004

LIAM

I shot up in bed, heart pounding like a war drum. Sweat clung to my skin, breath shallow and fast. For a second, I didn’t know where the hell I was.

Then I saw her.

Jessica.

Lying beside me, tangled in sheets that barely covered her naked body.

My stomach twisted. What the actual hell did I do?

Memories slammed into me, her moans and the way she clung to me and begged me not to stop. That smile she gave afterward, like I’d handed her the whole world.

I could still feel her fingernails dragging down my back. My skin burned with the memory.

God.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to scrub the regret off. Panic crawled up my spine, fast and relentless. I moved without thinking… pants, shirt, shoes, wallet.

Every sound felt too loud in the stillness of my room. My heartbeat. The rustle of clothes. The click of my belt.

I didn’t let myself look at her again.

Not until I reached the door.

She was still asleep. Peaceful. Unbothered. Trusting in a way that made my chest ache.

Beautiful.

I hesitated, the guilt pressing down harder.

Then I whispered it, just to myself.

“Coward.”

And I walked out.

The guilt didn’t stay in her room. It clung to me like smoke…on my skin, in my clothes, heavy in my lungs.

I felt it in my chest, my shoulders, and the beat of my pulse. It followed me into the car. Sat beside me the whole drive to St. Luke’s.

Even now, walking the hospital hallways, I could still taste her. Still feel her. My head was a mess, my heart bruised, and my body? Still wanted her.

That made it worse.

I stopped in front of Room 219, took a breath, and pushed the door open.

Laughter met me.

Soft. Familiar. Warm in a way I didn’t deserve today.

Mom was sitting up in bed, frail but radiant, with an oxygen tube resting under her nose. And right beside her, cross-legged in the visitor’s chair, was Mrs. Miller—Jessica’s mom.

My second mother.

The woman who used to pack me snacks in high school. Who scolded me for skipping church. Who hugged me like her own.

If only she knew what I did to her daughter last night.

“There he is,” Mom said with a teasing smile. “My long-lost son finally decides I’m worth a visit.”

Mrs. Miller chuckled. “He always comes around when there’s free food.”

I tried to smile. “You wound me, Mrs. M. I came for you, not your food.”

She held up a lunchbox. “I ought to throw this at your head.”

Mom grinned. “You’d think I was dead already, the way he takes his sweet time.”

I walked over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true. I could’ve climbed into a casket and you’d still be late to the funeral.”

I laughed, but it felt hollow. “Traffic.”

“You live seven minutes away, Liam.”

I pulled up a chair between them and tried to steady my breath. It was always like this…banter, laughter, reminders of life in a place surrounded by death.

“You okay?” Mom asked, studying me.

“Yeah,” I lied too fast.

Mrs. Miller’s eyes narrowed. “You look tired. Been up all night?”

I froze for a beat. “Didn’t sleep well.”

And now I was lying to both the women who raised me.

“You hungry?” Mom offered. “My friend brought a lot.”

“No, thanks.”

“You always want food,” she said, suspicious.

My chest clenched. “Not today.”

She exchanged a glance with Mrs. Miller. “He’s acting weird.”

“He always acts weird,” Mrs. Langston said, shaking her head.

I laughed. This time, it sounded almost real.

They kept teasing, and I let them. Let the rhythm of their voices drown out the one in my head screaming… You used her. You took what she offered with her eyes but never with her mouth. And then you left.

And she’ll wake up alone.

Because of you.

“Liam?” Mom nudged me. “Where’d you go?”

I blinked. “Sorry. Zoned out.”

“You sure everything’s okay?”

I nodded. Another lie.

The laughter was fading. You know that kind of warm, living room laughter that makes you forget for a second that life is chaotic? That was what we had… until it wasn’t.

I caught the look my mom gave Jessica’s mom.

It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was something. Jessica’s mom picked up on it immediately. She stood, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, hugged Mom like she already knew something I didn’t, and excused herself.

Then it was just the two of us.

Mom reached out and took both of my hands in hers. They were soft, a little shaky. I wasn’t ready for what came next.

“You’ve made me the proudest mother on earth,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “Even in another life, I’d still want children like you and Jessica.”

I swallowed hard. I hated when she got sentimental. It meant she wasn’t feeling well again, and I didn’t want to go there.

I leaned in and hugged her tight. She smelled like lavender and some fancy soap I never learned the name of.

It was soft. Warm. The kind of hug you think you’ll get forever.

Then she said it.

“You’re marrying Jessica, my sweet boy.”

I pulled back so slowly, I almost didn’t realize I was doing it. My brain short-circuited.

“What… what did you just say?”

She smiled, but it was that emotional, watery-eyed mom smile. The one that used to work on me when I was eight and didn’t want to go to Sunday school. Now it just scared the shit out of me.

“Please, Liam,” she said gently. “I just want to witness your wedding before I go.”

I stared at her. I didn’t even blink. I couldn’t. My mom…my mom…just dropped a nuclear bomb in the middle of a sweet, quiet day and was acting like it was normal.

“This is a joke,” I said. My voice wasn’t even mine anymore. It sounded distant, like someone else was using my mouth.

She shook her head. “Jessica already said yes.”

My chest did something weird. It squeezed, like my heart was folding in on itself.

“She what?”

“She said yes,” she repeated, like we were talking about cookies or N*****x shows—not marriage. My marriage.

I stood up, fast, like I could outrun the words. “You told her I’d marry her? Mom…what the hell are you doing?”

Her eyes filled with tears. Damn it.

“I’m dying, Liam,” she whispered, like I hadn’t heard that sentence a hundred times already. “And you know this.”

I let out a shaky breath and dragged a hand down my face. “Yeah, I know. I know. But you can’t just—Mom, marriage? Marriage? That’s not a birthday party or a dinner reservation!”

“She’s a good girl.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I just want one beautiful thing to see before I go. One memory to hold onto. What’s the point of all this money if I can’t spend it watching my son walk down the aisle?”

I backed up another step, because if I didn’t put space between us, I might say something I’d regret. Or worse…agree to something I’d regret.

“You didn’t even ask me.”

“You wouldn’t have said yes.”

“You’re right!” I laughed, but it was bitter and hollow. “Because I’m not in love with Jessica. I’ve never been in love with Jessica.”

She looked at me, quiet. I hated that look—like she already knew I was lying. Like she saw everything I never said out loud. Like mothers do.

“You care about her.”

“Sure. The way I care about the barista that gets my order right. That doesn’t mean I should marry her.”

She smiled faintly. “She’s loved you for years.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice cracking. “But I’m asking for this.”

That broke me. I stood there, torn between guilt and anger and something dangerously close to grief.

“She said yes?” I asked again, quietly this time.

Mom nodded.

Fuck. Jessica said yes. That meant she wanted this. That meant she was waiting—probably planning the damn flowers and colors already.

I sank back into the couch and stared at the floor like it held answers.

“Mom…”

“I won’t ask for anything else,” she said. “Not another thing. Just this.”

God. I was drowning in a guilt trip.

I didn’t even realize I was blinking back tears until she reached out and squeezed my hand.

“You’re my heart, Liam. You always have been.”

I swallowed hard, throat thick.

And then she added, “Let me leave this world knowing you’re settled. Even if just a little. Please.”

She was crying. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I couldn’t even breathe right.

So I stood up again, fists clenched, heart spiraling, and muttered, “Fuck, Ma.”