Page 14 of Divine II

He swiped his hand over his face and shook his head. “Nothing really.”

“Bullshit, Liam. You lost your mom. Have you guys had the funeral? I was calling like crazy trying to get here in time, but you would never answer.”

“She didn’t want a funeral. She made all the arrangements when she got her diagnosis. She wanted to be cremated. Come walk with me. Let me show you something,” he stated.

When his fingers linked with mine, I felt whole. Liam might not have immediately put out the welcome wagon, but he wanted me here. I felt my heart rate regulating as he guided me across the huge living area to a side door. He opened the door, and we stepped out into a beautiful garden.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Gorgeous just like her,” he commented.

“I used to love to read the bookThe Secret Garden.This puts me right back into that setting. I see why you love plants.”

“My mom had a green thumb. I used to hate to come out here and help her work. It was a chore. When I was in trouble, she would send me out here to pull weeds for hours. I hated it! Somewhere down in my subconscious, it stuck. When they suggested gardening as a stress reliever in anger management, I decided to try it just to see if they were onto something. Apparently, they were. Now I see why she spent so much time out here, even though we had a gardener and a landscaper.”

“Oh so y’all were rich, rich.” I giggled.

“Don’t act like you’re not used to money.”

“I’m not saying I’m not. I’m also used to rich jerks. You never gave that.”

“I’m not rich. My parents are.” He corrected me.

“Well, there’s that.”

“My mom wants her ashes spread in her garden,” he revealed.

“I think that would be beautiful.”

“Me too. It was her happy place. She was different out here—happier. She smiled more than I ever saw her smile when we were out here.”

“How are you coping? I know you had a strained relationship with your parents to say the least.”

“I’m not sure if I am. It kinda doesn’t feel real. When I was younger, I had this whole idea of how life would be when my mom was out from under my dad’s thumb. I tried to free her from him. No matter what, she continued to navigate back to him. Eventually, I washed my hands with them both. About once or twice a year, my mom would reach out to me, but other than that, it’s like she was already gone. Now that she’s really gone, I don’t know how to feel.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling his hand to my lips and kissing it.

He chuckled under his breath. “Don’t be. We all have our own shit.”

“The same can be said of your parents. There’s a reason that your mom felt the need to stay with your dad.”

“You’re right. I think she was more afraid to find out that life wouldn’t automatically get better just because he was no longer in the picture. He made her dependent on him. She got used to her lifestyle. She felt obligated to make it work. Hell, I’m sure after his injuries, she even felt sorry for him, but at least he couldn’t hurt her anymore.”

“Your dad was abusive?” I asked.

“That’s putting it lightly. I can recall years of hospital visits, injuries, and broken bones before I was fed up enough to try to put a stop to it.”

“Was he hurting you too?”

He scoffed. “More often than not.”

“Wow. I’m sorry you went through that, Liam. Why have you never said anything?”

“It’s the past. No need to dwell on it. I don’t need people feeling sorry for me, especially not someone that I’m supposed to protect.”

“Our past shapes our future.”

“I had an abusive father is not exactly a great conversation starter.”

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