Page 93 of Something Forever

I don’t know why this moment feels so important. I feel that invisible string between us tighten and pulse with energy. Heat coils low in my stomach, my heart thumping with nerves. His deep green eyes sear me with an intensity as he brings his hand up to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing against the curve of my neck and down to my collarbone.

Finally, he speaks, his voice soft and low, a shade deeper than usual.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll stay.”

33

LIAM

“Goddamn.” Darius comes storming into Abe’s bar, letting out a string of curses. He crosses the room, anger written all over him, and ducks behind the bar without a glance in my direction.

“You alright?” I ask cautiously, and Darius snaps his gaze to me.

“Fine,” he barks out, even though he seems anything but.

I don’t say anything else as we set up the station, instead letting my thoughts wander to where they always do these days.

My wife.

Since my date with Whitney, I’ve been trying and failing to keep my distance. Failing because we live exactly three feet away from each other and no matter how I try to stop myself, I find myself knocking at her door in the late hours of the night. I’ve probably spent more time in her bed than my own at this point. Not that I’m complaining. The past few months feel like a dream, one that I don’t ever want to wake up from. But more and more I feel the cool glow of morning creeping up on me, warning me that this dream won’t last — that we’ve been doomed from the start.

I’ve been so caught up in Whitney that I’ve hardly thought about Luke’s foundation. To be honest, ever since the gala, I’ve been avoiding thinking about it. Between Tim’s hesitations and Rebecca’s rejection, I’m feeling pretty disheartened. The truth is that it’s hard to chase someone else’s dream, especially when it feels out of reach. Yet again, I wonder what Luke would think if he could see me now. Would he thank me for following along on his path, or would he be disappointed by my pace?

“It’s my dad,” Darius interrupts my spiraling from beside me. “He’s an asshole.”

I glance towards him. “What happened?”

He shakes his head, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. For a moment, I think he’s not going to respond at all, but then a slew of words start tumbling from him. “I don’t care if he comes at me, but when he starts ragging on Jackson, it sets me off. He’s always poking fun at him for being into comics and studying all the time. Jackson actually listens to my dad, so now he’s rethinking applying for college since my dad said it’s a bad idea.”

“Has he talked to any of the counselors at his school?”

“I’ve been caught up in my own shit… my girlfriend thought she might be pregnant. She’s not, but I haven’t really been there for him the last few months. I’m supposed to be his big brother, but I fucked up,” he says, a slight tremor in his voice that makes the hairs on my arm stand up straight.

Clasping a hand on his shoulder, I study his blank expression, which I recognize for the mask it is. “You haven’t fucked up, man. You’re doing the best you can. You even asked me for help.” That earns a slight chuckle. “I don’t want to overstep, but if I can help you guys out somehow, I want to.”

“Thanks, Liam. I appreciate it.”

I step back and grab two shot glasses and a bottle of Don Julio, setting them on top of the counter. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Abe isn’t around, I line up the glasses and pour two shots.

“Jackson reminds me of someone I used to know,” I tell him. “Someone who I let down. I want to do things differently this time. Offer help instead of ignoring the problem.”

I slide one of the shots over to Darius, who knocks it back with me. He coughs, and I slap his back, chuckling. I grab my jacket and slip out to the back door, spotting Jackson sitting in that same spot on the stoop, a comic book in his hands. It’s a mirror image of our scene a few weeks ago.

“Hey,” I call out.

His head shoots up and he scowls at me. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Just saying hello.”

Dipping his head back into his comic, Jackson ignores me.

“Which one are you reading this time?”

He lifts up the cover towards me with a small smile. “X of Swords.”

“Where do you get your comics from?”

Eyeing me warily, Jackson shifts. “Mostly from the library. I can get free ones there.”

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