A shake of his head, a fallen tear.
“Then why are you talking aboutyourselflike that?” I ask.
“Because it’s different,” he says.
“It’snot. It’snot.” I climb off the bed and hug him tight, shaking as his hands wrap around my back. “I love you, and it’s influenced by our past, but unconditional to it at the same time.”
“You can’t say that, and also claim that I wrote you,” he whispers against my neck.
Maybe he’s right.
I want to believe I love Liam in the present independently of our past, but the truth is they’re intrinsically tied. And my understanding of him now is impacted by what happened between us four summers ago.
We’ve written each other since the day we met. Even if we didn’t always mean to. Even if we didn’t always notice.
I pull back and hold Liam’s eyes, my heart breaking at the realization. “Did I make you feel less important to me because you weren’t going to be drafted?” I ask in a whisper.
He sighs. “Not intentionally.”
But I’d done it by accident. Which makes me feel ill. A heaviness boxes me in, shrinking closer on all sides.
“It’s just that I could tell you pitied me,” he explains. “And I knew, Iknewyou’d been counting on my career to work out.”
Ihadbeen counting on it to work out. Because I had nothing else to count on.
“I’m so—sorry,” I manage. “It wasn’t—I never meant for that—It wasn’t even afactorin how I felt. I only wanted you, and so I wanted the things that would make you happy.”
He nods and sighs, asking, “Did I make you feel like you would’ve been less important to me if you hadn’t gone to college?”
I shrug. “Not intentionally.”
“Fuck,” he says, laughing raggedly.
I smile but it fades quickly. It’s actually not funny at all.
I step away from him, rubbing my hands over my face, and try to get back to the dilemma we’re facing now.
“You want the love songs recorded,” I say. “By me.”
He nods, then goes to a wall and leans a palm against it, looking at the ground. “Yeah, I really fucking do, Paige.”
“Because it’ll be me seeing something all the way through in a way you were never able to.”
His head ticks in denial. Or maybe confirmation. Another of his tears falls to the ground. He squeezes his eyes shut and whispers, “Because I’m not capable of letting you settle.”
It’s the competitiveness in him. The captain, the leader. He can’t not push me if he gets the sense I’m stopping short.
“You asked me in Nashville why I never called,” I say. “Remember?”
Liam nods, eyes flicking to me.
“Why didn’tyouever call?”
He looks at me sadly. “Because you were on track. And I was a mess.” His swallow is audible. “I still sort of am.”
The quiet has an echo. All our words, ringing back at me.
“You have to stop measuring yourself up against what you aren’t,” I whisper. Knowing it’s so much harder than I make it sound.
