickly.”
“But that didn’t happen,” I said, my tone monotone and dull.
“Unfortunately, no.” Dad’s voice cut out, and he glanced at Mom.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, tears threatening to spill over.
Averting my gaze, I glanced at the sweat forming on my beer glass. “How bad is it?”
There was a brief pause. A pause long enough to break my heart.
“It’s spread. To more than one organ.”
I opened my mouth to say something. Words failed me. There were none. Nothing I could say. Or ask. Nothing at all that would make this okay. Or even bearable.
I was a grown man. A man who battled his own share of challenges and hurdles. I was strong. Capable. Able to overcome.
I was also reduced.
Reduced to a boy, to a son who worshipped his father, to a human suddenly overflowing with fear. We all know life is fragile. Every day could be our last.
However, it isn’t every day you are shown a reminder, given irrefutable proof. It isn’t every day that someone you couldn’t imagine living without tells you there might be no other choice.
I was having too many of these moments lately. Too many close calls with the people I loved.
“How long have you known?” The soft steadiness of Bellamy’s voice elevated me, if only a little. It brought me out of my own churning feelings just enough to be present for this conversation. Gazing at her profile, noting the strength in her posture, the resolve in the set of her jaw. She was speaking for me because right now I wasn’t able to do it for myself.
I loved her.
More than I thought possible.
“Close to a year,” Dad replied.
Shock crashed over me like a tsunami. I jerked upright, sliding onto the very edge of the seat. My shoe tapped on the floor rapidly, my body’s way of expelling some of the anx
ious, angry energy consuming me.
“A year!” I bellowed. Unable to sit another second, I bolted up. My hand ripped free of Bellamy’s, and I moved behind our chairs to pace. “You’ve had cancer for an entire year, and you haven’t said shit to me!”
“As I said, we were hoping the treatment would work and we wouldn’t need to burden you with this at all,” Dad replied.
I nearly choked. “You are not a burden!”
“I don’t want to become one, either,” he retorted.
I began pacing twice as fast.
Bellamy rotated in her seat, her back to my parents so she was fully focused on me. I avoided her gaze. If I looked at her right now, I’d break.
“The timing wasn’t good.” Mom jumped in. “You just had surgery. You were angry and lost, facing the reality that you might never be able to pro board again. Adding this to your plate…” Her voice faltered, then hardened. “You’re still our child. You always will be. We will always try to protect you.”
“Protecting me from the truth is called a lie.” I seethed.
How could they not tell me about this? This was literally life and death. I felt robbed. Robbed of choices. Knowing this would have changed everything. I could have done more, been more… Not been so fucking selfish.
“You were in the hospital, Liam.” I could tell Dad was barely holding on to his patience.
That made two of us.
“You should have told me.”
“Why?” Dad’s voice rose. “To give you even more reason to swallow more pills?”
I jerked to a stop. Slowly, I rotated and stared at him in disbelief. Was he really using that against me? Using my reliance on pills back then as an excuse to justify not telling me he was goddamn dying!
Holy shit. Is he dying?
I laughed, a hollow, humorless sound. Rubbing my hand over the back of my neck, I noted how hot my face felt. How the tips of my ears burned and how my skin felt tight, uncomfortably tight. My lips parted. Words and sentences spilled across my tongue, fighting for the right to tumble out first.
Cool, soothing hands slid over my heated cheeks. Bellamy’s palms were silk against the roughness of my short beard. “Look at me,” she whispered.
Blizzard (BearPaw Resort #2) Page 8
