He looked at his mother, so pleased with herself when they still didn’t know how Dad’s surgery had gone. He could see the worry lines on her face, and he knew that she did worry, and he almost wondered if she was fixating on Aiden because it was something she could control and Dad’s health was something she couldn’t.

Oh shit.

That wasn’t what he was doing. He hadn’t been fixated. He’d been happy with Kayla, and yes he had jumped at the chance to help . . .

Oh shit, shit, shit. He was a fucking martyr.

“What did your grandmother say to you?” Mom asked, trying to sound casual and failing.

Liam shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing new. Just the same question people have been asking me for years.” And it was true. He’d never put the pattern together before, but neither Kayla nor Grandma asking him what he was doing was some brand-new revelation.

It was harder to brush off from people he loved so much. Friends? The occasional girlfriend? It had been easy to decide they just didn’t get it—couldn’t. But Grandma was a part of this family, and Kayla had so quickly become something like his heart.

“What question?” Mom asked gently. Because that was the hard part, the part that made it so hard to end. Mom meant well. She cared. It wasn’t as though she didn’t love him or magically loved Aiden more. It was just what Grandma had said. Aiden was the project, and Mom knew what to do with projects.

She knew less what to do with him, except recruit him in those projects, and he was powerless to that.

“Why I do it. Why I’m always trying to fix things.”

“Because you’re a good man, sweetie. Why would that even be a question?”

“Because I’m not happy, Mom. I’m in love with Kayla. I’m not happy being apart—pretend or real, though it’s pretty damn real considering she didn’t love our little idea.”

“Oh, Liam. I’m sorry she didn’t understand, but you’re doing the right thing. We’ll get Aiden the help he needs now. We can make him happy and secure. I’m sure of it.”

Liam looked at his hands. Hands rough from work and giving it his all, and still . . . They’d always been here, trying to fix Aiden. No matter what it took. No matter what Liam had to give. No matter if Liam was happy or not. “Is his happiness more important than mine?” he managed to scratch out, almost afraid of the answer.

“Of course not! Honey . . . Aiden’s just . . . He isn’t as strong as you. He needs more help. If that woman didn’t understand that, if she doesn’t support you loving your brother, she isn’t the girlfriend you want. I’ve never cared for the Gallaghers.”

Liam could only stare at his mother as she most purposefully did not meet his shocked gaze. She stared at some bland-ass painting on the wall across from them.

Never cared for the Gallaghers. That woman. He had the sinking fear this was just as much about him as Aiden. As much about Mom keeping a hold on him as it was about helping Aiden get better.

His heart shied away from the thought, but it was all too plain to let his heart lead. There was too much heartbreak to let those soft parts of him lead.

“As soon as we know Dad’s all right, I’m going to go see her. I’m not going to lie or pretend. Not for Aiden. Not for you.”

“Not for your family?” Mom demanded, tears filling her eyes, her lip trembling as she studied him as though he were some stranger.

Maybe he was. Maybe he needed to be. “I have never been first in this family, and I don’t even care about that. I work hard and I give as much as I can, but I’m not going to give what isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to Kayla.”

“And what about Aiden?”

“Maybe Aiden needs to learn how to help himself.”

“I don’t know what your grandmother said to you, but she is wrong and you will regret turning your back on us, Liam Patrick. Shame on her. Shame on you.” Mom said it with such vehemence, he wanted to relent. He wanted to soothe.

But it wouldn’t ever end. That was the thing. He was thirty fucking years old and this only ever escalated. This only ever ended up with him giving up more and more.

He didn’t want to give up Kayla. He never had, but seeing the situation more clearly made it even more disgusting what he’d asked of her. What he’d expected her to understand.

When she had never asked too much of him. When she had taken his burdens as her own. When she had comforted him. She had given, and she had taken, because apparently she knew how to be in a reciprocal relationship.

He didn’t. Never had, but damn, it was so much better than this. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t simple, but it gave so much more than it took.

“Liam—” Mom’s voice was shrill and Liam fought for calm and control. For his heart, and for his courage. He was not a coward, but he’d been doing an excellent impression of one.

“I won’t fight with you here,” he said quietly and evenly as other people in the waiting room began to stare at them. “I won’t fight with you now. But I hope when we get Dad home and back on his feet . . . I hope you’ll think a little bit about what you’ve asked me to do for Aiden, and what you’ve ever asked Aiden to do for himself.”

Mom stared at him as if he’d slapped her, but she said nothing else, and when they had the news that Dad had come through with flying colors, Liam knew exactly what came next.