The Ending I Want(68)

Pushing away from Liam, I crawl to the toilet. I lift the lid just in time.

Liam’s there, beside me, his hands gathering up my hair and holding it out of the way, while I vomit dinner up.

“It’s okay, babe. Get it out of your system. You’ll feel better for it.”

This time, I will.

But it will happen again.

And again.

I feel like crying.

Liam will probably just think I’m sick with a bug.

But I’m not.

I’m sick because I’m dying.

I’m a liar and a fraud.

Liam is holding my hair back for me, caring for me, and he doesn’t even know the reason I’m like this.

I hate myself in this moment.

Hating myself isn’t a new concept to me. But, somehow, this hatred feels different to the hatred I’ve felt for myself ever since my family died.

Liam’s other hand starts to gently rub my back.

I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve to be here with him.

The sickness subsides to light retching. When that calms and I feel ready, I reach for the flusher.

I rest my arm on the toilet seat and lay my still throbbing head on my arm. “Go—now. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m going nowhere. Have you been feeling ill long?”

I mumble, “No.”

Another lie.

“Do you think it was the food from the restaurant? Because I feel okay. But I should probably go check on my grandpa.”

“It wasn’t the food.” It’s the ever-growing tumor in my head. “It’s just one of my headaches. They make me sick sometimes. I’ll be fine.”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

Another pain hits out of nowhere, like lightning striking through my head, splitting it open. I cry out in agony as my arms cradle around my head, trying to cushion the pain.

Stop. Please stop.

“This isn’t just a headache. Jesus, Taylor…you’re scaring me. I’m going to call a doctor.”

I feel him start to move, and that forces a quick response from me. I release an arm from my head, and I grab his arm, stopping him. “No,” I whisper. “No doctor. Just need my pills. It’s just…a headache. My pills always fix it. It’s just like the one before, remember?”

“No, it isn’t. This is worse, Taylor. Way worse. You’re throwing up and crying from the pain—”

“Please, Liam.” I lift my head a little, squinting at the brightness. I try to look at his face. “I just need my pills.”

He stares at me for a long moment, indecision written all over his face.

I let go of his arm and lift my hand to his face. I press my palm to his cheek. “I’ll be okay. I just need my pills. Please, Liam.”

He presses his hand to mine that’s still against his face. “Okay,” he exhales.

When he moves his hand from mine, I let mine drop, and Liam gets to his feet.

I think he’s going to get my pills, but he comes back with a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and hands it to me.

“I thought you’d want to brush them now because I’m carrying you to bed. Then, I’m getting you your pills, and you’re not moving for the rest of tonight and probably not tomorrow either.”

I don’t argue. I just put the toothbrush in my mouth and brush my teeth the best I can.

When I’m done, Liam takes the toothbrush from me, rinsing it and putting it on the sink.

He comes back to me. Bending down, he slips one arm under my knees and his other arm around my back. “Put your arm around my neck, and hold on,” he says softly.

I lift my arm and hold on to him.

Liam stands with me in his arms. I rest my head against his chest.

The smell and warmth and strength of him soothe me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble against his shirt as he walks.

“Don’t be.” He reaches the bed and gently lays me on it. “You’re sick, babe. You can’t help that.”

He brushes my hair off my forehead right as another wave of pain hits me. It’s not as bad as the last time, but it still hurts. I close my eyes against the torment, my face contorting.

“I’ll get your pills,” Liam says. I can hear the concern still in his voice. “Are they in your handbag?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

I hear him moving around. Then, I hear running water in the bathroom.

He sits on the edge of the bed beside me. “Here.”

He puts the pills to my lips. I open up, letting him drop them into my mouth. He slides a careful hand under my head, lifting it a little, and presses the glass to my lips. I take in some water, swallowing the pills down, and then my head is lowered back to the pillow.

Liam puts the glass on the nightstand next to me and stands. He crosses the room and turns off the light switch.

The only light in the room is the glow from the bathroom light that’s been left on, the door slightly ajar.

I hear him undressing. Then, he gets in bed next to me, lying on his side.

“How are you doing?” he asks softly.

I turn my head on the pillow, half-opening my eyes to look at him. “Better now that you’re beside me.”

He smiles and then presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “Close your eyes, Boston. Get some rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”