24. Future Doubts

CHAPTER 24

Future Doubts

CALEB

" J ake's really trying, Liam," I said, my voice calm and even despite the tension that hung in the air like smoke. "People change, and he regrets what happened."

Liam frowned, his brow furrowing in that way it always did when he was upset or confused. "I just can't believe you're defending him after everything."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I knew this was a sore subject, knew that the wounds Jake had inflicted ran deep and raw.

But I also knew that holding onto the past, clinging to old grudges and resentments it didn't do anyone any good. It only poisoned the present, only kept us stuck in a cycle of anger and hurt that we could never break free from.

"I'm not defending what he did," I said softly, reaching out to lay my hand over Liam's. "What he did to us, to you…it was inexcusable. Unforgivable, in a lot of ways."

Liam's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a pain that made my heart ache. "Then why are you taking his side? Why are you acting like it's all just water under the bridge?"

I shook my head, my thumb rubbing gentle circles over his knuckles. "I'm not taking his side, Liam. I'm just trying to see things from a different perspective."

Liam's lips twisted, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping him. "And what, I'm just supposed to forgive and forget? Pretend like none of it ever happened?"

I squeezed his hand, my heart clenching at the pain in his voice. "No, of course not. Forgiveness it's not something you can force. It has to come on its own, in its own time." I looked into his eyes, trying to pour all that I had into that one, simple gaze. "But holding onto the anger, the resentment it's not healthy, Liam. It's like poison, eating away at you from the inside out."

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get the words out, the doorbell rang. We both froze, our heads snapping towards the sound.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Liam shook his head, his expression mirroring my own. "No. I don't think so, anyway."

I stood up, my chair scraping against the tile floor. "I'll get it. You stay here, finish your breakfast."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but I was already moving towards the door. My mind was racing, trying to figure out who could be dropping by unannounced on a Saturday morning.

Maybe it was one of the construction crew, coming to finish up some last-minute details on the renovation. Or maybe it was a neighbor, stopping by to welcome Liam to the block.

But when I opened the door, when I saw the man standing on the other side my heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes going wide with shock and something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.

He was short, but well-built. With dark hair and sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.

And he was carrying a suitcase. A big one, the kind you took on long trips or extended stays .

"Is Liam around?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth and faintly accented.

Before I could answer, before I could even process what was happening Liam was there. Pushing past me, his face breaking into a huge, beaming smile as he launched himself at the man on the porch.

"Jimmy!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around him in a tight, enthusiastic hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming until next week!"

I felt something curl in my gut, something hot and bitter and achingly familiar. Because the way Liam was looking at him, the way his whole face lit up like the sun breaking through the clouds…

It was the same way he used to look at me. The same joy, the same love and affection and bone-deep connection.

And for a moment, just a split second, I hated him. Hated this man who had been there for Liam when I couldn't be, who had seen him through all the ups and downs of his life in the city.

But I pushed the feeling down, forced it back into the dark, hidden corners of my mind where it belonged.

Because this wasn't about me. This was about Liam, about his happiness and his healing. And if Jimmy was a part of that, if he brought some light and laughter back into Liam's life then I would suck it up and deal. Would put on a smile and play nice, even if it killed me inside.

So I stepped aside, gesturing for them to come in. "Come on in," I said, my voice only a little bit strained. "Make yourself at home."

Liam beamed at me, his arm still slung around Jimmy's shoulders. "Caleb, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, Caleb."

I held out my hand, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Nice to meet you, Jimmy."

Jimmy took my hand, his grip firm and confident. "Likewise."

I cleared my throat, dropping Jimmy's hand and taking a step back. "Well, I should probably get going. Got a lot of work to do at the ranch today."

Liam frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. "Should I come with you? I don't want to leave you with all the chores."

I shook my head, my heart clenching at the thought of spending the day with him. Of working side by side, of falling back into the easy rhythm we had once had.

But I knew I couldn't. Knew that I needed some time to process everything, to sort through the tangled mess of my thoughts and emotions.

And I knew that he needed this time with Jimmy. Needed to catch up, to reconnect with his old life and the people who had been such an important part of it.

"No, I've got it covered," I said, forcing a smile that felt like a lie. "You stay here, enjoy your day. Take it easy, rest up."

I could see the hesitation in his eyes, the doubt and the worry. But he nodded, his hand squeezing my arm in a silent gesture of thanks. And then I was walking away. Out the door, down the steps, across the lawn to where my truck was parked.

I climbed in behind the wheel, my hands shaking as I gripped the steering wheel. And for a long moment, I just sat there. Staring out the windshield, trying to breathe past the ache in my chest.

Liam needed me, I could see that even if he didn't want to admit it. Needed me to be strong, to be steady. To be the rock that he could lean on, the shelter that he could turn to when the world got too dark and too heavy.

And I would be that for him. Would be anything and everything that he needed, even if it killed me. Because he was worth it. Worth the heartache, worth the sacrifice. Worth every single moment of pain and uncertainty and gut-wrenching, soul-destroying love.

He was my forever. My always, my everything.

And I would fight for him, would bleed for him. Would walk through fire and crawl over broken glass, would move mountains and part oceans. That I would never leave him again. Never let him go, never let him doubt for a single second that he was loved beyond measure, beyond reason.

With those words echoing in my head, I turned the key and started the engine. The old truck roared to life, the familiar rumble settling into my bones like a second heartbeat.

I pulled out of Liam's driveway, my mind still whirling with thoughts of him. Of us, of what we had once been and what we could be again.

If only I could find a way to make it work. To bridge the gap between our worlds, to bring him back into my life in a way that felt real and lasting and true.

But as I drove down the quiet, tree-lined streets of Oakwood, I couldn't shake the feeling that it might already be too late. That Liam had moved on, had found someone else to love and cherish and build a life with.

Someone who wasn't me. Someone who could give him everything I couldn't, who could be there for him in all the ways that I had failed.

The thought made my chest ache, made my throat tighten with a grief that I couldn't quite name.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face as I turned onto the main road. The sun was high in the sky now, the day already warming up to a balmy, mid-summer heat.

I reached out and flipped on the radio, needing something to fill the silence. To drown out the doubts and the fears and the endless, aching longing that threatened to consume me.

And that's when I heard it. That voice, that soft, soulful croon that seemed to reach right into my chest and squeeze my heart.

Corey King. And as I listened to him sing, as I let the smooth, honeyed tones wash over me like a balm, I felt something settle in my chest. A sense of peace, of rightness that I hadn't felt in longer than I could remember.

Because even though I didn't know Corey King, even though I had never met him or seen him perform there was something about his music that felt familiar. Something that reminded me of Liam.

I pulled into the parking lot of the local pawn shop, my hands shaking slightly as I turned off the engine. I had never been inside this place before, had always looked down on the people who frequented it as somehow lesser than myself. But now, I understood. Understood the desperation that could drive a person to give up their most prized possessions, to trade in pieces of their soul for a few measly dollars.

I grabbed the guitar case from the back of the truck and made my way inside, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackhammer.

The guy behind the counter looked up as I approached, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He was a weaselly-looking dude, with greasy hair and a face that seemed permanently set in a sneer.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom and disdain.

I cleared my throat, trying to summon up some of that easy charm that had always come so naturally to me. "Yeah, I was wondering if you might be interested in buying this guitar. It's a vintage Gibson, in pretty good condition."

The guy raised an eyebrow, his expression turning slightly less hostile. "Let me take a look."

I handed over the case, watching as he opened it up and ran his hands over the smooth, polished wood. He plucked at the strings, his head cocked to the side as he listened to the rich, full-bodied sound.

"Hmm," he said, his voice thoughtful. "It's a nice piece. I could probably give you a thousand for it."

I felt my stomach drop, my heart sinking like a stone. A thousand dollars. It was barely a drop in the bucket compared to what we owed the bank, barely enough to keep us afloat for more than a month or two.

And as I stood there, staring down at the guitar that had been my lifeline for so many years I knew that I couldn't do it. Couldn't let it go, couldn't give up that piece of myself for a few measly dollars.

Because this guitar it was more than just an instrument. It was a symbol of everything that I had ever wanted, everything that I had ever dreamed of.

It was the music that flowed through my veins, the passion that burned in my heart. It was the connection that I had always felt to something greater than myself, something that transcended the mundane realities of everyday life.

And I couldn't let that go. Couldn't let it slip away, couldn't let it become just another casualty of a world that seemed determined to chew me up and spit me out.

So I took a deep breath, my hands shaking slightly as I reached out and took the guitar case back from the pawn shop guy.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "I can't sell it. It means too much to me."

The guy shrugged, his expression turning back to one of bored indifference. "Suit yourself, man. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

I nodded and then I was walking out of the shop, the guitar case clutched tightly in my hand like a lifeline.

Like a reminder of who I was, of what I stood for. Of the dreams and the passions and the unshakable belief in myself that had always been my guiding light, even in the darkest of times.

So I climbed back into my truck, my mind whirling with possibilities. With half-formed plans and desperate schemes, with wild, impossible ideas that I knew were probably doomed to fail. But I had to try. Had to do something, had to find a way to make it work. Because the alternative the thought of losing everything, of watching my family's legacy disappear like smoke in the wind it was unthinkable.