The Lies That Define Us Part 17

I took the seat across from my mom and ran my fingers through my hair.

She stared at me, watching my movements with a knowing smile.

"What?" I asked, trying-and probably failing-to keep the sneer from my voice.

"Your lips are red," she commented, raising a gla.s.s of wine almost like she was toasting me. "Don't even try to lie your way out of that one, Liam."

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning my head back.

My dad chuckled, clearly enjoying my pain.

I chose to ignore what she said and instead cut a piece of the steak my dad had grilled.

"This is good, Dad," I said as I chewed. Maybe if I doled out some compliments they'd go easy on me with whatever it was they were up to. "You look nice, Mom."

My mom laughed, taking a sip of wine. "Oh, Liam, you think you're so clever."

That was the thing about Moms-they always knew when you were full of s.h.i.+t.

I set my fork and knife aside and crossed my fingers together. "I a.s.sume you both wanted to talk about something with me, so speak."

My dad narrowed his eyes on me, his brows furrowing into one straight line. "We can talk and enjoy our meal. This isn't a business proposition, so don't act so formal." He nodded at my folded hands.

I stared straight at him as I lifted my fork and took a bite of potato.

He shook his head, fighting a smile.

"We just want you to be happy, Liam, that's all we've ever wanted for you," my mom spoke, drawing my attention to her. "We always knew you'd end up moving out here, but not the way you did. You just left, Liam, and you've never come back. Not for any holiday, not to see your cousins, nothing. What about your friends? Spencer? Kennedy?"

I saw f.u.c.king red.

I stood up from the table so fast the chair behind me hit the wall and fell to the floor.

I pointed a rough finger at my mom, my words hissing between my teeth. "Don't ever speak their f.u.c.king names to me. They're dead to me."

My mom stared at me in shock, and my dad looked like he was about to bust a vein in his forehead. He stood up too, glowering at me.

"You don't talk to your mother like that. Apologize."

I closed my eyes, taking a calming breath while my hands fisted at my sides. "Sorry, Mom," I muttered, before storming from the room.

I pa.s.sed a wide-eyed Ari in the hall as I headed into the kitchen.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and started to leave, but ended up back-tracking and grabbing two more.

I heard my mom and dad speaking in the dining room, and Ari had followed me into the kitchen.

"Liam-" She tried to reach out and grasp my arm, but I swiveled away from her, heading for the back door.

"Not now, Ari," I barked at her. "Not now," I said the last in a soft, pleading tone.

I couldn't deal. I needed to drown my f.u.c.king sorrows and forget everything.

I didn't want to remember.

I didn't want to feel.

Because if I felt, then I had to hurt.

Ari.

I watched Liam leave; the gla.s.s door shook from the force from which he'd closed it.

My mind was full of so many questions.

Why'd you kiss me again?

Why did I like it?

Who're Spencer and Kennedy?

Why won't you talk to someone?

He'd sounded so broken, and I just wanted to hold him, like maybe I could keep him together. It was a stupid thought, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from wanting to help him.

I backed out of the kitchen and walked over to the dining room.

Mathias and Remy sat, speaking in hushed tones.

I cleared my throat, and they both looked up.

"I just..." I began, unsure of what to say. "I just want you guys to know that Liam might be angry and bitter about something, but he's still a good person. A bad person wouldn't have let a strange girl live with them, or feed them, and buy them clothes. He's helped me so much, and he didn't have to." I picked up the fallen chair and righted it. My hands curled around the top, holding on. "He's not always pleasant to me, but I know that's because he's been hurt. That's obvious to me. For whatever reason, he doesn't want to talk about what happened, and whatever it was, he's let it push him away from his home, which sucks. But he does care about people. He's a little lost right now, but he'll find his way back. People always do."

I stood awkwardly after finis.h.i.+ng my mini-speech.

"Thank you, Ari." Remy smiled up at me.

I nodded. "Well, um, I'll just be going to bed now," I muttered, taking a step out of the room.

When they said no more, I scurried away and up the steps.

I knew Liam didn't need me to defend him, and he'd be p.i.s.sed if he knew I had, but I needed his parents to know that he was okay. Maybe he wasn't the Liam they always knew, but he wasn't completely gone. His heart was still there, buried beneath the rubble.

The sun had completely gone down, so I closed the blinds in my room and changed into my pajamas.

I turned the TV on before settling into bed. I hoped a stupid reality show or sappy movie could distract me from thinking about Liam.

I should've known better.

An hour later I got out of bed, unable to stand not knowing whether or not he'd come back, and ventured out into the hall.

I noticed the door to the room Mathias and Remy were staying in was closed, but Liam's was still open, which meant more than likely he was still out there on the beach.

I tiptoed downstairs so as not to disturb his parents.

The house was dark, with only one lonely light on in the family room to help illuminate my way.

I skimmed my fingers along the wall as I walked, using that to help guide me through the house.

Liam didn't seem to be in the house-unless he was locked in his secret room.

I trusted my gut, though, and my gut was guiding me to the beach.

I stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind me.

The night was chilly; a slight wind whipped around that blew my hair in all directions. I wrapped my arms around myself and continued forward.

I'd forgotten shoes, and the steps to the beach were cold beneath my feet. I s.h.i.+vered but didn't turn around to grab a jacket or shoes.

When I reached the beach, my feet sunk into the sand. I whipped my head back and forth, searching the stretch of beach for Liam, but I didn't see him anywhere. He could've gone in either direction, but I chose to go straight, figuring that would be the most likely way he would've stormed off in anger.

It was eerie out on the beach by myself; the darkness, and the wind played tricks on me. My heart rate picked up speed, and I feared that I wasn't alone-that someone, other than Liam, was creeping around. My pace quickened, and I began to almost jog. Coming out to the beach virtually alone had been stupid. If Blaise and his men had found me I was a sitting duck.

"Liam?" I called, the single word coated with fear.

I looked to my left and right, but I didn't see him.

I almost turned around to either go back to the house or to try the other direction, but that's when I saw him.

He was sitting in the sand, close enough to the ocean that the water nearly touched his toes when it crested the beach. Empty beer bottles sat beside him, and he had his arms draped over his knees, his head hanging low.

He looked like a puppy that had been kicked and tossed outside.

I didn't bother calling out to him. Instead, I walked over and sank down onto the beach beside him. Sand stuck to my hands, and I brushed it off on my sweatpants. I didn't say anything; I knew enough about Liam now to know he didn't want words. If I spoke, he'd get p.i.s.sed and send me away, but if I sat there and didn't say a word, well, I thought he'd appreciate that.

I tied my hair back into a sloppy ponytail, securing it with the band that I almost always wore on my wrist.

I'd sit next to him as long as he needed me to.

He took a deep breath and let it out shakily. I knew he was aware of my presence, even though he didn't acknowledge me in any way.

I watched the water creep near our feet before receding again. The night was quiet except for the roar of the ocean. There was a peacefulness to the quiet beach, like we existed a world apart from everything else.

Minutes went by, and still Liam did not speak. He occasionally raised his last bottle of beer to his lips, drinking the liquid down like it was the only thing keeping him alive. When it was empty, he dropped it onto the sand beside him, along with the other two empty bottles.

"I've tried so hard not to care," he whispered, "but that's the problem. I still f.u.c.king care, even when I look like I don't."

I glanced over at him, surprised he'd spoken. I didn't dare say anything in response, scared that if I did it would break the spell cast over him.

He roughly scrubbed his hands over his face. "I keep seeing it over and over in my mind. You'd think by now I'd be desensitized to it, but I'm not. All I see is my best friend f.u.c.king my girlfriend-the girl I thought I was going to marry one day. I see them both destroying my faith in people. My trust. I realized in that moment people only use me because of who I am..." He laughed, shaking his head. "Because of who my dad is, people think I'm an object. Like I don't have feelings or something. After that day, I swore that's what I'd become-someone who doesn't feel. If you can't feel, you're unstoppable." He let out a pent-up breath. "I went a bit crazy because of that. I performed tricks far too difficult for my skill level at the time. I didn't care anymore whether I lived or died. Sounds dramatic, I know." He groaned, rubbing his jaw. "I just wanted to feel something besides the heartbreak. I didn't want to feel the sting of their betrayal. I ended up getting hurt pretty bad. Ripped my arm on some coral." He turned his arm so I could see the jagged scar on his bicep. "Took more st.i.tches than you want to know to put me back together." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I've never really let myself accept what happened, and so it still hurts today."

I finally felt brave enough to speak. "Explain it to me then. Maybe if you talk about it, from the beginning, it'll make you feel better."

He looked at me doubtfully, but then surprised me by speaking.

"Spencer had been my best friend since we were young. He lived only a few houses away from me when we were growing up," his voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he hated giving life to this story, "and Kennedy... I met her my freshman year of high school. As soon as I saw her, I was a love-sick fool. Spencer was too," he groaned. "Normally, one of us would back off if we liked the same girl, but neither of us did this time. We both pursued her and she chose me." He grew quiet, shaking his head. "Spencer was p.i.s.sed and told me she only chose me because of my last name. I didn't believe it for one second. I was blinded by what I felt for her. At the time I thought it was love, but I know now that wasn't it. Kennedy and I were together all through high school. Until a few days before graduation." He closed his eyes and a look stole over his face like he was bracing himself for a storm. "I went over to Spencer's house to grab something. I don't even know what it was now. I heard them, and I didn't even think anything of it at first; Spencer dated lots of girls, so it wasn't anything new for him to have a girl over. But then she said his name, and I knew he was with Kennedy. I recognized her voice. I lost it. I stormed into his room, and there they were. I don't even really remember what happened after that. I think I blacked it out. I'd trusted Spencer, and I loved Kennedy in whatever way I could really love someone at that age. I'd been with her so long that I'd begun to imagine her in my future. She talked about moving to California with me, saying that she wasn't ready for college. Now, I think, she just wanted a free ride. If she'd lived with me she wouldn't have had to have worked or done anything. I would've taken care of her, and she knew that. Graduation came, and it was f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. I hadn't told anyone what happened, and I avoided Spencer and Kennedy like they were the second coming of the plague. The next day, I left. My parents had already bought this house for my graduation present, and I couldn't take the chance of running into Spencer or Kennedy. So I got here, grabbed my board, and paddled out into the water." He pointed toward the ocean. "And I vowed to never fall in love again. Love is too messy and complicated, and I don't need that in my life." He lowered his head to me, his eyes flickering over my face. "And I was fine with that. Until you."

Until you.

"You..." he began, rubbing his hands over his face. "f.u.c.k, I don't even know. I tried to distance myself, but with you living in my house it's kinda impossible to avoid you all the time, and more than that, I don't want to." He looked at me with gla.s.sy eyes. "I like hearing you in the house, and smelling your perfume linger in a room, and seeing you make breakfast. It makes me happy, and I haven't felt happiness in so long that I've tried to fight it. It's so much easier to feel anger than anything else." He lowered his hands and looked at me forlornly. "And you know what, Ari, I'm so sick and tired of fighting so hard to be something I'm not. I'm tired of letting the anger eat up my insides. I'm tired of pus.h.i.+ng away my family. I'm tired of not trusting anyone but myself. It's f.u.c.king exhausting."

I tentatively reached out, my fingers shaking-whether from the chilly air, or my own nerves I wasn't sure-and placed my hand on his arm, sliding it around to rest on his heart. "Then stop fighting," I breathed. "Show everyone the real Liam."

He hung his head before sweeping his gaze over me. He started at the top of my head, flicking his eyes over my face, cascading down my neck, and then all the way down to my toes where they were currently buried in wet sand. My toes wiggled beneath his gaze, and I s.h.i.+vered.

"I'm gonna try," he whispered into the crisp night air.

I cleared my throat and watched the water creep toward our feet. "You need to start by explaining that to your parents." I glanced over at him, waiting for his reaction. "They love you."

He collapsed onto his back in the sand, staring up at the starry night sky. "I know," he mumbled. "Saying it out loud makes me feel so f.u.c.king stupid, though. I've been such a d.i.c.k to so many people, and what for?"

"Hey," I scolded, rolling over to lie on my stomach propping my head in my hands. "You were hurt. Your trust was betrayed by the girl you loved and your childhood friend, and there's nothing stupid about that. It's a natural reaction to want to shut yourself off when something bad happens, but you know what, Liam?"

"What?" His voice was gruff and he tilted his head down to me.

"When you shut down, those feelings of anger and betrayal only grow, eating you alive, but when you allow yourself to be happy, to move on, it heals that part of you that was broken. Don't get me wrong, there's still a scar there, but it's no longer a gaping wound." I tugged my hair over the side of one shoulder, trying to keep it from blowing in every direction.

He looked back up at the night sky, his breath wheezing through his lips.

"You speak from experience," he murmured at the sky. He said the words firmly, with no doubt or question in his tone.

"Everybody's been through something," I responded, picking up a handful of sand and watching it sift through my fingers. A clump of damp sand stuck to my palm and I wiped it on the leg of my sweatpants.

"Ari?" he broached hesitantly, sitting up and tipping his head in my direction. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever happened to you, and I'm sorry for being such an a.s.shole. Can we start over?" His Adam's apple bobbed, and he looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes.

I stared at him, processing what he'd said. Finally, I nodded, just a slow dip of my chin, but you would've thought I'd handed him an Oscar the way his face lit up.

He held his hand out to me. "Liam Wade. It's nice to meet you."

I laughed at his silliness, my cheeks stupidly flus.h.i.+ng with warmth. "Ariella Geller." I put my hand in his. His grip was strong, and when he shook my hand the movement only served to highlight the sinewy muscles lining his arm.

He sat back then and his eyes returned to the moon and the stars and worlds beyond.