“That he wanted me gone,” I answer, watching his expression carefully. “Because the two of you apparently have something nice going on.”
I let the silence stretch between us before I add, “I hope that’s not true, Liam. I hope to God you see what he’s doing.”
“I know,” he says, quietly. Almost ashamed.
I dip my head. “Good.”
But it’s not enough. Not anymore.
He looks back at me. “Is that all?”
“No. It’s not.”
I take a breath, my heart pounding, and lift my gaze to his.
“Liam, I love you. I loved everything we had. I loved what we were building together. On the ranch, in this house, even in that goddamn baby-making room.” I pause, blinking hard. “But what I don’t love is how easily you let your father manipulate you. How you see exactly what he’s doing and still hand him the keys.”
“He’s my father, Olive,” Liam says, the words bitter. Defensive. “That’s what family does. You don’t just walk away.”
“No,” I say, firm and clear, “but you don’t sacrifice everything for someone who only shows up when they need something.”
I take a step closer, emotion swelling in my chest like a wave I can’t hold back.
“You’re not just enabling him, Liam. You’re dismantling yourself to keep him comfortable. And he knows it. He’s counting on it.”
His jaw clenches. But he doesn’t interrupt.
“What happens when he shows up again when the twins are here? Are you going to let him hold them? Be around them? What happens when he steals something in front of them or lies or throws a fit when we don’t hand over more money?” My voice breaks. “Are you going to sit up every night making sure he doesn’t sneak out the back door with the silverware? With their future?”
Liam flinches. Good. Because I’m done being the only one afraid of what comes next.
“I need to know what kind of father you’re going to be,” I whisper. “Because I can’t do this if you’re going to keep choosing him over us.”
Liam stares at me like I’ve just torn open his chest and exposed every nerve. His hands flex at his sides, jaw working, like he's trying to hold back a storm, but it breaks anyway.
“You think I want to be like this?” he snaps, his voice low and sharp. “You think I don’t hate the way he gets inside my head? I’ve been dealing with his bullshit my entire life, Olive.”
I flinch at the bitterness in his voice, but I don’t back down.
“I know, Liam. That’s why I’m asking you to choose.”
He steps closer, eyes burning. “You want me to choose? Between the man who raised me, even if he did it badly and someone who left the second things got messy?”
My mouth falls open. “Messy? You looked me in the face and asked if our babies were even yours.”
His face twists. “Because I was scared. Because I knew I didn’t deserve you, and it was easier to push you away than watch you walk.”
“Well, congratulations,” I say coldly. “You didn’t have to watch me walk this time. You’re driving me.”
His chest rises and falls, breath shaking.
For a long second, neither of us says a word.
Then, with a tight nod, he mutters, “I’ll get the keys.”
The ride to the airport is dead silent. The air in the truck is suffocating, thick with everything we never said right, everything we ruined.
I stare out the window, arms folded, jaw clenched tight enough to crack.
