11. Returning Melodies

CHAPTER 11

Returning Melodies

LIAM

" H ey, man. You almost ready to go?" Jimmy said as he opened the door to his room.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, just about. Listen, Jimmy…"

But he cut me off with a wave of his hand, his expression serious. "Are you sure about this, Liam? I mean, running off to God knows where, leaving everything and everyone behind, it's a big deal, man. A really big deal."

I looked at him, feeling a surge of affection for this man who had been by my side through thick and thin. "I know it is, Jimmy. But I have to do this. I have to… I have to find myself again, have to figure out who I am and what I want."

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I get that, Liam. I do. But what if… what if you come back different? What if you lose yourself out there, instead of finding yourself?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in my gut like a stone. He was right, of course. There was no guarantee that this little soul-searching mission of mine would end well, no promise that I wouldn't come back even more broken and lost than I was now.

But I had to try. I had to take that chance, had to see if there was still a way forward for me, a path that led to something more than just endless pain and regret.

"I know it's a risk," I said softly, my voice rough with emotion. "But it's one I have to take, Jimmy. I can't keep living like this, can't keep pretending to be someone I'm not. I need to find my way back to myself, back to the man I used to be."

Jimmy sighed, but there was understanding in his eyes, a glimmer of support and compassion. "Okay, Liam. Okay. If this is what you need to do, then I'm behind you. One hundred percent."

I felt a lump rise in my throat, a sudden, overwhelming rush of gratitude. "Thank you."

He smiled, but it was a sad, wistful thing. "Just promise me one thing, okay? Promise me you'll be careful out there. Promise me you'll come back to us, when you're ready."

I nodded, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "I promise, Jimmy. I'll be careful, and I'll come back. I just don't know when that will be, exactly."

He waved a hand, dismissing my concern. "Don't worry about that. You take all the time you need, Liam. I'll keep your appointments on hold, keep the vultures at bay. You just focus on you, on getting your head right and your heart whole again."

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, a real one this time. "Thanks, man. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He grinned, punching me lightly on the shoulder. "Crash and burn, probably. But hey, what are friends for?"

We both laughed, the tension in the room easing a little. But then Jimmy's expression turned serious again, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Listen, Liam. I know you want to keep this whole thing on the down-low, and I get that. But are you sure you don't want anyone to know where you're going? Not even your folks?"

I felt a flare of anger at the mention of my parents, a hot, bitter taste in the back of my throat. "No, Jimmy. Especially not my parents. They can't know about this, can't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. They'd just try to stop me, try to drag me back into their little puppet show."

Jimmy nodded, his expression grave. "I hear you, man. If you want me to, I can come with you soon. Not the whole time, maybe, but just to get you settled in, make sure you're okay. Would that be alright?"

I felt a rush of warmth, a swell of affection for this man who had always had my back, even when I didn't deserve it. "Yeah, Jimmy. That would be great, actually. I could use a friendly face, someone to help me get my bearings."

He grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. "Then it's settled. Operation ‘Get Liam's Groove Back' is officially a go."

I snorted, shaking my head. "You did not just say that."

"Oh, but I did. And you know what? I'm gonna keep saying it, until it's true. Until you're back to your old self, back to the Liam who could light up a room just by walking into it."

My phone rang, the sound loud and jarring in the quiet of the room.

I glanced at the screen, feeling my stomach drop when I saw my mother's name flashing up at me. Jimmy raised an eyebrow, his expression knowing.

"You should answer that," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm. "You can't avoid them forever, Liam. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face the music."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the world settling on my shoulders. He was right, of course. I couldn't run from my problems forever, couldn't hide from the people who loved me, even if they didn't always understand me.

"Hi, Mom."

There was a beat of silence, a moment of tense, loaded stillness. And then, like a dam bursting, my mother's voice exploded through the phone, loud and furious and dripping with accusation.

"Liam, what the hell is going on? What's this nonsense I hear about you leaving, about you abandoning your responsibilities and running off to God knows where?"

I felt my hackles rise, felt the familiar flare of anger and frustration burning in my gut. "It's not nonsense, Mom. It's my life, my choice. And I didn't consult you because I knew you'd just try to stop me, try to talk me out of it."

She scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. "Of course we would try to stop you, Liam. You're throwing away everything we've worked for, everything we've sacrificed to give you a good life. And for what? Some childish fantasy, some ridiculous notion of ‘finding yourself'?"

I gritted my teeth, my grip tightening on the phone until my knuckles turned white. "It's not a fantasy, Mom. It's my dream, my passion. And I'm not a child anymore, I'm a grown man. I can make my own decisions, my own choices."

"Choices?" She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "What choices, Liam? The choice to abandon your family, your future? The choice to throw away everything we've built, everything we've dreamed of for you?"

I felt something snap inside me, felt the last, fraying thread of my patience give way. "Dreams, Mom? They're your dreams, not mine. They always have been. And I'm done living my life for you, done being your puppet on a string."

I heard her gasp, heard the shock and the hurt in her voice. "Liam, how can you say that? We love you, we just want what's best…"

But I cut her off, my voice rising to a shout. "No, Mom. You want what's best for you, for the family name and the company and all the bullshit that comes with it. But what about what's best for me? What about my happiness, my sanity?"

There was a long, heavy silence. And then, finally, my mother spoke again, her voice quiet and trembling. "I just… I don't understand, Liam. I don't understand how you can do this to us, how you can be so selfish…"

And that was it. That was the last straw, the final nail in the coffin of my already strained relationship with my parents.

"Selfish?" I spat, my voice dripping with venom. "You want to talk about selfish, Mom? How about the way you and Dad have controlled every aspect of my life since I was born, how you've never once asked me what I wanted or needed? How about the way you've used guilt and manipulation to keep me in line, to make me into your perfect little robot?"

I was breathing hard now, my heart pounding and my vision blurring with tears. But I couldn't stop, couldn't hold back the flood of emotion that had been building for so long.

"I'm done, Mom. I'm done being your puppet, done living a life that makes me miserable. I'm going to find my own way, going to chase my own dreams. And if that makes me selfish in your eyes then so be it."

And with that, I hung up the phone, my hands shaking and my chest heaving. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the blank screen and trying to catch my breath.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, felt the warmth and the strength of Jimmy's presence beside me. "You okay, man?"

I let out a shuddering sigh, running a hand through my hair. "No. But I will be. I have to be."

He nodded, his expression serious. "I know it's not easy, standing up to your folks like that. But you did the right thing, Liam. You gotta do what's right for you, even if it's hard."

We finished packing in silence, the air heavy with unspoken emotion. As we carried the last suitcase out to the car, Jimmy turned to me, his expression softening.

"Take care of yourself out there, okay? And call me if you need anything, anything at all. I'm just a phone call away."

I felt a rush of gratitude, a swell of affection for this man who had always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. I pulled him into a tight hug, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"I will, Jimmy. I promise. And thank you, for everything. For being my friend, my rock. I couldn't have done this without you. "

He hugged me back, his voice gruff with emotion. "Anytime, man. Anytime."

We pulled apart, and I climbed into the car, my heart pounding and my mind racing. As I started the engine and pulled out onto the road, I saw Jimmy in the rearview mirror, his hand raised in a final goodbye.

As I drove down the highway, the miles flying by and the sun sinking lower in the sky, I felt a strange mix of emotions churning in my gut. There was fear, of course, and uncertainty. I was heading into uncharted territory, both literally and figuratively, and I had no idea what lay ahead.

But there was also excitement, anticipation. A sense of freedom and possibility that I hadn't felt in years, maybe ever.

Because for the first time in my life, I was doing something for me. Not for my parents, not for the company, not for anyone else's expectations or desires.

Just for me. For Liam.

And god, it felt good. Felt right, in a way that nothing else ever had.

As the concrete jungle of New York gave way to rolling hills and lush, green forests, I felt a sense of déjà vu wash over me. I had driven this route countless times as a kid, had spent summers exploring these woods and swimming in these lakes.

But it all felt different now, felt strange and surreal and almost dreamlike. Like I was seeing it all through new eyes, through the lens of the man I had become rather than the boy I had been.

I wondered what that boy would think of me now, if he could see the choices I had made and the life I had built. Would he be proud? Disappointed? Would he even recognize the person I had become?

I shook my head, trying to banish the thoughts. It didn't matter what that boy would think, didn't matter what anyone else thought.

All that mattered was what I thought, what I felt. And right now, in this moment .

I felt alive. Felt free, in a way that I hadn't in longer than I could remember.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle in the inky sky, I saw the familiar arch looming ahead, the one that marked the entrance to Oakwood.

My heart skipped a beat, my palms going damp on the steering wheel. This was it. The moment of truth, the point of no return.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. And then I drove on, passing under the arch and into the town that held so many memories, so many ghosts.

It was late, the streets empty and still. The only sound was the hum of my engine and the crunch of gravel beneath my tires.

I navigated the winding roads by muscle memory, my body remembering the turns and the landmarks even as my mind tried to forget. And then, suddenly, I was there. Parked in front of the house that had once been my home, the house that held so much pain and so much promise.

It looked the same, and yet somehow different. The paint was peeling, the shutters hanging crooked. The lawn was overgrown, the flowerbeds choked with weeds.

I could see that the house needed work, needed more than just a fresh coat of paint and some new landscaping. The roof sagged in places, the porch steps were rotting, and the windows were cloudy with grime.

But beneath the surface, beneath the neglect and the decay it was still the same house from when we left it.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at the darkened windows and the sagging porch. Trying to summon the courage to get out of the car, to take that first step into the past.

I grabbed my bags from the trunk, the weight of them grounding me, anchoring me to the present. And then I walked up the cracked and crumbling path, my heart pounding and my mind racing.

I unlocked the door with shaking hands, the key sticking in the rusty lock. And then I stepped inside, the musty smell of neglect and abandonment hitting me like a physical blow. I flicked on the lights, the dim bulbs casting eerie shadows on the walls. Everything was just as I remembered it, just as I had left it all those years ago.

The furniture, the knick-knacks, the faded photographs on the mantel. It was like stepping into a time capsule, like being transported back to a life that felt like someone else's dream.

But as I looked closer, I could see the signs of age and decay. The wallpaper was peeling, the floorboards were warped and creaky. The furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust, the fabric faded and worn.

I knew it would take more than just a little elbow grease to make this place livable again. It would need new plumbing, new wiring, maybe even a new foundation.

But I wasn't daunted by the task ahead. If anything, I felt a flicker of excitement, a spark of possibility. Because this house, this project it was a chance to start over. To build something new from the ashes of the old, to create a space that was truly mine.

I wandered through the rooms, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The kitchen, where my mother had once baked cookies and sung along to the radio. The living room, where my father had dozed in his recliner, the TV droning in the background.

The hallway, lined with pictures of a family that no longer existed. Of a boy with bright eyes and a brighter smile, a boy who had no idea of the heartache and the darkness that lay ahead.

All of these items were still here after all these years. I didn't know how but it was a nice surprise.

I paused in front of one photograph in particular, my throat tightening with emotion. It was from my high school graduation, my parents beaming with pride on either side of me. I looked so young, so innocent. So full of hope and promise and naive, foolish dreams.

After checking everything was still in order, I climbed the stairs to my old bedroom .

It was exactly as I had left it, the posters on the walls and the trophies on the shelves. The twin bed with its faded blue comforter, the desk with its scattered papers and forgotten dreams.

I dropped my bags on the floor, the thud of them loud in the stillness. And then I collapsed onto the bed, the springs creaking beneath my weight.