Page 79 of Shattered Melodies

But then Liam stirred beside me, a soft groan escaping his lips. And I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I got out of the truck, moving around to the passenger side and gently easing the door open. Liam didn’t wake, just mumbled something incoherent and nestled deeper into the seat.

A fond smile tugged at my lips despite the gravity of the situation. Same old Liam. Could sleep through a damn hurricane if he put his mind to it.

I reached in and scooped him up, my heart clenching at how light he felt in my arms. Like he was made of nothing but air and dreams, like he might float away if I didn’t hold on tight enough.

I carried him up the porch steps, fumbling with the door handle for a moment before realizing it was unlocked.

“Gonna have to talk to you about that, city boy,” I muttered, shaking my head as I nudged the door open with my foot. “Can’t be leaving your house open for any old riffraff to wander in.”

But even as I said it, I knew it was a conversation for another time. For now, I just needed to get Liam inside and settled, needed to make sure he was safe and sound.

I carried him through the darkened house, trying to navigate by memory and the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the windows. It had been a while since I’d been here, but some things you never forgot.

Like the way the floorboards creaked in that one spot by the stairs. Or the way the air always smelled faintly of lemon and old books, no matter the season.

Or the way Liam’s room had always been a disaster zone, clothes and books and sheet music scattered everywhere like the aftermath of a creative hurricane.

I couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even as a pang of nostalgia and longing twisted in my gut. God, we had been so young then. So full of dreams and passion and the reckless belief that we could take on the world and win.

If only we had known. If only we had been prepared for the storms that lay ahead, for the battles we would have to fight just to survive.

But we hadn’t been. And in the end, it had torn us apart. Had shattered our hearts and our hopes and left us both reeling in the aftermath.

I pushed open the door to Liam’s room, my arms starting to tremble with the effort of holding him. But I pulled up short, blinking in surprise at the sight that greeted me.

The room was completely different, stripped down to the studs and bare floorboards. Tools and tarps and buckets of paint were scattered everywhere, the air heavy with the scent of sawdust and fresh drywall.

It was a shock, seeing the space that had once been so familiar transformed into something new and strange. But in a way, it made sense. Made a kind of poetic symmetry that I couldn’t help but appreciate.

Because Liam, he was transforming too. Was tearing down the walls and the masks and the defenses he had built up over the years, was starting to rebuild himself from the ground up. And as much as it pained me to admit it, I knew that I couldn’t be a part of that process. Knew that he needed to do this on his own, needed to find his own way back to the light.

So I decided to carry him into the warmly lit living room, gently setting him down on the plush, oversized couch. He stirred slightly, a small whimper escaping his lips as I eased him onto the cushions.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up, alright? Just rest now.”

Liam didn’t respond, already drifting back into the depths of sleep. I watched him for a moment, my heart aching with a tender sort of love that I couldn’t quite name.

Then, with a sigh, I pushed myself to my feet and headed for the kitchen. I rummaged through the cabinets until I found a clean washcloth and a bowl, filling it with warm water from the tap.

When I returned to the living room, Peanut was there, curled up on Liam’s chest like a tiny, purring guardian. She blinked up at me with big, green eyes, her gaze somehow both accusing and imploring.

“I know, I know,” I said softly, setting the bowl down on the coffee table and sinking to my knees beside the couch. “I’m trying my best here, okay? Cut me some slack.”

Peanut just mewed softly, nuzzling deeper into Liam’s shirt. I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

“Guess I deserve that,” I muttered, dipping the washcloth into the warm water. “I haven’t exactly been there for him lately, have I?”

I wrung out the excess water and gently began to clean the blood and grime from Liam’s face, my touch feather-light and infinitely tender.

He stirred under my ministrations, his brow furrowing slightly. But he didn’t wake, just sighed softly and leaned into my touch like a flower turning towards the sun.

It made my heart clench, made my breath catch in my throat. Because even now, even after everything his body still knew mine. Still responded to my touch like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we were two halves of the same whole.

I finished cleaning Liam’s face and set the washcloth aside, my fingers lingering on the sharp line of his jaw. He looked so peaceful like this, so young and unburdened. Like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, if only for a little while.

I knew it wouldn’t last. Knew that come morning, he would wake to the same pain and confusion and heartache that had driven him to the bottle in the first place.

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