The Ending I Want(61)

“I didn’t see my grandpa again until the day my mother was murdered. That morning, I’d gotten up, gotten myself ready for school, and left the house. She hadn’t gotten out of bed, but that wasn’t unusual. And, from what I know, from what the police told us, Russ turned up at our house at lunchtime. They got high on heroin. Then, they got into an argument. Russ had been accusing my mother of cheating on him for a while now. I’d heard and been witness to the fights—some physical.” He meets my eyes. “They argued that day about the same thing…him accusing her of cheating. Guess the drugs were fueling his paranoia. When Russ was arrested, he said they were arguing, he hit her, she fought back…and the argument…got out of hand. Then…” He trails off, lifting a shoulder.

“Was she cheating on him? Not that she deserved to die because of it,” I quickly add, worrying how that could sound to him.

Liam shakes his head. “No, I don’t think she was cheating. But, that day, Russ believed she was. And he stabbed her to death in our kitchen. Our neighbor heard the commotion, saw Russ running from our house, covered in her…blood.” He exhales harshly. “My grandpa got the call. He was actually listed as my mother’s emergency contact. I guess he was the only family she had. Me, too. I was still at school. The teachers made me stay after everyone had left for the day. I was sitting in the headmaster’s office. I remember the way he kept looking at me. I knew something was wrong. Then, my grandpa turned up and took me straight to his house. He sat me down and told me what had happened to my mother. He hugged me for what felt like forever. I stayed at his house, and I never left.”

“Your father…”

He shakes his head. “He didn’t even come home for her funeral. He and Grandpa haven’t spoken since.”

“What about you and your dad?”

He lets out a laugh, a sardonic-sounding one. “I fund his lifestyle. Grandpa cut him off, and his trust ran out. I was a man by that point, and my business was doing well. He came begging.” He shrugs. “My father has never worked a day in his life. He wouldn’t even know how to earn money. I might have my issues with him…but he’s my father, so I couldn’t see him on the streets.”

This is the exact moment I realize just how deep my feelings run for Liam. And it frightens the hell out of me.

He looks at me, his lips lifting a touch. “The day I met you on the plane, I was supposed to be meeting him for dinner. He needed more money. He’s living in Boston at the moment. His latest squeeze is there. She’s about your age.” He rolls his eyes.

“I was there on business. He must’ve heard because he called me up the day before, asking me to meet him. Being the sucker I am, I went. I pushed back my flight a day. I waited at the restaurant for him. He didn’t show—unsurprisingly. Then, I got a text as I was leaving the restaurant, saying he couldn’t make it, something had come up, and asking if I could just transfer some money into his account for him. So, I decided to fly home early. Caught the next flight out. And there you were.” His eyes focus on mine, warmth in them.

“There I was.” I smile. “And I’m glad I was.”

I mean that. More than I can say.

Even if having Liam in my life is causing me inner turmoil, I don’t regret a second of the time I’ve spent with him because the thought of never having met him seems inconceivable to me now.

I don’t have forever, but I have this point in time. And that’s what matters. Spending my remaining time with him.

Because he matters to me.

“I’m glad, too,” Liam says, giving me the look that always makes my skin tingle and heat.

Sitting forward, I curl my hands around the edge of the seat. “What happened to your mother’s boyfriend?” I ask softly. I hope he went to prison for a very long time.

Leaning back, Liam looks away and pushes his hands into his pockets. “He hung himself in his prison cell before his trial.”

“Good,” I say, and I mean it.

Without warning, Liam gets up from the bench. “We should go.” Staring down at me, he pulls a hand from his pocket and holds it out to me.

I slip my hand into his and let him pull me to my feet.

He holds my hand all the way back to the car, breaking from me only to get inside. Then, he’s back to holding it again. Holding it like he has to, and I know the feeling because, right now, I need him just as much.

Liam starts the engine. The song playing on the radio is James Blunt’s “Goodbye My Lover.”

Liam pulls away from the university, my hand safely in his.

I touch my free hand to the flower still in my hair. I pull it free and press the peony to my nose, inhaling. It’s sweet but not overpowering.

I put the flower back in my hair and watch the buildings pass by as we leave, and I have this feeling of letting go.

The only problem is…I’m not sure what I’m letting go of.





“You grew up here?” My eyes widen to saucers as I take in the place. “It’s a castle. An actual castle. Is that a moat?”

I squint, trying to see the water around the huge-ass castle in front of me, as Liam drives us down the tree-lined driveway, which is longer than the street I grew up on.

Liam chuckles. “Technically, it’s not a castle. It’s called Hunter Hall. No, that’s not a moat. It’s a lake that encircles the back of the house. It doesn’t come around the front. To be a moat, it has to totally surround the house. And, yes, I lived here for the better part of my life.”