I took the seat across from my mom and ran my fingers through my hair.
She stared at me, watching my movements with a knowing smile.
“What?” I asked, trying—and probably failing—to keep the sneer from my voice.
“Your lips are red,” she commented, raising a glass of wine almost like she was toasting me. “Don’t even try to lie your way out of that one, Liam.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning my head back.
My dad chuckled, clearly enjoying my pain.
I chose to ignore what she said and instead cut a piece of the steak my dad had grilled.
“This is good, Dad,” I said as I chewed. Maybe if I doled out some compliments they’d go easy on me with whatever it was they were up to. “You look nice, Mom.”
My mom laughed, taking a sip of wine. “Oh, Liam, you think you’re so clever.”
That was the thing about Moms—they always knew when you were full of shit.
I set my fork and knife aside and crossed my fingers together. “I assume you both wanted to talk about something with me, so speak.”
My dad narrowed his eyes on me, his brows furrowing into one straight line. “We can talk and enjoy our meal. This isn’t a business proposition, so don’t act so formal.” He nodded at my folded hands.
I stared straight at him as I lifted my fork and took a bite of potato.
He shook his head, fighting a smile.
“We just want you to be happy, Liam, that’s all we’ve ever wanted for you,” my mom spoke, drawing my attention to her. “We always knew you’d end up moving out here, but not the way you did. You just left, Liam, and you’ve never come back. Not for any holiday, not to see your cousins, nothing. What about your friends? Spencer? Kennedy?”
I saw fucking red.
I stood up from the table so fast the chair behind me hit the wall and fell to the floor.
I pointed a rough finger at my mom, my words hissing between my teeth. “Don’t ever speak their fucking names to me. They’re dead to me.”
My mom stared at me in shock, and my dad looked like he was about to bust a vein in his forehead. He stood up too, glowering at me.
“You don’t talk to your mother like that. Apologize.”
I closed my eyes, taking a calming breath while my hands fisted at my sides. “Sorry, Mom,” I muttered, before storming from the room.
I passed a wide-eyed Ari in the hall as I headed into the kitchen.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and started to leave, but ended up back-tracking and grabbing two more.
I heard my mom and dad speaking in the dining room, and Ari had followed me into the kitchen.
“Liam—” She tried to reach out and grasp my arm, but I swiveled away from her, heading for the back door.
“Not now, Ari,” I barked at her. “Not now,” I said the last in a soft, pleading tone.
I couldn’t deal. I needed to drown my fucking sorrows and forget everything.
I didn’t want to remember.
I didn’t want to feel.
Because if I felt, then I had to hurt.