So Bad It Must Be Good

by Nicole Helm

  Aiden was missing, and Liam knew that was half of Mom’s worry. Liam was counting down the minutes before Mom asked him to go on a search.

  Something that sounded far too much like Kayla’s voice in his head whispered about how unfair that request would be.

  Which was fucking stupid since Mom had asked nothing of him today. Why was he already trying to defend himself against it?

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, raking his fingers through his hair, trying to just breathe. It was all he could do. He had no control over what was happening with Dad. No control over where Aiden was. He couldn’t do anything.

  He couldn’t fix anything. And that made his throat close up so tight he couldn’t breathe. Mom stopped pacing and took the seat next to him, sliding her hand across his back in a comforting gesture.

  It helped his throat open up, helped him manage a breath. That’s what family did. Reached out and comforted each other.

  “You did it, right?”

  The jolt of hurt hit fast and unexpected, like missing a nail head and smashing your finger with a hammer. You should have been paying more attention. You should have seen it coming.

  But there you were, smashed, painful thumb throbbing and all you could do was accept this as your reality.

  He clenched his jaw, too many feelings fighting for prominence so he simply nodded sharply. Yes, he had done exactly what Mom had asked, more thoroughly than she could even imagine.

  Mom leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping her hands around his arm and giving it a little squeeze. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s going to make a difference. I just know it.”

  And yet, Aiden wasn’t here. Dad was in surgery. What difference was he making?

  He was helping Mom. That mattered, and it wasn’t some attempt to earn her affection. He had it. It was right here.

  “Aiden!” Mom hopped up and ran over to where Aiden stepped into the waiting room. She flung her arms around him and simply stood there, saying something Liam couldn’t hear.

  Probably for the best.

  “What did you do?”

  Liam blinked over at his grandmother. “Huh?”

  “The thing your mother asked you, what was it?”

  He shrugged ineffectively. Grandma and Mom had always had a kind of tense relationship. Not antagonistic, but certainly not close. Definitely a lot of veiled disapproval from both. “It doesn’t matter. Just a favor for Aiden.”

  Grandma rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  Liam didn’t say anything to that and he didn’t try to read into it. He’d had his fill of people telling him what they thought of his favors. He looked down at his hands as his grandmother grumbled something about it not being her place.

  Then she slapped him across the shoulder.

  “What was that for?”

  “For sitting there looking all wounded and ruining my Zen.”

  Christ. He couldn’t catch a break. “I’m sorr—”

  “Don’t be sorry, Liam Connor Patrick. I told myself I’d stay out of it when your father asked me to, but I am done. My son is in surgery and I will darn well speak my mind. It isn’t right, and you’re all old enough to know better.”

  “Grandma,” Liam said, forcing his voice to be even and soothing as he glanced to make sure Mom hadn’t heard her slap or outburst. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we should just calm—”

  “Your mother loves a cause. Aiden’s always been her cause.” Grandma jerked her chin in Mom and Aiden’s direction. “Liam, you have always been the martyr for her cause. And none of you see it. Not one of you. Not even your father. He told me to stop butting my nose in where it didn’t belong, so I did, but I’m fed up.”

  “I’m not a martyr.”

  “But you look miserable and you’ve done a favor for Aiden. Sacrificing yourself for him all over again and for what?”

  “For my family.”

  Grandma made a rude noise. “Family doesn’t force you into abject misery. Family stands with each other, not for one person. Family doesn’t punch each other down so you’re on the same level. You raise up who you can, and you pray for those you can’t. A real family knows that love is as selfish as it is selfless.”

  “Grandma, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does to me,” she replied, her mouth sinking at the corners, the wrinkles in her face seeming deeper and harsher today. But she pushed to her feet. “I’m going to go pray . . . or get a drink,” she muttered before stalking out of the waiting room and into the hospital hallway.

  Liam didn’t know what to do with all of that. Unfortunately it felt all too much like Kayla’s words last night. Too many truths that didn’t make sense when compared to what he’d always believed.

  But how could it be the truth if he didn’t believe it? How could he be a martyr when he’d never given up anything for Aiden? Maybe a few days off when Aiden had worked for Dad. Sure, he’d paid Aiden’s way quite a few times. And, yes, he’d given a good chunk of his savings to help pay for Aiden to go to culinary school a few years back.

  But how was that not raising Aiden up because he could? He’d had the cash, and Mom and Dad and Aiden hadn’t. At the time, Aiden had needed some training more than Liam had needed a new roof.

  He wasn’t punched down. He was a good fucking brother, damn it.

  Mom came and sat beside him again and Liam scanned the room, frowning. “Where’d Aiden go?”

  “He was going to go buy everyone some soda.” Mom smiled and patted Liam’s knee. “I told him about you and Kayla. He didn’t say anything, but we’ll work on him some more once your father’s out of surgery.”

  He looked at his mother, so pleased with herself when they still didn’t know how Dad’s surgery had gone. He could see the worry lines on her face, and he knew that she did worry, and he almost wondered if she was fixating on Aiden because it was something she could control and Dad’s health was something she couldn’t.

  Oh shit.

  That wasn’t what he was doing. He hadn’t been fixated. He’d been happy with Kayla, and yes he had jumped at the chance to help . . .

  Oh shit, shit, shit. He was a fucking martyr.

  “What did your grandmother say to you?” Mom asked, trying to sound casual and failing.

  Liam shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing new. Just the same question people have been asking me for years.” And it was true. He’d never put the pattern together before, but neither Kayla nor Grandma asking him what he was doing was some brand-new revelation.

  It was harder to brush off from people he loved so much. Friends? The occasional girlfriend? It had been easy to decide they just didn’t get it—couldn’t. But Grandma was a part of this family, and Kayla had so quickly become something like his heart.

  “What question?” Mom asked gently. Because that was the hard part, the part that made it so hard to end. Mom meant well. She cared. It wasn’t as though she didn’t love him or magically loved Aiden more. It was just what Grandma had said. Aiden was the project, and Mom knew what to do with projects.

  She knew less what to do with him, except recruit him in those projects, and he was powerless to that.

  “Why I do it. Why I’m always trying to fix things.”

  “Because you’re a good man, sweetie. Why would that even be a question?”

  “Because I’m not happy, Mom. I’m in love with Kayla. I’m not happy being apart—pretend or real, though it’s pretty damn real considering she didn’t love our little idea.”

  “Oh, Liam. I’m sorry she didn’t understand, but you’re doing the right thing. We’ll get Aiden the help he needs now. We can make him happy and secure. I’m sure of it.”

  Liam looked at his hands. Hands rough from work and giving it his all, and still . . . They’d always been here, trying to fix Aiden. No matter what it took. No matter what Liam had to give. No matter if Liam was happy or not. “Is his happiness more important than mine?” he managed to scr
atch out, almost afraid of the answer.

  “Of course not! Honey . . . Aiden’s just . . . He isn’t as strong as you. He needs more help. If that woman didn’t understand that, if she doesn’t support you loving your brother, she isn’t the girlfriend you want. I’ve never cared for the Gallaghers.”

  Liam could only stare at his mother as she most purposefully did not meet his shocked gaze. She stared at some bland-ass painting on the wall across from them.

  Never cared for the Gallaghers. That woman. He had the sinking fear this was just as much about him as Aiden. As much about Mom keeping a hold on him as it was about helping Aiden get better.

  His heart shied away from the thought, but it was all too plain to let his heart lead. There was too much heartbreak to let those soft parts of him lead.

  “As soon as we know Dad’s all right, I’m going to go see her. I’m not going to lie or pretend. Not for Aiden. Not for you.”

  “Not for your family?” Mom demanded, tears filling her eyes, her lip trembling as she studied him as though he were some stranger.

  Maybe he was. Maybe he needed to be. “I have never been first in this family, and I don’t even care about that. I work hard and I give as much as I can, but I’m not going to give what isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to Kayla.”

  “And what about Aiden?”

  “Maybe Aiden needs to learn how to help himself.”

  “I don’t know what your grandmother said to you, but she is wrong and you will regret turning your back on us, Liam Patrick. Shame on her. Shame on you.” Mom said it with such vehemence, he wanted to relent. He wanted to soothe.

  But it wouldn’t ever end. That was the thing. He was thirty fucking years old and this only ever escalated. This only ever ended up with him giving up more and more.

  He didn’t want to give up Kayla. He never had, but seeing the situation more clearly made it even more disgusting what he’d asked of her. What he’d expected her to understand.

  When she had never asked too much of him. When she had taken his burdens as her own. When she had comforted him. She had given, and she had taken, because apparently she knew how to be in a reciprocal relationship.

  He didn’t. Never had, but damn, it was so much better than this. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t simple, but it gave so much more than it took.

  “Liam—” Mom’s voice was shrill and Liam fought for calm and control. For his heart, and for his courage. He was not a coward, but he’d been doing an excellent impression of one.

  “I won’t fight with you here,” he said quietly and evenly as other people in the waiting room began to stare at them. “I won’t fight with you now. But I hope when we get Dad home and back on his feet . . . I hope you’ll think a little bit about what you’ve asked me to do for Aiden, and what you’ve ever asked Aiden to do for himself.”

  Mom stared at him as if he’d slapped her, but she said nothing else, and when they had the news that Dad had come through with flying colors, Liam knew exactly what came next.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You didn’t have to come home with me.”

  “Of course I did,” Dinah said cheerfully. “Carter all but shoved me out the door.”

  Kayla eyed Dinah as they walked up the stairway to her apartment door. “Yeah, that was . . . weird.”

  But Dinah only grinned. “So weird.”

  “Why are you happy about that?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure he’s planning some elaborate engagement thing.”

  Kayla stopped in her tracks. “What?” she screeched.

  Dinah giggled. “Yup. He thinks he’s so subtle too. It’s adorable. I mean, it’s also driving me crazy because I have no idea when he’s actually going to do it so I’m always halfway on edge, but it’s mostly adorable.”

  “Dinah.” Kayla didn’t know why she felt so teary. It was just . . . God, they were getting old. Jobs and heartaches and marriage. “You’re getting married.”

  Dinah, cool as a cucumber Dinah, looked a little teary herself. “Well, if he ever actually asks me anyway.” She sniffled a little.

  “And I know I’m totally jumping the gun, but you’ll be my maid of honor, right?”

  Then they both started crying in earnest, and it was such a better cry than last night or this morning. This wasn’t about being sad or vaguely dissatisfied. This was all about being so happy for someone she loved.

  She pulled away from Dinah, realized they were standing in the middle of the stairwell hugging and crying. “Come on. We can cry inside.”

  “And drink, right?” Dinah asked in a squeaky voice.

  “Damn straight.”

  Kayla walked with Dinah up the stairs, but nearly ran into her when Dinah stopped short at the top of the stairwell.

  “Oh,” Dinah said, an odd tone to her voice.

  Kayla sniffled looking over at the door where Dinah had stopped midstep. “Oh,” Kayla repeated herself.

  Liam got to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Um, hi. I need to talk to you.”

  Part of her wanted that too. A very big part. But he couldn’t just stomp on her heart one night and then show up the next expecting to get whatever he wanted.

  “We’re busy.”

  “This is important.”

  Kayla lifted her chin, pointing between her and Dinah. “So is this.”

  Dinah reached out and squeezed her hand. “Why don’t I go home?”

  “But—”

  Dinah shook her head. “Get your shit straightened out, Kay. We’ll celebrate after it actually happens, okay? I want your head in the game for it.” Then she pulled Kayla into a hug and squeezed. “Just work it out, or cut it off for good,” she whispered. “Don’t let it keep dragging out, okay?”

  Kayla sniffled again and nodded as Dinah released her. After one last arm squeeze, Dinah disappeared down the stairs and Kayla stood in the breezeway with Liam.

  Her heart hurt. A sharp, painful ache in her chest. She hadn’t had time to build up any kind of defense against him. Everything with them had all happened so fast, and she needed time to sort it out.

  She could live without him—she knew that—but she needed a little bit more time to feel like that was the best alternative. Right now living without him just sucked.

  “I don’t want to do this right now.” She grabbed her keys and moved for her door.

  But he stepped in front of her. “I do,” he said firmly.

  She knew she should meet his steady gaze with the most condescending, imperious look she could manage. She should tell him to go to hell. Instead, she stared blindly at his chest. Her throat was tight and she felt like crying again, and it was so damn infuriating that she would cry again.

  Again and again and again, over this. “Butt face.”

  “I’m sorry did you just . . . say . . . Did you just call me a butt face?”

  She covered her face with her hands and let out an irritated groan. “I don’t want to do this! I want you to leave.” She blew out a breath, forcing herself to look at him. He looked tired. Beat down. “How’s your Dad?” she asked, because she might think he was a butt face, but she didn’t want him to be a sad one.

  “Everything looks good.”

  “I’m glad. Really.”

  “I know.”

  “Now can you please go?” she asked, perilously close to tears.

  “No.”

  She wanted to stomp her feet and push him. Instead, she went for a low blow. “I really think it’d be best for poor Aiden if you did, don’t you?”

  He ran his tongue over his top teeth and let out a breath. “I get that I deserved that.” He kept that unreadable blue gaze on her. “But I’m not going anywhere until we talk.”

  “Why are you making this hard on me?” she demanded, trying to blink back the tears. “Last night wasn’t bad enough, now you’re trying to make it worse?”

  “I know you’re mad at me, and I know I fucked up, but I don’t think we automa
tically stopped loving each other because we had a fight.”

  “Sure, but maybe I don’t want to love you,” she threw at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

  His hand dropped and he inhaled sharply, standing so unnaturally still for a few seconds she was almost afraid to breathe.

  He wiped his hand over his mouth and beard, his throat working hard to swallow. She had to stare at his throat, because on his face was a kind of pain that even mad at him she regretted having put there.

  She wanted to run away. She wanted to hide. She wanted to sweep all this feeling—hurt and fear and fury—into some dark corner. She wanted it so bad she could hardly see straight, but there was this little piece of her reminding her of what he’d said last night.

  About her running away, and he hadn’t been right, exactly. She hadn’t run away last night by ending things, but right now she was running away from what Dinah had suggested—figure it out or cut it off. She wanted to hide from it, wait for it to go away, and that just wasn’t an option.

  “Let me tell you about this morning, and then if you still feel that way, I’ll go,” he said, his voice little more than a rough scrape, his throat still moving as if he found it as hard to breathe evenly as she did.

  Though everything in her screamed to refuse, she forced herself to nod. Figure it out or cut it off. This had to be handled, not run away from, even if the hardest part was the fact that he’d been the best example of standing up and taking care of things she’d ever seen.

  Grandmother and Dinah bulldozed through, and Dad swept things out of the way or manipulated his way to get what he wanted, but Liam stepped in and solved problems and really helped people. He cared beyond himself.

  That was half of why she was standing here crying as she unlocked her door and pushed it open though. Because she admired his ability to fix, she just hated his inability to draw any boundaries with it.

  She wiped her face with her palms as she stepped into her apartment. She heard him follow and close the door but she didn’t turn around to face him. She hugged herself and tried to figure out what it was she wanted from this.