Page 85 of Recklessly You
“I’m in love with her,” I say, admittedly ignoring the three idiots grinning at me. “But I let her go because I’m in love with her. I’m afraid something will happen to her or if something happens to me.”
“I call bullshit,” Mark drawls.
“I second that,” Santiago says.
“I third that,” Dominic says with a stern look.
Seriously, Dom is dad material. He’s giving methe look.
“You deserve happiness. Don’t be like me, Liam. I have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life over how I treated Mila when she moved back. I flaunted another woman in her face, proposed to her, even, a woman my mother arranged for me to marry. Although I never thought I’d see Mila again, I shouldn’t have agreed when I knew my heart belonged to the only woman I’ve ever loved. I hate myself for it—for those words leaving my mouth, for someone else to hear them. I regret not searching for Mila hard enough, and I regret listening to Rachel badmouth the woman I love. I should have tried harder. I lost five years of my son’s life. I’ll bend on my knees every day for my wife because she deserves it. She gave me a chance when I know I didn’t deserve it. Don’t let time pass, Liam. By the time you wake the fuck up and emerge from the shallow water, she’ll be gone.”
I exhale loudly and take a swig of my beer. I’ve had more alcohol over the past three weeks than I can remember. I’ve probably got more beer than blood in my veins at this point. I’ve been drowning myself with.
“It wasn’t completely your fault,” Santiago says to his brother.
“I love her so damn much I have to let her go. Don’t you guys understand how dangerous my job is?” I run my hands through my hair. “When I think about shooting that fucker and don’t regret it, I feel sick to my stomach. Sophie deserves more than some sick fuck who killed a man. But most of all, I fear that something will happen to her if she’s with me. So many reasons why we can’t be together.”
“You were protecting your mom and yourself, Liam. You did nothing wrong,” Santiago says.
I nod. I know that. I’ve always felt guilty for being there the night my father died and not being able to do more. I’ll never feel guilty for killing the man who hurt my mother. And that makes me feel like a monster.
Falling in love with Sophie came at a price. Letting go of the only woman I’ll ever love to keep her safe is the only decision I can make.
* * *
Once I signthe offer letter and send it back to LAPD for the detective position in the gang and narcotics division, I check on my dad’s truck. I’m getting it painted. It’s coming out so well. Juan, the painter, outdid himself. It just needs a final coat. Next, I drag out the lawnmower, fill it with gas, and set to work. Sweat trickles down my forehead as I mow the sparse patch of grass, trimming the edges until they are straight and even. Then I take up the hedge clippers and trim back the bushes, trying to distract myself from thoughts of Sophie. Finally, I grab a hand shovel from the garage and get on my knees to dig in the dirt, planting flowers in a swirl around the edge of the lawn and in front of the house. I’ve chosen California poppies—the ones that remind me of her. Fuck, I can’t even function properly.
I can’t drink a cup of coffee without thinking of her, remembering the sound of her New Yorker accent as she would fix my cup in the morning, she says coffee in her accent, caw-fee. She would add just the right amount of cream and sugar, sit on my lap in the morning, and say, “Heer-ah ya caw-fee.” That’s the way it sounded in her beautiful accent. Always made my dick hard.
I stab the shovel into the moist dirt, making a hole just the right size for the plant, but it’s too narrow, so I stab, stab, stab, and shovel it out. Dirt flies all over the place. I must look like an angry gardener. Now I understand why people find gardening a good stress reliever. You stab your frustration into the dirt.
I pull out my phone from my pocket and text my mom, telling her I’m on my way. It’s time I tell her everything that happened the night my father died. She deserves to know. She’s been patient with me for so long.
CHAPTER 30
LIAM
“Hola, Mamá.”
She glances over her shoulder at the sound of my voice, but her smile falters when she takes in my appearance.
“Liam, is everything okay? You’ve lost weight.” She runs to me, cupping my cheeks like she used to when I was a kid.
I shake my head. “Sit, Mamá.” I gesture to the chair.
My mom constantly told me when I was a kid that when I was ready to talk, she’d be there for me. She stopped pushing around my teens. Now the time has come.
“I’m ready, Mamá.”
She sits and folds her hands together. Her eyes are wild with panic and relief. I lay my hand over her shaking ones. Swallowing the thick, burning sensation running down my chest, I peer at her sad eyes.
“Dime,”tell me,she says in our native tongue.
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning. I tell her the last song he listened to, the one that reminded him of her. Of everything terrible that happened after that. And I tell her what his last words were—words of love for her, for his family.
A tear runs down her cheek, and I take her hands in my own, feeling the trembling coursing through them.
I find the courage to tell her the rest. Running. Being chased. Finding her unconscious on the floor. The blood and the gun in my hand. How my finger pulled the trigger. How the sound of the gunshot echoed through the air like a clap of thunder, how the gun jumped in my hand, and how I can still hear it, feel it, even now, eighteen years later.
