Page 78 of My Best Friend Is Broken
“Promise?”
“I promise. You’re not alone in this anymore, Liam. You’re never going to be alone again.”
His body finally goes completely lax against mine, all the fight and fear draining out of him until he’s just a warm weight in my arms. It’s not a magical cure. Tomorrow he might wake up still struggling, might have another bad day or another moment of panic. But for now, in this moment, he’s safe and calm and loved.
And sometimes that’s all healing can be. Not a steady march toward being fixed, but a series of moments where the bad days become bearable because you don’t have to face them alone.
We stay on the sofa long after the documentary ends, wrapped around each other while the winter evening darkens outside and the city lights begin to twinkle through the windows. It’s tender and bittersweet, this love we’re building. Complicated by trauma and fear and the weight of everything we’ve both been through.
But it’s real. It’s ours. And it’s strong enough to hold us both, even on the days when holding ourselves feels impossible.
“Love you,” Liam mumbles, half-asleep now despite his earlier restlessness.
“Love you too,” I whisper back. “Always.”
And in the quiet of our living room, holding the person I love while he finally finds peace after a day of fighting his own mind, I think about how far we’ve come. How much further we still have to go. How the journey is messy and non-linear and sometimes feels impossible.
But we’re making it. Step by step, day by day. Bad moments and good moments, and everything in between.
We’re making it together.
And that’s more than enough. It is the only thing that matters. The only thing I need or want.
Chapter twenty-six
Liam
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I’m standing outside Dr. Torrino’s office at eight in the morning, wearing the new clothes Nicky insisted on buying me. Smart trousers, a button-down shirt, all professional and proper. I look the part but it’s hard trying to convince myself that I’m not about to completely fuck this up.
It’s my first day. My first job since prison. The first time in years that someone is trusting me with actual responsibility. What if I’ve forgotten everything? What if the skills I learned in Brixton don’t translate to this world? What if Dr. Torrino realizes he’s made a terrible mistake and sends me home before lunch?
I take a deep breath and walk through the door.
To my surprise, the office is already bustling. Three people in the waiting room, all wearing that particular carefully neutral expression that suggests they’re here for reasons they can’t discuss in polite company.
I find Dr. Torrino at his desk, reviewing files, and he looks up with a genuine smile when I enter.
“Liam! Perfect timing. Ready for your first day?”
“I think so,” I say, hoping my voice sounds more confident than I feel.
“Good. The first rule of working with our clientele is that discretion is paramount. You see nothing, you hear nothing, you remember nothing outside these walls. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“The second rule is, treat everyone with respect, regardless of what they do for a living or why they’re here. Pain is pain, injury is injury. We don’t judge.”
“Got it.”
“Excellent. Let’s get started.”
The first patient is a middle-aged man with a knife wound on his thigh that he claims came from “an accident in the kitchen.” Dr. Torrino doesn’t question the obvious lie, just nods and gestures for me to assist with the cleaning and suturing.
My hands are still shaking as I put on the disposable gloves, but the moment I start working on irrigating the wound, assessing the damage, preparing the suture kit… everything else falls away. This is familiar territory. This is something I know how to do.
“Good technique,” Dr. Torrino murmurs as I help him close the wound. “Steady hands, proper tension.”
