“Yo.”
“Hey.” I take the beer, but I don’t take a sip. I let myself remember the cool feeling of the bubbles dancing on my tongue, a hint of sour and lime filling my mouth. Instead, I just hold it, running my fingers over the label, wet with condensation.
“Let’s head out back,” Liam says, already walking toward the side of the house.
“Where are Sophie and the girls?” I ask. “I’m going to block her from pulling in.”
“She took the girls to her dads for the weekend, and I have a side project to work on tomorrow, so I stayed behind.” Liam jogs up the steps of the deck and drops into an Adirondack chair. His dog, a golden retriever named Maggie, immediately trots up bringing him her beat-up tennis ball.
Liam takes it and launches it across the yard, reminding me that he used to be a pretty serious ball player. “Get it,” he says.
I sit down on the other chair. For a moment, both of us watch the dog go for the neon green ball.
“You good?” he finally asks, glancing sideways.
I shrug. “Not really.”
“Have a drink, it’ll take the edge off.” Liam takes a long pull from his own beer.
I shake my head. “Haven’t had one in a year.”
He turns, eyebrows up. “Shit. Sorry, man—I didn’t know.” He reaches over and gently takes the beer out of my hand. “Do you mind if I have one?”
“It’s fine. Honestly, just holding it was good for me. Like a little reminder.”
“Sounds like torture.”
I laugh once, short. “Sometimes you need a test of the wills, ya know?”
He huffs a quiet breath. “Yeah… I used to think that too. Then I realized willpower isn’t the enemy—silence is.” He takes another sip before adding, almost to himself, “I’ve had my own battle with the bottle. I used to think being numb was better than hurting.”
Maggie comes jaunting up the steps and puts her ball in my hand this time. I toss it half as far as Liam. She bolts anyway, tail wagging.
“You wanna talk about it? Or I can throw the game on, and we can pretend it’s just another night.”
I exhale. “Which part?”
Liam tips his head toward me, lips pulling to one side. “Whatever one’s stuck in your chest.”
“I guess I’ll start by explaining why I quit drinking. Two years ago, I got a DUI. Swerved to avoid hitting a kid on a bike and wrapped my car around a tree.”
Liam’s quiet, letting it settle. “Shit. But you were okay? The kid?”
I tilt my head back and forth, mulling over his question. “Physically, yes, but I’ve struggled mentally ever since. The kid was fine.” I rake my hands through my hair before resting my elbows on my knees. “I became the same type of asshole that killed Cara. I was so wrapped up in my career and the music industry. I lost sight of what mattered.”
Liam’s jaw works and he nods. “Booze can make monsters out of decent men if we don’t watch it. I drank myself stupid nearly every night after I lost Cara. Thought if I stopped feeling, I’d stop missing her. Stop feeling like it was my fault.” His voice goes gruff. “Then I lost Leah too. It was a different pain, but there was still that same instinct to disappear into a bottle.”
He looks at me. “Grief’s a hell of a drinking buddy. But Josh, you’re not that guy. You can’t punish yourself forever.”
“I know. I’ve done the work. Therapy. Meetings. All of it.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Tonight, I poured a glass of Jack and just stared it down until Melanie got home.”
Maggie brings her ball back to me, full of drool. I take it and toss it again. She watches it but then lays down at my feet instead. We laugh and I nudge her with my flip-flop.
“Ahh,” Liam says. “So, it’s not about the booze.” He drains the rest of his beer.
“Nope.”
Liam waits, doesn’t push. He just looks at me, his gaze steady.
