“Good for you. That means you’re alive.”
“It means I’m terrified.” The sight of his truck pulling up makes my mouth go dry. “Oh, God. He just got here.”
“Go! Meet your destiny, young woman,” she says. “Call me the second he leaves.”
“Okay,” I say. “Hugs and shit.”
“Hugs and shit to you. And good luck.”
* * *
The front door opens just as I reach the hall. A cold blast of air precedes Liam, and when he walks in, his dark hair is damp, and he looks cold.
“That’s quite the storm out there,” I say.
“Yup. Another couple of weeks and it’ll be snow.” He takes off his light brown workwear jacket and hangs it on the hook to dry. “How are you feeling?”
Terrified.“Good, yeah. Stronger every day.”
His eyes roam over my cheek and down to my cast, and when he looks back up into my eyes, he sighs. “I wish it would have been me.”
“What? This?” I ask, pointing to my cheek. “Men dig scars. This is going to make me very popular down at the pub.”
He doesn’t laugh like I hoped he would, and I can tell whatever’s been bothering him is still on his mind. He swallows hard, then says, “Abby, I think we should talk.”
My entire body feels numb, but I smile anyway. “Sure, of course. You can tell me anything, Liam.”
“Come here, I need to hold you for a minute,” he says, his voice low as he steps toward me. He pulls me in for a long hug, resting his lips on my forehead and whispering, “Christ, you’re perfect.”
Perfect. I’ve never been called that before. The word wraps around my body and through to my bones, warming me. But when he pulls back, I see something is not right. I don’t want to hear it, but I swallow my fear. “What is it, Liam? Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”
He closes his eyes for a second, then sighs. “Abby, let’s go sit down for a minute, okay?”
I follow him to the couch and I sit down on it, while he sits on the coffee table facing me. His left knee is between mine, and he leans on his elbows and holds my hands, staring at them. “I have to tell you a story. It’s going to end badly, and there’s not much I can do about that part. It’s the bit before the end that could maybe be a little bit amazing.”
My mouth goes dry, and my palms start to sweat. Isn’t that odd? How two parts of the same body have the opposite reaction when something horrible is about to happen?
“Abby, you’re the best person I know. I’ve been in love with you for a long while now. I fell for you when we were on the way home from our first boat trip. Olive was asleep on your lap, and you were smiling down at her, and I just knew.” The words are exactly what I’ve been needing to hear, but I can hardly hear them over the blood pumping in my ears.
He sighs and gives me a sad smile. “I love the way you speak and the sound of your laugh and how silly you can be. I love watching you put your hair up when you’re heading out to the yard, or when you’re about to cook. I love listening to you sing along at the pub, and how you go for it even if you don’t know all the words.”
He pauses and looks out the window. The rain is coming down in sheets now, the world has become a leaden blur. I’m glad he’s stopped talking because I don’t want him to tell me how the story ends. Whatever he’s about to say, I don’t want to know.
“To someone else, what I’m about to say would sound crazy, but I know it won’t to you, which is exactly why you’re so perfect for me, and for Olive. I think Olive was right that you were sent to us for a reason. But it’s not the reason you may think.”
Liam finally turns to me and looks into my eyes with a pained expression. I recognize it immediately because I’ve seen it once before.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
~ Robert Frost
I stare out the thick plastic window of the plane. It is late evening and the lights of Portland are shining below. To an observer, I’m just a quiet woman with a broken arm who’s slightly tired, perhaps from a long day of travel. On the inside, I’m raw with rage. My head and my heart are in a fierce, chaotic battle as they pull me apart with guilt, fear, and a deep sense of injustice that cuts me to my bones.
It’s been three days since Liam told me the truth. Three days since I screamed in his face and called him a fucking liar and pushed on his chest to get him away from me. Three days since I told him to get the fuck out and never come back.
As soon as it was over, I was like a robot, acting out of pure logic—first a call to Eunice to tell her to come by and photograph the house because I’m leaving. Then booking an open-ended ticket home and texting Colton to offer him a job house-sitting. I didn’t bother going next door to say goodbye to Nettie and Peter. They knew. The entire time, they knew. So fuck them too.
