Page 110 of Free to Fall

“He’s not worth getting this upset over,” Kalie rallies behind me.

I meet my cousin’s eyes head on. “In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve had my life threatened, had them threaten the life of a little girl I’d give my own for because my father kept his investigation of a traumatic event I was finally beginning to recover from a secret, and the man I’m in love with brutally dumped me and announced to anyone listening all of the aforementioned. Excuse me if the foundation of my world is rattled just a bit.”

Kalie lets out a rough sigh. “Yeah. Want a gallon of margarita to chase that?”

Grace slaps her leg. “You know better, Kalie! Laura has to moderate her alcohol intake when increasing her anxiety meds.”

Oh, but I wish I could. Maybe I could finally put an end to this agony. I lay my head back while Grace and Kalie talk softly about the person whose home we’re invading once we touch down in San Diego.

Kalie snickers. “For his sake, he’d better hope he’s alone. Last time, it was more embarrassing for him than it was for us trying to prove to his girlfriend of the hour we weren’t her replacement.”

Despite my pain, the part of my heart always reserved for my family glimmers with humor at the memory Kalie resurrected. It gives me the faintest hope there’s a reason worth living.

I might heal.

But I’ll never survive the loss of Liam and Bailey.

After Kalie and Grace fall asleep, I pull out my journal and pour my emotions into it.

It’s the only safe space I have left.

From the Journal of Dr. Laura Lockwood

I’m not certain there’s a speed fast enough to carry me away from my pain. No, pain isn’t quite the way to describe what Liam did to me tonight.

He murdered me right in the middle of my own ER.

He slaughtered me, accusing me of deliberately placing Bailey in danger. But there was no way I could have known going to my home would have done this. And Al? How was I supposed to know he had changed sides—turned traitor to my father and family? How is that my fault?

His voice bellowed at me, how if I was in danger I should have stayed away from him and his daughter.

Pain kept me frozen in place, accepting his words as my punishment for listening to my father when, intuitively, I knew better. I should have said something. Still, I felt myself back down, so great was his fury. I trembled in the face of it, even though I had faced off against a mob faction earlier in the day and succeeded.

Is love supposed to make us this mortal? This weak? What happened to love raising us up to feel as strong as gods, becoming unconquerable in the eyes of the world? No, that’s not the kind of love I found. The security I thought I had ripped away.

It boiled down to one thing—trust. I’d given Liam mine, and he believed I’d handed him nothing but lies while I cared for the most precious piece of his heart. No matter what I tried to say, none of my words penetrated through the cloud of fury surrounding him.

I finally ran—past him, past the chief. Past my father, who had betrayed us both.

Still, as much as I love, is there any way to erase the feeling of desolation I feel when I think about how I tried to tell Liam I loved him and he said, “Don’t finish that. Don’t you even dare say that to me or to Bailey. Not now, not ever again. Get out.”

I knew words could hurt—my mother taught me that a long while ago—but this was a bludgeon, a sudden agony that left me feeling nothing.

Maybe this was less painful than an actual death. Maybe not.

Chapter

Sixty-One

The ER resident on duty coolly reassured me Bailey was fine after she regained consciousness. “Her stress is keeping her under, Mr. Payne. I suggest you follow up with one of our therapists.”

“Yeah, she sees one for the first incident she had in this ER,” I explained acidly.

“Hmm. Fine. I’ll discharge her to your care.” I winced at the emphasis on the word, knowing I’d royally fucked up with the ER staff by maligning their precious chief. Still, while I was completing paperwork, several of Laura’s co-workers came by to say goodbye to Bailey including Dr. Rosenthal, who reminded me of Bailey’s appointment next week, Alice, who dropped a packet of peanut butter cups on my baby girl’s lap, and the chief of staff—Laura’s Dr. Douche. He ignored me, focusing solely on Bailey. Delivering a teddy bear dressed in scrubs to her, he murmured, “That’s not from me, it’s from Laura.”

Bailey immediately hugged to her chest before asking me a question I couldn’t answer. “Daddy? Where did Laura go? She was holding my hand before.”

Almost like they were like rats on a sinking ship, all the medical personnel left me to field my daughter’s inquiry. “I-I don’t know, Buttercup. I’ll text her when we get home.”

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