Losing Liam Page 6

  I slam the door to the bedroom, shutting him out, shutting everything out. The darkness embraces me as it always does, whispering empty promises of comfort which are only ugly lies, because in the darkness only pain and misery grows, and that bitch loves company.

  I throw myself onto the bed and hide under the covers, like a child afraid of a storm. I have survived this storm before; it washed everything away and showed me what was rotten and what I needed to fix. Fourteen years later, I find myself trying to barricade myself from the onslaught of emotion because I don’t know if my heart can survive a second battering.

  The darkness amplifies everything; the pain, the crushing devastation, and the sound of my breathing. That’s what I cling to.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  I hear footsteps. Heavy, determined footsteps that stop at my door. I keep listening and almost hear his hesitation as he stands on the other side before his fingers wrap themselves around the doorknob and turn it ever so slowly, as if he isn’t sure he should be doing it.

  The light beneath the door morphs into a triangle that enlarges with every inch he pushes, and I stare at it as my heart smashes in my chest wanting to escape my rib cage.

  “Evie?”

  His hoarse whisper is broken and thick with emotion. Or maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks, wanting to hear things that aren’t really there. I can’t really tell as his face is cast in shadow, a silhouetted monster at my door.

  I don’t respond.

  He clears his throat as if to make his presence known. “Evie?” he calls louder this time. A flicker of broken voice permeated this one.

  “I need you to leave,” I say in a voice that doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to someone stronger, better, braver. Someone who isn’t cowering in the dark.

  “Can we talk?”

  I intertwine my trembling fingers and bite down on my wobbling jaw. There was a time I would have chewed off my own right arm just to have the opportunity to speak to him, to tell him every mundane detail of my day knowing he would listen. But now there is nothing but silence. I guess after a while the sadness festered into anger, and that’s all I have to hold on to now as he tries to blow away the barricades I have built around my heart.

  He takes another step in but says nothing, and I feel his eyes searching the darkness, searching for me. He has no idea what it’s like to search.

  “Stop.” He does and stands like a statue as a profound silence gathers in the room. So heavy I could almost taste it. It tastes like emptiness. “Please.” I’m begging now because my strength is dwindling and I’m spiralling. “Please just leave, just go.”

  “The quote for the house—”

  I suck in a breath, knowing I will have to explain any delay to my mother. It’s just another conversation I don’t want to have.

  “Do what you need to do and close the door behind you when you leave.”

  He hesitates again, just for a second, before I think I see him nod and the door closes behind him, sealing me in the darkness of my makeshift storm shelter. I pull the blanket back over my head and pretend I can’t hear him moving around the house.

  Liam

  The back of my head hits the closed door, and I draw in a long breath trying to calm myself, swallowing to curb the emotion that rises inside me. She just dissolved into pain, nothing like the carefree, happy girl I once left behind. Evie reminds me of plexiglass; you can see right through her, every emotion clearly visible with every twitch of her lips and arch of a brow. She is breakable and indestructible all at the same time. No matter what keeps being hurled at her, she shatters and cracks but remains intact, somehow.

  I gaze at the flapping tarp above my head, the blue rippling across the walls like a silent sea, before I unglue myself from the door and begin looking at the damage left by the tree.

  The damage looks like my insides feel, ripped and torn and crushed in places, yet everything stands. The foundations are still strong, just like I kept them, just like Evie and I used to be. We might be ripped and broken, but our foundations were always strong. If I could only get her to listen.

  I walk around the house surveying the damage, and the more I walk around, the heavier my feet feel, like the anger that simmers to the surface of my skin is cementing me in place. Why the fuck does Evie get to be the one who’s pissed off? She says I don’t have a right to be, but she left me just as much as I left her. She never showed. She chose to forget me, to move and never look back. She chose to let our fire die. She chose. I didn’t get that luxury.

  With those thoughts circulating inside me like a vicious tornado, I measure fractured beams and count broken tiles noting down everything I’d need to get this job done and away from this ghost house. I press the pencil too viciously into the paper till I break the tip. Clenching my jaw and running a hand over my face, I let out a frustrated breath.

  This isn’t going to work.

  “You have the okay to start work on the Miller house.” His voice is way too fucking cheery for a Monday morning.

  “Great,” I say unenthusiastically as my stomach clenches and Evie’s tormented face comes crashing into my mind. “I’ll start work today,” I tell Michael through clenched teeth.

  “Wonderful, I’ll let Mrs Miller know.”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  He pauses, and a doorbell chimes in the background. A muted voice carries over the earpiece. “What’s the problem?”

  “I need Evie—” I clear my throat. “The occupant, gone.”

  “I’m sure you can ask her yourself.”

  “No. I can’t,” I say too firmly.

  “I see.”

  “Good.” I hang up and put on my best fake smile as Nessa gets in the car. She doesn’t even look at me. A day ago it would have bothered me, now I’m almost happy about raising a teenage daughter.

  She barely acknowledges me as I drop her off at school and go to the lumberyard to grab the wood I’ll need. By the time I get to the house, it’s well after nine, and I have no idea if Michael has relayed my message or not.

  Sitting in my truck like an idiot, I watch the house, wondering if Evie has left yet. Her car is still parked outside, but in a town like this, where the beach and the main street are within walking distance, that doesn’t mean anything.

  I decide to take my chances. Daylight is wasting, and although this is a well-paid gig, I’ve had to push a few other jobs back to accommodate for the urgency. I knock on the door and wait. I knock for a second time and still, there’s no answer.

  I find myself letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding and use my spare key to get inside. The tarp flaps above me as if in greeting, and I put my toolbox by the door using it as a stop before I get back to my truck to start offloading.

  The stack of wood is heavy, and it slips off my shoulder, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud that vibrates through the wooden floor.

  “Fuck,” I mumble as I bend over to examine the damage no doubt left on the polished floor, when Evie’s bedroom door swings open and her puffy eyes land on mine. Guilt stabs my chest for just a second as I imagine her crying throughout the night, but the shock turns into anger, and she glares at me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “It’s called work.”

  “Come back later, it’s early.”

  “It’s after nine.” She looks at the empty space where the big clock used to hang then back at me. “Michael was meant to call you and tell you to get out.”

  “Get out?”

  “That’s not what I meant, just that you shouldn’t be here.”

  She gives me a long cold look. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be here.”

  “That’s not what I mea—” But she’s already slammed her bedroom door in my face. “Fuck.” I growl at the empty space as irritation claws its way along my skin. A moment later I hear the pipes in her ensuite coming to life. Fuck Evie, if she wants a reason to be pissed off at me, I’m going to give her one.

  I walk over to the kitchen and turn on the hot water tap. A second later I hear Evie screeching, and I can’t help but smile. I turn the water off and wait a full minute before doing it again. Her scream is shrill, and I smirk as a savage satisfaction consumes me. I keep playing with the water every few minutes till the pipes die down. I busy myself setting up the sawhorse and some of my tools, when Evie comes crashing out of her bedroom. Her wet hair is frizzy and untamed, her skin flush and her face twisted in an angry hate mask as she scowls.

  “That wasn’t funny!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And yet even as I speak, a smirk slides its way uncontrollably across my face.

  She stomps to the kitchen where her handbag is thrown haphazardly on the counter, rips it off and shoves her hand through before turning to give me one last look. “You want me gone? Fine! I’m gone.”

  She marches out of the house without a backwards glance and stomps away down the road looking annoyed and flustered.

  Fucking perfect.

  Evie

  I check the clock for the hundredth time and push away another empty cup. I’ve been sitting here for hours. Watching the tourists and locals laugh and talk and enjoy each other’s company while I sit in exile waiting for my anger to die down. Anger is such an easy emotion; it hides everything else and it’s easy to grab onto, and I do, because if I don’t, all these other emotions it masks might come bursting to the surface, and I’m tired of letting them control me. I’m tired of shedding tears for someone who doesn’t deserve them.

  I get up even more annoyed and make my way back to the house. The town is sprawling with tourists and feels too busy, too full. In a place that’s teeming with couples, holiday makers and locals enjoying the summer sun, I just want to be alone.

  I stop in front of the house. His truck still sits in the driveway, the load of wood that weighed it down in the morning now offloaded and the whirring of a circular saw leaks from inside.

  I draw in breath, seeking to steel my frayed nerves, and walk through the door.

  The salty breeze tickles my face and the sounds of the saw die away as I step further inside. The furniture is covered in sheets of plastic which in turn are layered in fine white dust. Like light snow has fallen in the house. A few power tools line the walls, and timber beams are piled up in a neat stack.

  I freeze for a second as I catch movement, and Liam walks into the foyer. His clothes are covered in the same fine dust, and he stops. We eye each other for an uncomfortable moment.

  “Are you almost done?”

  “No.” He looks behind him where the gaping hole in the roof hangs open like a hungry mouth like it should be obvious.

  I study his face, the harsh line of his jaw, the dark eyes, the hair peeking from beneath the cap. “I got tired of waiting,” I hiss out. He winces at my comment, and I sidestep him, heading towards the kitchen.

  “I’d like to take advantage of daylight. The more I can get through, the quicker I can get this done and out of your hair.”

  An image of his hand running through my hair flickers in my mind, and I beat it away. “Don’t you need to get home to your daughter?”

  His eyes darken for a second, and the muscles twitch around his jaw before he looks at his watch. “No, she goes home with a friend.”

  I purse my lips and feel the tension close in around us. His daughter; one of so many unanswered questions. My mouth feels suddenly dry, and I reach for a glass. “Would you like some water?”

  “Thanks,” he says. A ghost of a smile touches his face, and for a second I get a glimpse of the boy I used to know. Liam takes a step closer to the kitchen island that separates us like a big endless sea, each of us safe inside our own boundaries.

  I pass him the glass, and his fingers brush over mine as he grips it. The sensation sends a shiver along my body, a familiarity that has me remembering things I should not be remembering. I jerk back like I’ve touched a hot flame and take a long sip, my mouth suddenly parched.

  “How long have you been living here? Why didn’t you find me? What happened to you?” I suddenly snap at him without thinking.

  The muscles of his shoulders bunch up and his neck cords as he puts the water glass down. “Shit happened. Why the hell are you even here? You never come down here.” His harsh tone startles me, and I almost take a step back.

  “How the hell would you know what I do? And that’s not an answer.”

  “Well, you haven't answered mine either.” His deep voice washes over me as his lips thin and he cocks his head to the side.

  “I think you should leave.” I set my glass aside and glare at his beautiful angry eyes.

  He tips his head in resignation, and his hands instinctively move to the belt around his hips as he loosens it. I can’t help but stare at the corded strong arms and the tattoos that cover them. He catches me staring and gives me a knowing grin before he puts the belt away. “I need to pack up.”

  “It’ll be fine. I promise not to touch any of your precious things.”

  He throws me an annoyed look and digs his keys from his pocket. “Whatever,” he throws at me as he storms out. A minute later, his engine roars to life outside, and he drives off.

  There’s a long rumble in the distance as if the sky is having a laugh at my expense. Fuck the sky, fuck Liam, and fuck this place. I throw out the remaining water from my glass and reach for the liquor cabinet, pulling out the vodka.

  Liam

  The shower washed away the sawdust but none of my agitation. I’ve called Dylan back and agreed to meet him for a drink down at the Lion’s Head. There are two bars in town, the new posh one with modern decor, too-loud pop music and a bunch of thirsty tourists. The locals visit it when they want to get their dicks wet for a night. The other one is the Lion’s Head, an institution. One of the first buildings erected when they built this town and debatably still the most popular with anyone after an actual alcoholic beverage. With cheap drinks and a cheap atmosphere, it’s easy to pass a night there, especially with many of the local men trying to pick up at the new place.

  I tell Nessa that I’m heading out, and she barely looks up from her phone long enough to say goodbye. A part of me twinges with guilt, the part of me that feels that I should be doing better for my kid, be a better parent, spend more time. But as much as I love Nessa, she is a fourteen-year-old monster wearing the skin of a teenage girl, and she knows how to press each and every one of my buttons. Today I need a break, and she doesn’t seem to care either way.

  I walk into the pub and spot Dylan leaning against the bar. He’s chatting up his on-again, off-again, friend with benefits, Liv, and the way she is leaning into his words and biting her bottom lip, I’m guessing they are on again. I shake my head knowing it will only last a few weeks and I’ll be forced to drink at the new joint for a few months till we’re allowed back here. Fucking great.

  Dylan spots me and winks at Liv before holding two fingers up and pushing away from the bar. He finds a booth and we colonise it before Liv shows up with two shots of tequila, two pints of beer, and a smile for Dylan that needs no explanation.

  We grab our tequila shots and slam them back. The liquid is like fire running down my throat and ignites my belly. I slam the shot glass on the table and take a sip of my cold beer, letting it soothe the lick of fire left behind from the tequila.

  “What happened to you last night?” Dylan asks between sips, his eyes tracking the shape of Liv’s arse.

  “Nothing, just needed a night in.”

  “With Olivia?” He winks at me, forming a circle with his thumb and finger with his right hand and sticks a finger from his left hand inside it. “Oh Liam, oh Liam,” he cries in a high-pitched voice, earning us a few looks from around the room. I roll my eyes and punch him in the arm.

  “Fuck off.”

  He laughs and takes another sip. “So you guys are getting serious then?”

  “She keeps showing up uninvited, that’s not a thing.”

  “You didn’t complain when she sucked your dick in the toilets the other night.”

  I shrug. “Her choice. I told her I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

  “Speak of the devil…” His voice trails off as I turn around just in time for my eyes to collide with Olivia as she makes her way to our table.

  “Fuck,” I swear under my breath. I don’t have time for this shit. All I wanted was a quiet drink with my one friend, talk some shit, maybe even laugh and go home with a fuzzy head before having to deal with Evie again tomorrow.

  “Room for one more?” She sounds cheery as fuck as she ogles me.

  “No.”

  “Sure,” we say in unison, and Dylan shoots me a quick look. These small-town folks are all about pretence and manners; you don’t turn people away, even if you want to, and you’re always nice—but just to their faces.

  I sigh and plaster on a fake smile, correcting myself. “Of course.”

  Her smile falters, but she stands by the booth waiting for me to slide over. When I don’t, she lets out a little puff then bends down till she’s practically sitting on me and slides slowly across my thighs, ensuring her arse glides along my groin before she shuffles off and tucks her body against mine.

  Dylan’s eyes glint with amusement. I grab my beer and take another sip. Maybe if I pretend she isn’t here long enough, she’ll get bored and go away. I know it’s not fair, and it’s not really her fault. Olivia is a great woman; she’s intelligent and funny, and her tongue can do things that could make a grown man cry. A day ago, I wouldn’t have minded. I might have even gotten a hard-on and taken her home with me, but today? Today I have only one woman on my mind, and I can’t seem to pry her out of my system.

  “Where were you last night? I called you,” she coos, clinging to me, and my skin feels like it’s crawling with insects. I notice Dylan biting his lower lip trying hard to hold his laughter inside.