“When is your next therapy session?” my sister asks. My pulse thumps at the mention of therapy which brings me thoughts of Liam. God, I could use his cock as a distraction right now.
“In a couple days.” Though I can see my therapist whenever I damn well please. Break-up be damned.
“At least you can talk about this with him. I’m sure he’ll have some good insight for you.” She’s trying to be supportive, but talking about therapy is the worst approach she could take. Mom and my birth dad are the entire reason I’m in therapy anyway. I wouldn’t be who I am if she didn’t cheat on my dad. I wouldn’t be so fucked up if I was a real Fletcher.
Fuck. I don’t even know my real last name.
“Do either of you happen to know what Jason’s last name was?”
They shake their heads. Both of their expressions turn sad, though Carson’s has a heavier undertone of worry.
“I need to get out of here.” I dig through my bag to find my keys and my purse.
“Where are you gonna go?” Carson asks me, sinking into full-fledge mom mode.
“Out. I need a drink.” Fuck the consequences. Fuck the medication. It’s either a drink or a fuck or, if I’m lucky, both.
My sister’s eyes turn wide and she snaps her head over to Luke.
“I’ll go with you,” my brother offers. I shake my head, ready to tell him no, but he’s not hearing it. “Flynn, don’t fight with me. Not now. I’ll even drive.”
Whatever. At least then I don’t need to risk a DUI.
Unlocking my phone, I catch a missed text from Liam.
Liam: how’d it go with your parents?
Flynn: well I’m headed to get shitfaced. How do you think?
I throw my phone in my bag, not even bothering to check his response. Like he said, I can wait to talk to him about it in therapy.
Forty-five minutes later I’m at my favorite bar with my brother as a bodyguard.
It’s a little too late when I realize I should’ve checked my fucking phone.
Twenty-One
Liam
On a whim, I show up at the bar Flynn frequents. I can’t let her be there alone in her current state. I have no idea if this is where she is tonight, but I had to try.
I’m worried about her and she hasn’t responded to any of my texts. Miranda may have forced my hand in ending things with Flynn, but my feelings haven’t ceased because I stopped sleeping with her. Plus, she is my patient. Even though I compartmentalize and store the Flynn I slept with and the Flynn who is my patient in separate boxes, I can’t help but understand that she’s mentally unwell. I have an urge to help her, to protect her. Both as her doctor and as…more. Whatever that may be.
I walk up to the bar so I can at least sit down and survey the room. I’m not going to scour the place like a madman, even though a large part of me wants to. The bartender comes up to me, a flirty little thing with a low-cut top, but I brush her away. I’m not here to drink and flirt.
I scan the room, which seems useless. Bodies are packed into the space despite it being a weeknight. That’s the thing with new clubs and college towns; they’re always packed. As my eyes are focused on my right, to my left I hear a voice I could recognize anywhere.
“Luke! Get me another shot!” My head snaps to the left and I spot her dancing alone. Her eyes are closed and a few creepy motherfuckers surround her, waiting to grab onto her. What the fuck. And who the hell is Luke?
I cut through the swaying bodies, my eyes never leaving my target. Without thinking, I grip her upper arm, my hand almost wrapping entirely around her bicep.
“What the hell, man?” She shoves me and though the effort is futile, I’m glad to see she has some fight in her when a man grabs her.
“Flynn, it’s me. Come on, I’m taking you home.”
“You can’t I’m here with Luke.” I’m about to point out that she looks pretty alone, but my shoulder is grabbed and I’m spun around.
“What the hell, man, get off her.” As a reflex, my hand clenches into a fist, ready to fight if I need to.
“Lucas, don’t. It’s okay.” Flynn slurs and I instinctively shield her behind me in case things get ugly.
“Wait. Lucas, like, your brother?” I step back and Flynn rolls her sassy little eyes at me as she nods. “Shit, sorry man. I thought you were a creep.” I step back with my hands raised. “I’m Liam, Flynn’s—” fuck. I can’t tell him I’m her therapist. I can’t say we’re dating because we’re not. No matter what I say, he’ll question how we met. Sonofabitch. “Friend.” I throw in and her brother eyes me suspiciously. He’s protective of her, which I can respect.
“Her friend, huh?” His eyes narrow and he sizes me up.
“Look, man, I’m not looking for any trouble. I was going to help her home, that’s all.” I sound like every frat bro to ever exist.
“You look a little old to be her friend.” I am almost twice her age. I can understand why he’s skeptical. I know how this looks and it’s not good. Lucas puffs out his chest and Flynn finally steps in between us.
“Lucas, chill. This is Liam. He really is a—a friend. He wasn’t going to kidnap and kill me or have his wicked way with me or anything like that. Though, I wouldn’t mind the latter.”
“Gross.” Her brother shudders. “Okay, sorry man.” He extends his palm and we shake hands. “So how did you two—”
“Luke, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna let Liam drive me home. I have a lot I need to talk to him about.” I’m grateful she cut him off before he could finish his question.
We head out of the club and Lucas asks her twenty more times if she’s sure I should drive her home. She reassures him and I promise I’ll make her call once she’s home safe. With reluctance, he leaves.
I help Flynn buckle her seatbelt in my car and start heading downtown, toward the suburbs where she lives.
“Where are you going? I want to go to your place.”
“Flynn, that’s not a good idea.” My hands grip the steering wheel, turning my knuckles white.
“Liam, I can’t go home.” Her voice is dejected. Glancing over, I see the weight she’s carrying. She’s slumped in her seat, head resting in her open palm. She looks broken. “Please, can we go to your place?”
I nod and at the first chance I get, I turn around and head uptown, back into the city. The selfish side of me wishes she’d be a chattier drunk, that she’d spill whatever feelings and secrets she’s harboring under the surface. But I’m also glad she’s quiet, contemplative. I don’t want her telling me something she’s not ready to talk about.
In the time it takes to get to my place, she passes out in my passenger seat. I park my car and lift her out, carrying her to the elevator. She curls into my chest, snuggling against the crook of my neck. I lean down, inhaling her scent, and place a kiss on the top of her head.
Once I get inside my apartment, I take her right to bed. I lay her on the mattress, tucking her under the covers. I pull the curtains closed, shielding her from the lights of the city.
As I’m about to leave the room and let her sleep in peace, I hear whimpers. Sniffles follow and my heart splits right down the middle. I pause, torn. Do I leave, giving her privacy and let her believe I didn’t hear her? Or do I comfort her?
“Liam,” she whispers. That answers my question.
I curl behind her and she spins to face me, burying her head in my chest and softly sobbing into my shirt.
This is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. She’s headstrong and stubborn. She’s the first to say she’s heartless, a black void of emotion, that ice runs through her veins, yet here she is.
Broken. Emotional.
Seeing her like this, hearing her cry, is breaking my heart. I want to do more for her than be a shoulder to cry on. I want to take away her pain. I don’t even know why she’s crying, but all I can think about is making her smile. I don’t want to see her in any pain.
I brush my palm over her back, letting her get it all ou
t. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
I’m in love with her.
The morning comes and I wake up before Flynn.
I work out, shower, get ready for work, and cook breakfast before she rises. I bring her breakfast in bed, nudging her gently. Her eyes are red and swollen, the aftereffects of her night stained on her cheeks. I don’t mention it and I’m sure she won’t either.
“Morning,” I attempt to be cheery as if I’ve forgotten who I’m talking to.
“Hey.” She sits up against my fabric headboard and pulls the sheet up to her chin. She’s shielding herself. From me or whatever is going on in her head, I’m not sure. “Sorry about last night.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” I sit beside her on the edge of the bed after I place the tray on the other side of her. “Hungry?”
“Not really.” I’m about to give her a lecture about needing to eat, but she knows me too well already. With an eye roll, she grabs a strawberry and pops it into her mouth.
I sit beside her, not saying anything. I’m not going to push her. She’ll talk when she’s ready.
She takes a large gulp of coffee and reaches for her phone. Shit. She never called her brother back last night.
“You should call Lucas.” She shows me her phone, already having pulled up his texts. It seems he sent quite a few throughout the night. The poor guy probably didn’t sleep at all. “I like him. He looks after you.”
She doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are far away, lost in thought. “I’ll give you some privacy. Just leave the tray here when you’re done. Feel free to use the shower to clean up. I’m sure I have some shorts or something you can wear home.” Her eyes snap back to me like I’ve jolted her awake.
“Liam, I can’t go home. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t go back there.” The phone in her hand starts to ring and I see the screen says ‘Mom,’ but Flynn declines the call.
It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. It’s obvious things went poorly with her parents yesterday, but I’m not sure how poorly.
“You can stay here for the day, but I do need to head into work.” It is Wednesday, after all.
“Right. Okay. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
I shake my head. “Get some rest. Help yourself to anything in the apartment. I’ll call to check in later and I’ll bring dinner home tonight. You can stay here as long as you need.”
These are promises I shouldn’t be making. She shouldn’t even be here, but I can’t send her away. Not after that display last night and I definitely can’t send her home. Sure, I could push her toward her friends or her siblings, but I know her friends aren’t good for her. As for her siblings, I’m sure they have lives and jobs to get to as well.
“Thank you,” she whispers as I’m leaving the room. I close the door behind me and pause with my hand braced on the frame.
I’ll do anything to protect her and support her. No matter the consequences.
I know what I have to do today. It’s the first move I’ve felt confident about in a long time.
It’s my next step to take Miranda down.
It’s my first step to get Flynn back. For good.
Twenty-Two
Flynn
I could get used to being here. This is arguably the last place I should be, but I can’t stop myself from running to Liam anytime I need someone. He’s in me, like a bad cold I can’t shake.
I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn’t bear to say the words. It’s like if I say them to someone outside of my family, they become more real. And they’re real enough already.
I can’t go home. I can’t face my dad. Even though my room is the pool house and I barely run into my parents, it’s hard to face him. I’ve been daddy’s little girl my entire life. Now, that identity is gone. I don’t know who I am anymore or who he is to me. My life has been turned upside down and everything I know is a lie.
And my mother. Ugh, that incessant woman will not stop calling and messaging me. She’s left me upwards of five voicemails from her nine thousand calls and eight million texts. She needs to get a fucking clue. I don’t want to talk to her. Not now. Maybe not ever.
I sit up in a rush, pushing away from the cloud-like pillows enveloping my head. It didn’t dawn on me this morning when Liam mentioned I should text Lucas, but hi, Elvis is back in the building.
Liam met Lucas last night. No, Lucas met Liam. If he says anything to Mom about him, she could connect the dots. What are the chances of me knowing two Liams, one who isn’t my therapist? Not great. Shit. I hope I didn’t say anything last night to give myself away.
I pull up Luke’s texts and press the call button.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I say in lieu of hello.
“I’m just glad to hear you’re alive. Who was that guy last night?” Part of me is sick of keeping secrets from my siblings. I’ve done it for twenty-one years and now lying to them feels hypocritical. Like mother like daughter.
“It’s a long story. We met at that bar one night—”
“Say no more.” Not a lie, just a bit of an omission. “Are you okay, Flynn? For real?”
“Yeah,” I say as a knee-jerk reaction, then sigh. “No. Everything is different now.”
“Look, no matter what, you’re still my sister and I love you. Whether you’re full or half.” I grimace. “That sounded weird, but you get the point. Carson and I are here for you, whatever you need. If you need a place to stay, you can crash with Liv and me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.” I hang up and carry the tray containing the rest of my breakfast back to the kitchen.
On the bright side, I know what will get my mind off things. I have Liam’s entire apartment all to myself. Time to do a little snooping.
The living room closet consists of neatly arranged shoes and coats like a little OCD nerd. Moving to the living room, I glance over his DVD collection and can tell he likes comedy and action moves. Other than that, there are thick books and textbooks sitting around. Nothing riveting there. I move to the bathroom, wondering if he too has a secret drug addiction with bottles stored in his medicine cabinet. But no, I come up empty.
I don’t know what I’m looking for or what I’m trying to find. Maybe it’s the opposite, like I don’t want to find anything. I don’t want him to be too good to be true. I just want him to be good.
With every room I enter, my heartbeat thumps harder. Everything is ordinary and in place. Nothing is salacious or scandalous. Still, I save the best room for last. If Liam’s going to be hiding anything, he’s sure to keep it in his bedroom.
I open the drawers of his nightstand, but only find condoms, cologne, and deodorant. His nightstand is impeccably clean with nothing but a reading light and a picture of him and his daughter. I wonder if that was always there, because I surely didn’t notice it the first night I was here.
I move to his closet. On the shelf above all his clothes, there are multiple boxes, all with lids. None of them are labeled, but I’m sure something good has got to be in one of them.
I pull one down, grateful it’s not too heavy. Flipping open the lid, I pull out memorabilia of him and his daughter. My heart cracks looking at pictures of them together. There are pictures of him holding her in a pink tutu, wearing ballet slippers, likely at a dance recital. There are photos of them with an old chocolate lab, with a white face and a dopey smile.
Seeing these pictures sends lightning bolts of pain through my chest for several reasons. For one, my heart aches for Liam, for losing his daughter, but also for the little girl who suffered from cancer. Even more so, looking at these pictures floods my brain with memories of my own childhood and how close I was with my dad. He was always there, never too busy for us, especially not for me.
I shake away the thought, not allowing myself to travel down that path, and close the box back up. I store it away and pull down the next box beside it. This box has me sucking in a breath.
&nb
sp; There are pictures of him here with Miranda. Several pictures, detailing their life together. There are ones from when she was pregnant and when they got married. His ring is in this box along with a watch, engraved with the word always and the date 5.10.05. Barf.
My heart is cracking now for other reasons entirely, and fuck, I feel so stupid. Why am I here and why did I call him? Why did Liam bring me back here if he’s so clearly in love with his ex-wife still? How could I be so stupid? I mean, the man literally cut me off by telling me he kissed her. How many red flags do I need waving in my face before I recognize them?
Nausea courses through me. I have the sudden urge to bolt, but tears burn my eyes as I realize I don’t have anywhere to go. I can’t go home, but I sure as shit can’t stay here—or whatever Semisonic sang.
Before I can think or even move, the front door opens and slams shut. My default reaction is to freeze and panic, but I don’t give a shit if Liam finds me in here.
“Flynn? I came home for lunch. Are you still here?” His voice is shaky like he’s worried I bolted. The man knows me well. I wait for him to find me, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded with items of his marriage to her.
He opens the door and spots me. Relief immediately covers his face and a smile pulls at his lips until he registers what I’m doing.
“I was snooping,” I tell him point-blank. Why bother lying?
“I can see that.” He’s hesitant, like he’s worried I’m a stray dog easily spooked. “What are you looking at?”
“Your life. How it used to be and how you clearly still wish it was.” My arms match my legs, crossing over one another in anger.
“What are you talking about?”
“Liam, why the hell am I here? It’s obvious you’re still in love with your ex. Why else would you keep all of this stuff?”
“Come here.”
“No.”
“Flynn, come here. Please.” His voice is gentle. He offers me a hand and I cave to him. I always cave to him. He walks me over to his bed and we sit together. I can’t stand to face him. I feel like I’m a child he’s about to scold, but without all the fun spanking.
Reckless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 3) Page 12
