by Darcy Burke
He stood up. “It sounds like you’d want my home base to be here. I can’t do that.” His gaze was direct, unflinching. Frustrating as hell.
She didn’t understand his reticence. “Why not?”
“Aubrey, I don’t really want to get into this.”
“I know you have to go. We can talk about it later.” She tried not to be irritated and failed miserably. Happiness was so close. For both of them.
He looked at her and ran his hand over his face. Then he made a sound that was part grunt and part defeated groan.
He came to her and took her hand. “Look. I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before, until last night. I started to talk about it to Dad, then I bailed. Once you hear it, you’ll understand why I need to go, and I suspect you might just tell me to go to Denver and never come back.”
She ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’d never do that.” Even when she wanted to throttle him, as she had a moment ago.
He looked down at their hands. “You might. There’s a reason I don’t dwell on Alex, that I don’t . . . grieve. It’s my fault he’s dead.” His voice was cold, dispassionate. It was completely at odds with what he was saying—and it worried her.
She squeezed his hand. “No, it’s not.”
“Not my fault exactly, but I could’ve saved him. I should’ve saved him.” He looked at her, and his eyes were more anguished than she’d ever seen them. They were dark and flat, tortured. She’d compare them to the way they were during that first explosive encounter in her office, but this was worse.
“I knew he was sick—bipolar. He told me back in college. It was one of many secrets we kept.”
“Like the extreme sports.”
His eyes flickered with surprise. “You knew all about that, then?”
She nodded. “He told me.”
“He must have liked you. He certainly trusted you. What else did he tell you?”
“Nothing about his mental state. Remember, he lied to me about his actual health. He told me he probably wouldn’t see thirty. Naively, I believed him.” How she wished she could turn back the clock and ask for medical records. As if she really would’ve done that. It wasn’t like he’d asked for help with legally assisted suicide.
“Don’t beat yourself up about that. He was diabolical in his planning. You saw that video last night.”
Yes, and she was angry with Alex all over again. His death seemed to be the gift that kept on giving. The most horrible gift in the history of gifts.
“Anyway, Alex and I had a pretty good relationship from afar,” he continued. “We liked it that way because we didn’t have to be constantly reminded of the other person. He came up with stunts and sports for me to try, and I videotaped it all so he could live it with me.” He frowned. “Not that he actually lived it. I’d fooled myself into thinking that it was a mutually appreciated arrangement, but I was wrong. He wasn’t happy. He was worse than miserable. He was plotting his own death.”
He stepped away from her and walked over to the window seat. She waited patiently for him to continue. He turned but didn’t look at her. He focused somewhere on the wall near the couch. “You know that he called Tori the night that he died, that she didn’t get the call. He called me, too, but I answered.”
Aubrey lifted her hand to her mouth, so afraid of what he might say next.
“He called me late sometimes. He’d be drunk or just manic. He’d ramble, I’d listen. End of call. That night was no different, except his ramblings were extra dark. He talked about our relationship. He thanked me for staying away but said I could come home now. That it was all over. I . . . I didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t unusual. I had no idea . . . ”
She crossed the room but stopped a few feet in front of him because he still wasn’t looking at her.
“He said he was glad he had me. No, what he said exactly was, ‘I’m glad you’re with me now.’ Then he went quiet, and I thought he fell asleep. I hung up.” He looked at her then, and his eyes were surprisingly dry. “My dad interrupted my run the next morning when he called to tell me Alex was dead.”
Aubrey felt tears stream from her eyes, their wet heat tracking down her cheeks unheeded.
“You see, if I’d listened to him, if I’d realized he was that sick and wasn’t getting the help I thought he was, I would’ve handled that phone call completely differently. But I didn’t. Instead, I just sat there half-asleep and listened to him die.” His voice was raw, ragged, but there were no tears in his eyes, just a cold anguish that ate at her heart.
When she’d thought of the guilt he’d endured his whole life, she’d wondered how he’d managed. But this . . . this went so far beyond what she’d ever imagined. “Oh my God, Liam.” She went to him and touched his face, cupping his cheeks. “You just pushed this out of your head for the past fifteen months?”
“What the hell else was I supposed to do with it?”
“I don’t know. Talk about it? Get therapy? Let it out? No one’s strong enough to deal with this alone.”
He wiped her tears away, and she dropped her hands from his face. “I’m not dealing with it, that’s the point.”
“But you should.”
“Why, so I can relive that horror over and over again as I talk through it with a therapist? No thanks. Like I said, I’ve never told anyone, because I block it out of my mind. Being here in Ribbon Ridge around my family only dredges it up.” He took a deep breath. “Now you know why I can’t come back.”
“No, now I know why you need to deal with this, so you can come back.”
He shook his head, his eyes now sparking with anger. “I don’t want to. I don’t need to. My life is great.”
She took a step back from him. “You can’t possibly believe that. You were a mess when you came over last night.”
“Only because of that goddamned video. I’m never watching it again, and I don’t plan to discuss it with anyone.” He pivoted toward the door, then turned back, as if he’d forgotten something. “There’s a reason I never asked you for my letter from Alex. I didn’t want it. He said his good-bye that night, and I didn’t need another one. Damn it, Aubrey, this is my life. Don’t tell me what I need to do.”
She loved him so much, but love alone wasn’t enough. “I was hoping it might be our life, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Don’t say that. Look, I have to go. We can talk about this later. I wish you’d think about coming to Denver. You’d be happy there. With me.”
“I’m happy here, Liam. This is my home.” She’d already built her life here, just as he’d done in Denver. And it looked like neither one of them was going to compromise. “Go talk to your dad. I’ll see you later.” Or not.
He nodded, then left.
She couldn’t imagine where they would go from here.
LIAM DIDN’T BOTHER parking his bike in the garage. He was too anxious to get inside to see Dad. He felt terrible about leaving him last night. He went into the kitchen, but it was empty. Considering the time, he figured Dad was likely in his office, where he liked to drink his coffee and read his e-mail before heading to Archer.
Liam made his way to the front of the house and paused when he saw Dad—and Mom—sitting at the table situated in the front bay window. They were reading their iPads and drinking coffee, or probably tea in Mom’s case.
Mom saw him first, her eyes widening. “You’re back.”
Dad turned his head and took his glasses off. “Where have you been?” The question came out sharp, a bit angry.
Liam deserved that. He went into the office and dropped into the other chair at the table. He sprawled his legs out and draped his arms over the sides of the wood chair. “I spent the night at Aubrey’s.” He saw no reason to hide that. He’d shielded his emotions for so long, and he didn’t want to do it anymore—at least not about her. He wanted to bury his feelings about Alex so deep that an excavation team couldn’t find them.
“You’re seeing h
er, then?” Mom asked. “I like her a lot.”
“Actually, I’m in love with her. I’ve been seeing her—off and on—since Alex died.” He let a wry smile lift his lips. “You could say he brought us together.”
Mom folded her iPad closed. “Like Kyle and Maggie.”
Yeah, that made sense. Maggie had been Alex’s therapist, and Kyle had sought her out to find the person who’d sold Alex the drugs he’d used to commit his ghastly final act.
Dad leaned back in his chair and studied Liam. “As happy as I am for you, I have to interrupt that good news to talk about what you said last night.”
Liam glanced at Mom. “I’d rather not repeat it.” Ever.
“You don’t have to. I already told your mother. We don’t have any secrets. Not anymore.” He reached over and put his hand over hers, which rested on the table.
Great, so now Mom knew how he’d completely failed Alex.
“We don’t blame you, Liam.” Mom sniffed, but a tear leaked from her eye anyway.
Dad got up and fetched a box of tissues from his desk, which he set on the table. “Good thing we bought stock in this tissue company last year.”
Mom smiled as she dabbed at her eyes. When she was done, she looked at Liam. “Forgive me. We don’t blame you at all. Just like we don’t blame Alex. He was ill. What happened was a tragedy. Was it preventable? Perhaps, but we’ll never know. The way it played out, it wasn’t. He went when it was his time.”
Liam looked between them. “Do you both really believe that?”
Dad stroked Mom’s back. “We do.” He withdrew his hand from her and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. “To do anything else is absurdity and results in nothing good. Just look at you.”
Yeah, look at him. He was practically crawling out of his skin. Anything was preferable to this. He imagined jumping out of a plane, the air rushing over him, the thrill of taking flight. The perfect way to lose himself.
Which is why he did it.
He ran his thumbs along the wood of the chair’s arms and looked down. “Mom, Dad. I do all these extreme sports for Alex. He asked me to jump out of an airplane back in college because he couldn’t. He wanted to experience it, so he asked me to go and film it. I did, then I showed it to him. We were both hooked.” He looked back up, and Mom was staring at him, her mouth open.
“Why didn’t either of you say anything?” she asked.
Liam shrugged. “It was just our thing. Now it’s just my thing.” That admission carved a piece out of his heart. It was, maybe, the first step in accepting that Alex was really gone.
“You didn’t do it just for him,” Dad said. “Otherwise you would’ve stopped when he died.”
“It’s my lifestyle now, but I wouldn’t have stopped anyway. It . . . gave me something to focus on.”
“Instead of your grief.” Dad reached over and touched Liam’s hand. “I get it. I was there. I did everything I could not to think about him or the fact that he was gone. For months, I drove everyone insane with my dark cloud. Your sister did the same sort of thing last year. I imagine it’s been ten times worse for you. And I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”
“We should’ve known,” Mom said, her voice cracking. “You were his twin. You shared a bond. I should’ve come to stay with you in Denver for a while.”
Liam almost laughed. He could just imagine his mom hanging around his ultra-modern high-rise condo, maybe joining him on an extreme hike or waiting up for him when he went out to a party. “Mom, it’s okay. I wouldn’t have let you. I wanted to be alone.” He’d been about to say, “I still want to be alone,” but he realized that wasn’t true.
He wanted to be with Aubrey. With his family. He’d said more about Alex in the past day than he’d said in the past year. And it hadn’t broken him. At least not any more than he was already fractured. Maybe he could come home. The mere thought provoked a surge of anxiety. Where would he fit in this new Alex-free world? Would he ever be able to work through the guilt and the shame? Most of all, how would he deal with the grief? Because if he came back, he didn’t think he could keep it at bay any longer.
Mom sniffed again and blew her nose. “I think I understand why you moved away. I know it was difficult for you and for Alex. But I always thought you’d come home eventually. Why haven’t you come home, especially since you have Aubrey now?”
The argument they’d just had arose in his mind. He tried to articulate it for his parents. “I’ve kept myself separate for so long, I don’t know that I belong. Everyone here is happy. They’ve moved on.”
He took in his mother’s splotchy face and realized he was wrong. Yes, they were happy, and yes, they’d moved on, but they’d hadn’t forgotten about Alex. They’d found a way to grieve and to appreciate and celebrate his memory. Could he do that, too? He hadn’t thought it was possible. But maybe, with them and with Aubrey, he could.
“We’ve coped,” Dad said. “You’d fit in anywhere you wanted, so don’t use that as an excuse. You just have to want to try.”
Emotion welled up in Liam’s chest, but he didn’t want to succumb to it now. “There isn’t even a job for me here—you’re selling Archer Real Estate.”
“I wanted to give it to you plenty of times, but you always turned me down, so I stopped offering. I’m not offering it anymore. If you want it, you have to take it. You have to try, son.”
Suddenly things clicked. It wouldn’t be easy to confront the things he’d worked so hard to avoid—Alex and the guilt and grief associated with him and with the place he called home. But he did want to try. “I want it.” Everything. The job. His family. His home. Aubrey. He could maybe stop subconsciously believing he didn’t deserve those things. No, he had to stop believing that. “If you want me to buy it, I will.”
Dad laughed, and it broke the tension in the room into such small pieces, Liam doubted anyone could find them if they tried. “Even you can’t afford it. I’m happy to turn it over to you. If you really want it.”
Liam sat up in the chair. “I do.”
“What about Denver?” Mom asked. “Lion Properties?”
Liam’s brain was already working. “I’ll merge the two and put someone in charge down there.”
Mom’s face lit. “Does that mean you’re coming home?”
He nodded, feeling as good as he had last night in Aubrey’s arms. “If you’ll have me.” Hell, even if they wouldn’t. He was retaking Ribbon Ridge by storm.
Mom jumped up and rushed to hug him, practically tackling him off his chair. “I’m so glad.”
Liam laughed as he hugged her back. “Thanks.”
They straightened, and Liam stood. Dad joined them, hugging Liam for himself. “Congratulations. You’re the new owner of Archer Real Estate.”
“And you can stay here as long as you like,” Mom said, stroking his arm.
“Actually, I think I’ll be staying somewhere else, if she’ll have me. I know we have an awful lot going on this year with two weddings and a baby, but you might have to add another wedding in there.”
Mom started to cry again, but these were happy tears. “I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever see you get married. We couldn’t ask for a better daughter-in-law than Aubrey. She’s already part of the family.”
Yes, she was. It was one of the many, many reasons he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-one
AUBREY MADE IT through her client meeting. Then she made it through a phone call with a judge. By lunchtime she was ready to pull her hair out, thanks to Liam Archer and his stubbornness.
She left the building to get lunch at Barley and Bran down the street. After treating herself to her favorite roasted turkey sandwich with goat cheese and fig jam, she was feeling a bit better as she walked back to her office.
She was trying really hard not to be angry. While Liam had said he couldn’t come back to Ribbon Ridge, he’d also said they would talk about it. Maybe she could change his mind. Maybe there was the slightest chance he was open
to compromise. She’d do her damnedest to convince him—hadn’t he told her she was a great orator?
As she climbed the steps to her office, she worked to push Liam from her thoughts for the rest of the workday. She had a trial memo to finish and a deposition to read. Oh joy.
She went inside and said hello to the receptionist on her way to her office. When she hit the threshold, she stopped short. Sitting on her desk was a vase of long-stemmed red roses. She counted them—not a dozen, but seventeen. What an odd number. Red roses could only be from one person, couldn’t they?
She stepped into her office, and the door swung closed behind her. Liam stepped away from the wall.
“You brought me roses,” she said. “Eighteen of them?”
He came toward her. “There’s a reason for that.”
She took off her jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of her door. Then she rounded her desk, eager to put something between her and him. His presence here reminded her dangerously of their first encounter. She couldn’t help glancing down at her desk.
No, she couldn’t go there with him. There were too many things that needed to be resolved. But he had brought her roses. Red roses.
“What’s the reason?” she asked.
“I heard the number three on your tattoo isn’t your law-school rank.”
One of the girls had to have told him that. When? Why? What they’d shared that night was supposed to be inviolate. “You aren’t supposed to know that.”
“Blame Sara. I ran into her at the florist—she was doing wedding stuff. I was trying to decide how many roses to buy you, and she told me to buy eighteen because it would mean something to you.”
Aubrey frowned. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“It should—it means family. There’s you and your aunt and uncle—that’s three. My parents—that’s five. All of my siblings plus Derek—that’s another six, plus their significant others—that’s five more for a total of sixteen. And I had to include baby Archer to make seventeen.”
“There’s one missing.” Her heart soared as the math finally made sense.
