21. Lost and Found

CHAPTER 21

Lost and Found

LIAM

T he neon sign of The Oak buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow on the cracked sidewalk. I gripped my sixth – or was it seventh? – beer, the bottle slick with condensation. Each sip burned less than the last, but the ache in my chest only grew.

Caleb's words echoed in my head, a broken record of betrayal and lost time. ‘Your parents kept me away, Liam. They lied to you.'

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories, the what-ifs, the years of silence that suddenly made terrible sense. The bar around me faded into a blur of murmured conversations and clinking glasses, all of it meaningless in the face of this new, awful truth.

Caleb. Just the thought of his name made my chest ache, made the anger and the hurt and the confusion rise up like bile in my throat.

He'd said he was there, that he'd fought to see me after the accident. That it was my parents who had kept him away, who had lied to me and made me believe he didn't care. But how could I trust that? How could I believe anything, after all the secrets and the betrayals and the years of silence between us ?

I took another swig of beer, the taste bitter on my tongue. The bartender, a grizzled old man with a face like leather, eyed me warily from behind the counter.

"You sure you want another one, son?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Looks like you've had plenty already."

I scowled, slamming the empty bottle down on the bar. "I'm fine," I snapped, my words slurring slightly. "Just keep ‘em coming."

He shrugged, turning away to grab me another beer. But as I watched him, something clicked in my hazy brain.

The bottles he was pulling from the fridge…they weren't the same as the ones he'd been serving me all night. They were lighter in color, the labels slightly different.

"Hey," I said, my voice sharp with suspicion. "What's the deal with those beers?"

The bartender paused, his hand hovering over the bottle opener. "What do you mean?"

I narrowed my eyes, the anger rising hot and fast in my gut. "I mean, those aren't the same ones you've been giving me. They're…they're watered down, aren't they?"

He sighed, setting the bottle down on the counter. "Look, son. I'm just trying to look out for you, alright? You've had a lot to drink, and I don't want you getting yourself into trouble."

I laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. "Trouble? Oh, I'm already in trouble, old man. Have been for a long damn time."

I pushed away from the bar, swaying slightly on my feet. The room spun around me, the faces of the other patrons blurring together in a haze of judgment and pity.

I could feel their eyes on me, could hear their whispers and their snickers. Poor Liam, they were probably thinking. Poor, pathetic Liam, drowning his sorrows in cheap booze and self-pity.

Well, fuck them. Fuck all of them, with their perfect little lives and their happy endings. They didn't know a damn thing about me, about the hell I'd been through and the demons I was fighting.

I stumbled towards the door, my vision swimming and my head pounding. I needed to get out of there, needed to escape the suffocating weight of their stares and their expectations.

The night air hit me like a slap in the face, cold and sharp against my flushed skin. I blinked, trying to get my bearings in the darkness.

Main Street was empty, the shops and cafes closed up tight for the night. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic on the highway, the occasional bark of a dog in someone's backyard.

I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. I needed to call a cab, needed to get home before I did something stupid.

Like go to Caleb's house and pour my heart out, beg him for answers.

No, I couldn't do that. Couldn't let myself be vulnerable like that, not again. Not after everything that had happened.

I was just about to dial the number for the local cab company when I heard it. A voice, coming from the shadows of the alley beside the bar.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here, boys. A little fairy, out all alone at night."

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. I didn't recognize the voice, but I knew that tone, knew the hatred and the disgust that dripped from every word.

I turned slowly, my fists clenching at my sides. And there they were, three men, emerging from the darkness with sneers on their faces and malice in their eyes.

"I don't want any trouble," I said, my voice cold and flat. "Just let me go, and we can all forget this ever happened."

The one in the middle, a big, beefy guy with a face like a bulldog, laughed, the sound grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

"Oh, we're not looking for trouble, sweetheart," he said, his words slurring slightly. "We're just looking for a little fun, that's all. And you look like you could be a whole lot of fun, if you know what I mean."

The other two laughed, their eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin crawl. I felt the anger rising in me, hot and fast and uncontrollable.

"Fuck you," I spat, my voice shaking with rage. "I'm not interested in your kind of fun, asshole. Now get out of my way before I make you regret it."

The leader's face twisted, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Oh, we got a feisty one, boys," he sneered, taking a step towards me. "I like ‘em feisty. Makes it more fun when we break ‘em in."

And that was the last straw. The final insult, the ultimate betrayal of everything I was and everything I believed in.

I didn't even realize I was moving until my fist was connecting with his jaw, the sickening crunch of bone on bone echoing in the stillness of the night. The man stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock and fury. But I didn't give him a chance to recover, didn't give him a chance to strike back.

I was on him in an instant, my hands grabbing at his collar and slamming him up against the wall. His buddies tried to intervene, but I was too fast, too fueled by the rage and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I fought like a man possessed, my fists flying and my feet lashing out in a flurry of blows. I could feel the pain, could feel the blood dripping from my split knuckles and my busted lip, but I didn't care.

All I cared about was making them hurt, making them pay for the hatred and the bigotry and the small-minded cruelty that had ruled my life for far too long.

But even as I fought, even as I poured every ounce of my anger and my pain into each punch and each kick I knew it was a losing battle. Knew that there were too many of them, that they were too big and too strong and too drunk on their own sense of power and entitlement.

And just as I was about to go down, just as I was about to succumb to the darkness that was creeping in at the edges of my vision a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me back and away from the fray.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" a voice shouted in my ear, the sound distant and muffled through the roaring in my head. "Break it up, you two! That's enough!"

I struggled against the grip, my body thrashing like a wild animal caught in a trap. But the arms held firm, the chest pressed against my back solid and unyielding.

"Let me go!" I yelled, my voice raw and ragged. "I'm not done with them yet, I'm not fucking done!"

The arms tightened, the voice growing more insistent. "Yes, you are. You're done, Liam. It's over."

And something about that voice, about the way it said my name it cut through the haze of anger and adrenaline like a knife, bringing me back to myself with a jolt.

I went still, my breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. And slowly, slowly, I turned my head to look at the man who had pulled me away from the brink.

It was Jake. Jake fucking Thompson, the bully who had made my life a living hell in high school. The one who had exposed my relationship with Caleb, who had torn our world apart with his cruelty and his hatred.

"Let me go, Jake!" I yelled, struggling against his hold. I couldn't believe this was happening. After all these years, after everything he'd done, he had the nerve to lay his hands on me?

But Jake just tightened his grip, his voice calm and infuriatingly rational. "Not happening, Liam. You're gonna get yourself killed."

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his concern, but before I could get the words out, another voice cut through the chaos.

A voice I would know anywhere, in any lifetime.

"Jake, let him go," Caleb said, his tone brooking no argument. "I've got him. "

Jake hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between me and Caleb. But then he nodded, his grip loosening as he stepped back. And then Caleb was there, his arms wrapping around me like a lifeline, like a promise of safety and shelter from the storm raging inside me.

I collapsed into him, all the fight draining out of me in a rush. And as I buried my face in his chest, as I breathed in the familiar scent of him, something inside me broke. All the pain, all the confusion and the heartbreak and the years of longing it came crashing down on me like a tidal wave, sweeping me away in a torrent of grief and anger and desperate, aching need.

I sobbed into his shirt, my fingers clutching at his back like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. And through it all, through the gut-wrenching sobs and the shuddering gasps, Caleb just held me.

"It's okay, Liam," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing in my ear. "I've got you. I'm here, I'm right here."

I don't know how long we stood there, clinging to each other like drowning men in a storm-tossed sea. But eventually, gradually, the sobs subsided, the shaking eased, and I was left feeling hollowed out and utterly spent.

Caleb pulled back slightly, his hands coming up to cup my face. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, wiping away the tears that still clung to my skin.

"Come on," he said gently, his eyes soft with understanding. "Let's get you out of here."

I let him guide me to his truck, my steps unsteady and my mind still reeling from the events of the night. I felt like I was in a daze, like everything was happening in slow motion and I was just along for the ride.

As Caleb helped me into the passenger seat, buckling me in with careful, gentle hands, I mumbled something, the words slurring together in my exhaustion.

"They lied to me," I said, my voice raw and ragged. "My parents… they lied. "

Caleb paused, his hand resting on my knee. "I know, Liam," he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. "I know."

And something about the way he said it, about the pain and the understanding in his eyes made me want to cry all over again. Because he did know. He knew better than anyone the toll that secrets and lies could take, the way they could eat away at your soul until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of the person you used to be.

He knew, because he had lived it. Because he had been there, right by my side, when my world had come crashing down around me all those years ago. And now, here he was again. Still by my side, still picking up the pieces of my shattered heart and helping me put them back together.

I didn't deserve him. Didn't deserve his kindness, his compassion, his unwavering loyalty in the face of all my flaws and failings.