don’t know. I’ll let you know at the time.” He nods to the quarter. “Your turn.”
Two hours later, Liam stumbles out of the bathroom. “It’s late. I should go.”
“You’re drunk. You can sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not driving, El.”
“You still shouldn’t go. Riding the subway drunk is a bad idea.”
“So I’ll take a cab.” He tries to focus on me. “You want me to stay.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He gives me a smug little grin. “Admit it. You missed me.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I missed you. Is that so bad?”
His eyes dart to my bedroom. He sighs. “You’re drunk, too. If you think—”
“I don’t think anything, Liam. I just want you to stay. Don’t you want to?”
“Yes. But not on the couch.”
I’m shocked. “You want to sleep in my bed?”
“I miss sleeping next to you. I haven’t slept well since coming home.”
I don’t tell him I haven’t slept well either. For the first time in my life, I’ve laid awake night after night, thinking about a man. Now he’s here, asking to climb into my bed. I’m practically giddy, and not from the alcohol. “Okay. I’ll clean up and be there in a minute.”
By the time I put away the pizza and brush my teeth, he’s passed out on the bed. I change into my sleep shirt and crawl in next to him. Part of me is relieved he’s asleep. I thought drinking together might make it easier for him to allow more. But now I know that’s not what I want. If he lets me touch him, it shouldn’t be because he’s drunk. It wouldn’t be real.
I watch him sleep. I’ve missed this.
Hours later, I’m startled awake by a scream. “Luke!”
I touch his arm. “Liam, it’s okay.”
His eyes fly open. It takes him a moment to orient himself. He blows out a long breath.
“Bad dream?”
“I dream about him a lot. I still hear the gun go off like it was yesterday.”
“Can I ask you something?”
He hesitates. “Maybe.”
“You said Luke killed himself, but you also said he died because of your father. I’m confused.”
“Don’t call him that. The bastard’s name is Don. He was never my father. He adopted us when I was seven. Luke might have pulled the trigger, but it was Don who killed him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
“If Don wasn’t your real dad, then Dirk isn’t your real uncle. Is that why you hate him?” He’s quiet, and it makes me think I’ve crossed a line. “You don’t have to answer.”
His breathing evens out. I think he’s gone to sleep.
“Are you still awake?” he asks a few minutes later.
“Yes.”
“I hate Dirk because he blackmailed my mom and me.” He sighs heavily. “And I hate myself for letting him.”
Before I can ask anything else, he gets up and moves through the moonlight to the bathroom. I lie here watching him cross the room, realizing I’ve never met a man who makes me so happy and sad at the same time.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Liam
Thirteen years ago
The past week has been the worst of my life. Luke is dead. Dad is gone. Mom is a basket case.
We’re at Dirk’s house. We haven’t left since the night Luke died except for today, when Mom went to collect some of our things. Helen sends me to find Mom for dinner. I hear her and Dirk talking in her bedroom. I stand outside and listen. Nobody has told me much. Only that Luke shot himself with Dirk’s gun. They think I’m too young to be a part of their adult conversations, so no one talks to me. Dirk is always on the phone. Sylvia cries every time she looks at me. Mom gets drunk.
“You read the letter, Dirk. It was clear as day. It explains why Donny didn’t come back after Luke died. Luke says right here that he called Donny and told him to stay away from Liam.” She cries in agony. “He put his hands on Luke. He molested my son. He ran when Luke told him he was going to tell me everything. I’m calling the police.”
“Hold on, Colleen. Don is gone. He hasn’t contacted me or been to work. He didn’t show up at the funeral. As far as I know, he’s never coming back. He can’t hurt Liam now.”
“Maybe …” There’s a long pause. “Maybe he already has.”
“The letter doesn’t explicitly say that.”
“It does in the one he left for Liam.”
“He left a letter for Liam? I’d like to see it.”
“No, and neither will Liam. Luke said he couldn’t protect him,”