After The Break

by Andrea Joan

  “What happened?”

  “Same thing as before. I was racing. Only this time it was different because my go-to club buddy happened to be on one of his sober kicks.”

  “Logue?”

  She nods. “With him being sober, by day three he knew something wasn’t right. He knew I wasn’t using. Knew I wasn’t sleeping, and he never flat-out said it, but I think he has some type of personal history that made him see my behavior wasn’t normal. Day four he tried to convince me to see someone. To either get help, or at least just get piece of mind that nothing was wrong with me. I refused. Called him an asshole. He refused to leave my side as I continued to party, claimed he was looking out for me.” Well, fuck. I’m starting to hate him a little less. “By day five I was so strung out from lack of sleep and alcohol that he was able to take topless photos of me without me even noticing, not that I would have cared if he had.”

  “What the fuck?!” I so take that fucking back. I’m going to knock his ass out the next time I see him.

  “Calm down. He doesn’t have them anymore.”

  “Why would he take them in the fucking first place, Skylar? He took advantage of you at the worst possible time! And for what purpose? So he had pictures of you to jack off to later? I swear, I’m going to finish what I started with him in that garage next time I see him!”

  “Liam, stop. It wasn’t like that. He didn’t need naked photos of me to jack off to. We were sleeping together at the time.”

  “That is not fucking helping me calm down, Sky.”

  “Just listen. He took the photos to use them as blackmail.” She must feel me tense under her because she hurries to explain. “Cass threatened to leak the nude photos if I didn’t at least agree to a voluntary seventy-two-hour psych hold.”

  “What?”

  “He made me check into a hospital. I tried to call his bluff, and not more than five minutes later he leaked to an outlet that he may have nude pictures of me. He wasn’t bluffing. I think Cass knew I was going to crash again like before. That my high would become low and he wanted me to get help. So I checked myself into the hospital. I hated it. Hated him. Hated the drugs they made me take. Hated the doctor I had to see that diagnosed me as bipolar. I was paranoid that the media would get wind of it and destroy me, but luckily between Noah and Cass, they were able to keep it quiet. Not even Winter knows. I think she suspects something, but she won’t press me on it. Anyway, I checked out on the third day and never looked back. Until now. It scared the hell out of me to accept something like this, Liam. I wanted to live in denial as long as possible, convinced myself it was all a fluke. I didn’t want to believe that I could end up like my mother, so I refused to see a doctor again. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. It would make it finally real to me.”

  THE SILENCE SEEMS TO last a lifetime. Relief from finally telling him is invigorating, freeing even, but the fear of what he’s going to say next is making time stand still.

  “I can’t decide if I want to kill Cassiel or just let him go with a slight beating.”

  “Seriously? That’s all you have to say? You’re pissed at Cass?”

  “Kind of, yeah. I guess he was trying to help in his own dumbass way, but still, what a dick.”

  “Well, I think I’ll take that over you being mad at me actually, so go forth, be pissed at Cass.”

  He chuckles in that manly way that makes me fall a little bit more in love with him. “I’m not mad at you, Sky. Well, let me correct myself. I’m not mad about this. I’m mad about you lying to me about Carl, but not this. I’m hurt you didn’t think you could tell me, but Sky you obviously haven’t even come to terms with it yourself, and that may take some time and some help, so I get it.”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you about Carl. I just didn’t want you to do something bad, like go after him, or leave me. We had only known each another a few days, and you just got a crash course in paparazzi madness. I thought if I told you, you might decide I wasn’t worth it and leave. I wasn’t ready to lose you yet, I guess.” I start to run my hands under his shirt, just wanting to feel his bare skin against mine.

  “I know. And I can’t honestly tell you that you wouldn’t have had I known. I wanted to kill him, Skylar. When I saw that video, I wanted to end his fucking life. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have if you had told me that day. So I understand. It just…It can’t happen again if you want this to work. You can’t lie to me, okay?”

  He places his hand on top of mine, stopping its movement as he waits for an answer. But all I can think to say is, “You still want this to work?” I can’t believe after everything I just told him, he wants this to work. It almost feels too good to be true, and part of me thinks it is.

  “Are you serious? Of course I fucking do. I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I didn’t.”

  I feel put together, torn apart, secure and unsure all at the same time. I know we still have so much to work out, but all I want to do now is kiss him and make up for the weeks we’ve been apart. When I move to straddle him, he willingly accepts me, kissing me like he owns me.

  I missed his lips.

  His scent.

  His groans when I suck his tongue into my mouth.

  When I grind into his hard cock he grabs my hips. “Fuck. Baby, we need to stop.”

  “What? Why?” I suddenly feel self-conscious.

  “Not for the reasons you’re thinking, so don’t even go there. Believe me when I tell you I want nothing more than to bend you over this bed and fuck you so hard the entire island hears you screaming my name.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Thank you,” he smirks. “But we can’t because we’re about to have dinner. And you’re about to meet my parents.”

  “No. No way, Liam. I am not meeting your parents. I look like hell! I’m so not ready for this.”

  “You look great, so stop it. My parents will love you. Oh and Shayla, too. God knows she’s been dying to see you again. I think she’s been fangirling over you for a while now. Fuck, I think she’s actually been fangirling over me just because I’m with you.”

  “Did you just say fangirling?” I bust out laughing. I can’t help it. As pissed as I am that he’s about to throw me into the lion’s den, the fact that the word ‘fangirling’ just came out of his mouth has me forgetting it all.

  “Knock it off, brat, and get up. Ma’s made stew for dinner and they’re all excited to meet you. Dad even brought out the expensive whiskey, and I think he may even be wearing a button-down shirt. So pull your shit together and let’s go.”

  “Fine, I’ll go. Under one condition.”

  He quirks a brow. “And what’s that?”

  “That I get to tell them you said ‘fangirling’ to me with a straight face.”

  He shoots forward, grabbing me around the waist, and throws me over his shoulder, making sure to land a hard slap to my ass. I’m equal parts turned on and still laughing as he drags me out to his family that way, who I realize are all standing in the kitchen smiling when he turns around and says, “Family this is Skylar, Skylar this is family.” I give a small wave, not sure if I’m turning red from embarrassment or because I’m still upside down over his shoulder and all the blood is rushing to my head.

  He finally sets me down on a chair and takes the seat next to me, resting his hand on my thigh. His dad, Sean, who looks exactly as I remember him from the bar the first night we met, smiles in appreciation. I hear him say “like father, like son” before kissing his smiling wife.

  When Shayla informs Liam that he doesn’t get out of setting the table just because he has a girlfriend over, and tosses a napkin at him, I know that I’m probably going to fall in love with his family just as much as I’ve fallen in love with him.

  And probably turns into a definitely the more the night progresses. The more I see the love Lillian and Sean still have for one another after all these years. The more I see Shay smart off to Liam and him throwing it right back at her while still
looking at her like she hung the moon. The love and affection they all have for one another after such a tragedy rocked their lives years ago is astounding. Exhausting even, or maybe I’m just exhausted. All that I’ve been through these last few weeks has finally caught up to me, and Liam must notice. When he excuses us from the table and tucks me into his bed, telling me he will be in later, I close my eyes and drift off with a smile on my face and the lasting feeling of a kiss on my forehead, and the idea that this could actually work between us lulling me into a deep sleep. It isn’t until I wake up a few hours later to grab a glass a water, and I overhear a conversation I’m not meant to hear, that I realize my idea has some very real cracks in it.

  “Do you love this girl, Liam?” his mother asks him.

  “Ma, what the fuck?”

  “Language, Liam.”

  “Well, damn, I haven’t even had a chance to eat my pie yet and you’re asking me about love.”

  “Liam, be serious.”

  “I am. You know how much I love your apple pie.”

  “Liam.” She scolds him like she’s probably done a million times before.

  He sighs. “I don’t know, Mom. What do you want me to say? Why do you even want to know?”

  “I want you to be honest with me. I see the way you look at her, the way you are with Skylar, how you watch and worry and care over her. Reminds me of how you were with Ali.”

  I shake my head. “She’s not Ali. The way I feel for Sky is different than what I had with Ali. There is no comparison.”

  “I know she’s not like Ali, Liam. She’s a bit more complicated and I want you to really recognize that.” She places her hand on his. “She has a mental disorder-”

  “I’m aware, and I don’t fault her for that, and honestly I’m surprised you are, Mom.”

  “Liam, I’m not. That girl deserves to be happy just like you do, and if you truly love her I would be more than proud to one day call her a daughter-in-law. I just want you to be realistic before making this decision. What she’s dealing with will never go away, she’ll eventually make peace with that, but the person she spends the rest of her life with will have to make peace with that too and be ready to deal with whatever obstacles are thrown their way.”

  That’s the last I hear before I snap out of it and go back to bed. I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t even want my water.

  “Morning, sweetheart. Mind if I sit?” I may have to catalogue his husky I just woke up voice as my favorite.

  “Pretty sure this is your house, therefore your cool swinging bench. I don’t think you have to ask me if you can sit.” I smile because it feels good to joke again. Last night, after I heard Liam and his mom speaking about Ali, I was devastated. To know I would never be like her, that I could never measure up, it hurt. But after the tears finally dried up, I realized something; I can set him free so he can find someone he feels that way about. I would never have to be a burden to him, and a certain kind of peace came over me in accepting that conclusion. I absolutely love him enough to give him a chance to find a love he deserves again.

  “Smartass.” He smiles back, sitting next to me. The bench swings a little under his weight, and I almost spill my tea. “You sleep good last night?” he asks.

  “I did actually.”

  “I know.” He starts playing with the ends of my hair, twisting it in his fingers.

  “If you know, then why ask?”

  “Because I wanted to hear you say it.”

  “How do you even know I slept good, mister know-it-all? Maybe I slept terribly. Maybe I didn’t sleep at all.”

  “Nah. I slept like the dead. Which means you slept fucking great. You get antsy when you sleep like shit. Constantly kicking covers and changing positions. Smacking me with an arm to the face.”

  “What?! I do not smack you in the face.”

  “Baby, I promise you do.”

  Not wanting to argue about how wrong he is regarding my sleeping habits, I change the subject. “I forgot how gorgeous it is on this island. So calming.” I rest my head on his shoulder, watching the early morning waves crash against the sand. His house is so close to the beach that I can feel the spray of the ocean on my face. “I honestly can’t believe you ever left here to come with me to L.A.”

  “What can I say, something more gorgeous tempted me.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Despite the fact that I haven’t seen you in three weeks, I remember one thing quite clearly. I’m more than positive I can’t stop you from asking me something.”

  “Shut up.” I elbow him playfully in the ribs. “Do you regret it?”

  “Regret what? Coming to L.A. with you?” I nod, not really wanting to look at him when he answers. “Are you serious? Fuck no! Sky, of course I don’t regret it. Hell, I would still be with you there now if this all hadn’t gone down. How can you even ask me that?”

  “Liam, you left. How could that not be something that crossed my mind? And I’m not blaming you for leaving, I get why you did, trust me I do, seeing as my mistakes and lies were the reason. Not to mention the fact I never informed you I was crazy.”

  “Stop it.” He jumps off the bench, sending it swinging. I place my feet on the wooden deck to still its movement before setting my mug on the ground. “Seriously, just stop. You are not crazy,” he says.

  “Liam, I’m bipolar.” Saying it out loud once again makes me feel a little stronger in accepting it. “That’s a life sentence of crazy. Listen, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I accidentally heard you and your mom last night. She’s right, Liam. This is something I’ll have to deal with the rest of my life, and anyone that decides to be with me will have to deal with it right along with me, and that isn’t fair to ask of anyone. You had it so good and easy before with Ali.” This is the first time I’ve ever had the nerve to say her name out loud, and I’m glad I did. He needs to be able to hear it, and I need to be able to get it out in the open, if only so we both can have some type of closure.

  “You can have that again. You deserve easy and perfect, Liam. You deserve someone that gives back, not constantly takes from you. You’ve earned that. Don’t let me rob you of it over some misguided need to protect me.”

  Liam says nothing, just stares at me quizzically for a second before scrubbing his hands down his face and groaning. Part of me feels a sense of relief that I finally set him free, said all the things that needed to be said, while another part of me is already mourning the loss of him.

  “Don’t move, okay. I’ll be right back,” he says before walking into his house. When he comes back out, he has a sweatshirt in his hand; I assume it’s one of his.

  “Stand up.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stand up. Please.” I stand, because like a love-struck fool I’ll do whatever he tells me. “Arms up.”

  “You didn’t say Simon Says,” I joke.

  “Fuck Simon. We’ll be walking where I want to take you and it’s going to get chilly.”

  When I put my arms up, he pulls the sweatshirt over me, and once I smell it I know it’s definitely his. He holds out his hand and I take it without pause.

  Apparently where he’s taking me doesn’t require a vehicle, though from what I remember about being in this town, nothing much does. We walk hand in hand in comfortable silence for the ten minutes it takes us to reach our destination. I never bothered to ask him where he was taking me, and he never offered to tell me. When we reach a small field with a weathered looking white church, he turns and walks toward it. I notice a few gravestones scattered around, and that’s when I realize we are in a cemetery. I still don’t speak, and neither does he, as we pass gravestone after gravestone.

  It’s not like any other cemetery that I’ve seen before. It’s not perfectly manicured or filled with perfectly lined headstones. There’s a certain chaotic personal quality to it. When he finally stops walking, I follow his line of sight. Two gravestones, wildflowers adorning the plot, names etched into them so
clear and recognizable.

  Trevor O’Connor. Isabel O’Connor.

  “Liam?” I look up at him, tears threatening to fall. Why did he bring me here?

  “I haven’t been here since their funeral,” he admits, taking something out of his pocket. When I look closer, I see they are four-leaf clovers. He sets one on each tombstone.

  Tears begin to slide freely down my cheeks. “Why not?” I ask. I’ve only ever been to my mother’s grave once, at her funeral, but only because there was never a need to go back. My time with her was short and filled with pain. It wasn’t worth it to travel states over just to relive that. But Liam had happy memories with his brother, with his family. He lives ten minutes away; just on accident you’d think he would have ended up here at least once.

  “Honestly, because I was fucking scared. And ashamed. I was so consumed with guilt over their deaths for so long that I never felt worthy enough to come back here. Never felt ready.”

  “But you came back now? Why?” I ask, turning to him.

  “Because, Sky, you made me ready by making me feel fucking worthy, by assuaging me of my guilt.” His hands rest on my shoulders as he looks deep into my eyes. “You gave that to me.” His eyes glisten with the unshed tears pooling in them. “And let me tell you something. If Ali was buried here and not in North Carolina near her family, I would make sure you saw me be worthy enough to stand in front of hers too. You’ve only ever given to me, baby.”

  I shake my head; he’s not looking at the big picture here. “Liam, that’s only one thing. That’s not enough for you to give—”

  “Skylar, stop. Stop trying to cheapen your value to me. If one thing isn’t enough to convince you, what about the fact that you make me laugh at least once a day, whether it’s at you or with you? Because, let me tell you, that means a fucking lot to a guy who has barely managed to fake laugh in the last four years. Or that you calm me—your voice, your touch, your presence. Fuck, you don’t even have to be there. Just the thought of you waiting for me somewhere is enough to keep me from completely losing my shit in a blind rage when I’m pushed.”