Prove Me Right (13 page)

Declan helps me pack up my stuff and he follows me back to my apartment. I hug him at my door, and once inside, I unpack my shit. I can’t run away anymore. I left my apartment because it hurt too fucking much to be here. But now that I’ve talked to Liam, now that it’s out in the open, I can’t continue to dwell on it.

Who am I fucking kidding?

I walk down to the storage room and grab some empty boxes then carry them back upstairs. Pictures, his clothes, gifts, his soap, his favorite coffee mug—I pack up anything and everything that reminds me of him. Each time I rip the packing tape across a box, I cry. I wish it were that easy for me. To just put the memories in a box and hide them.

I make six trips downstairs to the basement of the building and stack the boxes. Back in my apartment, I grab my favorite fruity bottled drink and hop up on the counter.

Everything is bare. I hop down and walk in slow circles around the place. I move the two pictures I have left. One of them is my parents and brothers and me. It was taken at Declan’s graduation from boot camp. It’s an old shot but one of my favorites. The other is of Char and me at her wedding. I smile at my cousin and slide the frame further away from the other, giving the illusion of less space on the shelf than there really is.

I grab a couple of pictures off my fridge. One of baby Caroline and another of my parents and me. I prop them on the shelf and place my hands on my hips.

No, I need another one. You’re supposed to have an odd number of things on your shelves. I squat down and grab one of my many photo albums. On the first page, it’s Liam and me. Three years old, ice cream dripping down our faces.

Fuck.

I slam it shut and open another. First page. Liam again. Except, this time, he’s alone on his drum set. He’s playing at our eighth-grade graduation.

Dammit.

The next one. First fucking page. Second page. Last page. It’s all Liam. I shove them back in the storage containers then sit on the end of my bed. How do I even begin to go on? He was my entire life. Maybe I needed him so much it wasn’t healthy. Can you love someone too much? Rely on them for your happiness to a fault? Is it possible to die of heartache? Because that’s how I feel. Like I’m dying.

The betrayal I feel right now is so far removed from any emotion I’ve ever felt that I don’t even know what to do. He promised me he’d stop. Never once since I’ve known him has he broken a promise to me. Except now. And I can’t forgive him. What if he’s high with the baby and he passes out or something? I can’t risk it.

I need to get the hell out of here. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back yet. I grab my purse and decide to take a walk today. I need to do whatever I can to clear my head, and people say walking helps.

My breath comes out in short pants as I walk down to the lake. Once I get to the rock, I hop up and pull out my smokes, then realize I can’t smoke right now. Instead, I sit back and close my eyes, letting the sounds calm me for the first time since I walked into that dressing room. Footsteps sound on my left side, and I turn my head to see my cousin.

“Hey, bitch.”

“I never thought I’d be happy to hear you say that.” Charlotte climbs up on the rock next to me and leans over to give me a hug.

“He’s using again,” I blurt out, staring at the crests of the waves as they crash into the rocks.

She sucks in a breath through her nose and I hear her swallow a couple of times. “Meara, I’m … shit that’s ...”

“I know. What am I supposed to do? I feel like if I stay with him then I’d be enabling him. But then I feel like I’m betraying him by not sticking by his side.”

“Sweetie, I don’t know. I think if it was just a one-time deal and a mistake, I can see staying. But I saw what happened to you the last time, and honestly, I understand where you’re coming from.”

“What about when it’s not just me anymore, though?”

She pulls her lips in a flat line. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter 13

Liam

“NO. WALK AWAY, LIAM
.” Pierce stands outside the pub with his arms crossed, shaking his head at me.

“I just want to see her one more time. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” The last time I talked to her was at the hotel yesterday. I’ve gotta go back for the fucking band. This whole time I’ve been praying, and I’ve never done that before. I begged God to bring her back to me, to let her see how sorry I was and how much I wish it didn’t happen. I promised to quit drinking and using because I need her more than I need anything else.

“No.”

“Please, Pierce. Please. Just let me see her. I at least want to say good-bye. I need it.”

“Lee, man. You can’t force her to talk to you.” He’s sympathetic, but there’s also guilt in his tone.

“You’re one of my best friends. I’m fucking begging you. Let me see her. If anything, I just need to say good-bye.”

A crowd of girls walks up behind me, and I pull the brim of my hat lower and keep my back to them while Pierce cards them. Once their voices are gone, I turn back around. I’m not crazy famous by any stretch of the imagination, but if there is a fan here or someone I went to high school with, they’d want to talk. And I don’t want to right now. I don’t want to fucking talk to anybody but my girl, and she wants absolutely nothing to do with me.

“It’s the middle of her shift. The best I can tell you is I’ll let her take the trash out tonight.”

I nod and start to walk away, but he calls my name. I’ve avoided him like a pussy since he threw me out of her apartment. Afraid to admit to one of my best friends, one of the guys who’s always been there for me, that I’m a weak bitch. A fucking addict. I haven’t had anything since that night, and my body reminds me of it. Chills, cold sweats, puking my fucking guts out. But I’d live with that every day if it meant that she still loved me.

When I look over my shoulder, only a split second goes by before he lands a right hook to my jaw, then follows it with a punch to my gut. I force myself to look him in the eye, even though I feel like I’m about to puke and my jaw is throbbing so hard I feel my brain pulsing.

“Get some fucking help, man.” I deserved that. I deserve so much more than he gave me. He should have kept going and left me for dead.

* * *

The brick wall is cold against my back and when the door squeaks, I don’t move. If she knows I’m out here, she’ll probably go back inside. I’ve been sitting here for hours debating what to say to her. I write songs for a living; words are my life. But nothing sounds right. Everything seems like an excuse and I hate that.

She throws a bag in the large dumpster and turns to walk inside.

“Ahh!” She screams when she sees me, and I slowly stand, wiping the gravel off my jeans.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened to your face?” She rushes toward me and places her soft hand on my jaw.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

When her eyes meet mine, she quickly pulls her hand away and steps back. “What do you want?”

“To say good-bye.”

“You’re going back?” She sounds shocked, and a tiny part of me hopes it’s because she wants me to stay.

I swallow and the sound echoes in the quiet alley. “Yes. I have to. The record label will sue me if I don’t. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

She freezes. “I hope you get the help you need, Liam. And not for me, but for yourself and the other people who care about you.”

“Flight’s at ten in the morning. But once this tour is over, I’m coming back for you. I’ll never give up fighting for you.”

She pulls the door open and walks inside. Before it slams, I hear her response. “Prove it.”

* * *

I didn’t sleep last night. At all. When Meara walked away from me, I went back to my mom’s house and emptied a couple of bottles of her liquor. I normally drink vodka, but she only had about a quarter of a bottle, so I finished off the whiskey, too. Then I puked it up a half an hour later. My body was clearly pissed I was torturing it.

As I rested my head on the toilet, I promised myself that was it. That was the last time I touched a drop. I’m fucking embarrassed at the man I’ve become and pissed off that I allowed myself to succumb to my addiction. After I was in the hospital a few years ago and the band had to take a two-month hiatus because I was in rehab, I swore it was my last time then, too. I promised Meara. But she was still there then. She’s gone now, though, so I’m not sure where that leaves me.

I told my mom what happened this morning, and she made me feel even shittier, blaming herself for staying with my alcoholic, drug addict father as long as she did. I tried to explain everything to her, but she didn’t understand. Nobody understands what it’s like. I already contacted a sponsor, and he’s meeting me in Oklahoma at our next show. I know I have a problem, and I hate that I have to admit it. I hate that it makes me weak. I hate that it took my world away from me.

When I was growing up, I was close to my mom. We’d talk about everything. And when I got to that age where she embarrassed me wherever we went, I secretly loved the fact that she was always there. To know that she had my back all the time is a devotion only a mother has.

As ashamed and pissed as I am for my behavior, having my mother be disappointed in me is a new low.

After a silent drive to the airport, Mom dropped me off and I promised to keep in touch and do my best to better myself.

I check in at the vestibule and begin walking to my terminal.

“Lee.”

I’d recognize that sound anywhere. No matter how many people are around me and how loud it is, her voice is the best sound in the world.

I turn on my heels and walk out of the short security line at the airport. “Hi.”

She’s wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses and I reach up to take them off. I need to see her eyes. When I remove them, I suck in a breath. She looks so empty again. And it’s my fucking fault. I failed as a man and I despise myself for that. Being in a relationship means being a better person because of them, but I’m making her worse. I’m forcing myself to believe she’ll give me another chance. Without that hope, I don’t see much point in anything.

“Why are you here?” She knows how I feel about her coming to the airport. We never say good-bye here. It’s too final … too symbolic.

Without words, she leans forward, wraps her arms around my waist, and buries her head in my chest. I hold her as tight as I can, breathing in her scent, memorizing all that I can, wishing for so much, but knowing deep down none of it will come true. I can’t change the past, I can only hope for a miracle in the future.

She sniffles and pulls back then kisses my cheek. I’m focused on her eyes, so when I hear a snap, I look down to her ripping her star necklace off and shoving it into my pocket. “Good-bye, Liam.”

Meara

I turn my back to him to walk away, but he grips my arm and spins me.

“Don’t do this, Meara. I’ll fix it, baby. I promise I can fix this.” He’s begging me, desperate.

“No,” I whisper. “This isn’t something you can just put a Band-Aid on. There’s too much at stake this time.” I pull my sunglasses back on and shake my head as I take a step backward.

“I won’t stop trying. No matter how long it takes, princess. I fucking promise you I won’t ever give up. And you can count on me coming back. I’m not letting you forget about me.”

Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I turn and walk as casually as I can to my car where I parked in short-term parking. Once inside, I allow myself one final cry. My heart is begging my brain to forgive him and move on. Every time I try, each and every time I see a tiny crack of forgiveness, the vision of him in that hotel room convulsing on the floor flashes in front of my eyes.

I don’t remember the drive home. My entire body is numb, my mind frozen. Once inside my apartment, I sit on my couch and stare at the TV. I leave the power off and tilt my head at my reflection. My hair is greasy from lack of washing. I had no makeup on my face and removed all my piercings. Is this really what I’ve become?

I’ve been forcing myself to eat and I bought prenatal vitamins from the pharmacy the other day. I have an appointment tomorrow morning before the bar opens. I finally get to see my baby. I wonder what time it happened. If it was when I first saw him and all our clothes weren’t even off, or if it was when we were in the shower?

Sighing, I lie down and close my eyes. Nothing would make me happier than to wake up and have this all be a dream. But it’s not a dream, and I’ll have that scar permanently etched in the corner of my heart.

My eyes become heavy and I allow my lids to fall, wanting to sleep. The more I sleep, the less time I have to be awake to face reality.

* * *

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Kelly. Would you like me to call somebody for you?”

I stare at the doctor through tear-filled eyes. “I was pregnant, though, wasn’t I? The home tests I took said I was, and the doctor at the ER said the baby was fine.”

“Yes, you were. And, unfortunately, sometimes these things happen without cause. I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I know words won’t help, but please know you have my support. Would you like to get dressed so I can explain your options to you? I’d be more than happy to make a phone call to someone on your behalf.”

“No. Don’t call anyone. I’ll get dressed.”

“Okay. When you’re done, please stick your head outside and I’ll walk with you to my office.” Dr. Brand squeezes my shoulder reassuringly and, like everything else this past week, I get dressed in a fog. I walk to her office in a fog, and I listen to my options in a fog. I decide to have the procedure done in the office instead of waiting to miscarry at home, and I drive home behind blurry eyes. There is so much uncertainty in my life right now. So much falling apart and I can’t even make sense of any of it. Especially this. What just happened? How did this happen? This baby was the only thing holding me together. But now … now I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

My mind literally doesn’t process what it just heard, so I get home and call in sick to work. Nik checks on me later, but I lie and say it’s the flu. I’ve been lying in bed all day and night staring at a blank ceiling.