29. Discordant Notes

CHAPTER 29

Discordant Notes

LIAM

C aleb's truck rumbled to a stop in front of my house, and I could feel his eyes on me, searching for answers I wasn't ready to give. I knew he wanted to come in, to make sure I was okay. Hell, part of me wanted that too. But the panic was still thrumming through my veins, making it hard to think straight.

"Thanks for the ride," I mumbled, my hand already on the door handle.

Caleb's face fell, just for a second, before he caught himself. "Yeah, sure. No problem. You sure you're alright?"

I forced a smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. "I'm fine. Just need some rest."

He nodded, but I could see the worry in his eyes. "Okay. If you need anything…"

"I know," I cut him off, softer this time. "Thanks, Caleb. Really."

I climbed out of the truck before I could change my mind, before I could give in to the urge to spill everything. As I fumbled with my keys at the front door, I heard Caleb's truck pull away. The sound made my chest ache in a way I wasn't ready to examine too closely .

Once inside, I made a beeline for the kitchen. My hands were shaking as I yanked open the cabinet where I kept the liquor. Whiskey. That's what I needed. Something strong enough to drown out the panic, the fear, the voice in my head screaming that everything was about to fall apart.

I poured a generous glass and knocked it back in one go, wincing at the burn. "Fuck," I muttered, already pouring another. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

How had they found me? I'd been so careful, so goddamn careful. Oakwood was supposed to be safe, supposed to be my escape from the chaos of my life as Corey King.

But now they were here. The vultures, the paparazzi, whatever you wanted to call them. And it was only a matter of time before they put two and two together, before my carefully constructed life came crashing down around me.

I downed the second glass, the alcohol hitting my system like a warm wave. It wasn't healthy, I knew that. My therapist would have a field day if she could see me now. But in that moment, I didn't care. I just needed the noise in my head to stop.

"Get it together, Liam," I growled at myself, gripping the edge of the counter. "You've dealt with worse. You can handle this."

But could I? The doubt crept in, insidious and familiar.

"Shit," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. I needed to talk to someone, needed to get out of my own head before I did something stupid.

The house was quiet, too quiet. Jimmy was still out, probably schmoozing with some industry bigwigs or whatever it was he did when he wasn't babysitting my mess of a life. I needed him here, needed his level-headed advice and his uncanny ability to talk me down from the ledge.

I poured another glass of whiskey, ignoring the voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like my therapist. "You're using alcohol as a crutch, Liam. It's not a healthy coping mechanism."

Just as I was about to take another swig, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and felt my stomach drop. Dad. Because of course he'd call now, when I was three glasses deep and teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

For a moment, I considered letting it go to voicemail. But I knew from experience that would only make things worse. With a deep sigh, I answered.

"What do you want, Dad?" I didn't bother with pleasantries. We were long past that.

"Is that any way to greet your father, Liam?" His voice was cool, controlled. It made my skin crawl.

"Cut the crap," I snapped. "You didn't call for a friendly chat. What's going on?"

There was a pause, and I could almost see him in my mind's eye, sitting in his plush office chair, a glass of scotch in hand. "Very well. I'll get straight to the point. I know you're Corey King."

The world tilted on its axis. I gripped the kitchen counter, trying to steady myself. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Liam. It doesn't suit you." His voice was sharp, cutting. "I hired a private investigator. He was quite thorough."

Rage boiled up inside me, hot and fierce. "You had no right," I hissed. "No fucking right to invade my privacy like that."

"I had every right," he shot back. "You're my son, and you're throwing away everything we've built for you. For what? Some childish fantasy of being a rock star?"

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Childish fantasy? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how successful Corey King is? How much money he… I've made?"

"Money that should be going into the family business," my father said, his voice cold. "Not wasted on frivolous pursuits."

"Frivolous?" I was shouting now, beyond caring about keeping my cool. "Music is my life, Dad. It's who I am and always has been. Why can't you understand that?"

"Because it's not who you're meant to be!" He was yelling too now, his composure finally cracking. "You're a Denison. You have responsibilities, a legacy to uphold."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. "I never asked for that legacy," I said, my voice low and hard. "I never wanted it."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When my father spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. "I'm giving you an ultimatum, Liam. Come back to New York. Take your place in the company. Or I'll reveal your little secret to the world. Your precious anonymity will be gone, just like that."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." And with that, he hung up.

I stared at the phone in my hand, disbelief and fury warring inside me. How dare he? How fucking dare he still try to control my life like this?

Without thinking, I hurled the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack, then clattered to the floor. I stood there, breathing hard, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Fuck!" I yelled, slamming my palm against the counter. The pain was sharp, grounding. It cut through the haze of alcohol and anger, bringing me back to myself.

I needed to think. Needed to figure out a plan. But my mind was a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling and colliding like debris in a tornado.

I couldn't go back to New York. Couldn't give up my music, my freedom, everything I'd worked so hard for. But if my father went public with my identity, it would change everything. The press would have a field day.

Caleb. The thought of him made my chest ache. We were just starting to reconnect, to explore the possibility of something. I don't know what will happen or how he will react If he found out about Corey King from some tabloid headline.

"Shit," I muttered, running my hands through my hair. "Shit, shit, shit."

I was so lost in my spiral of panic that I barely registered the sound of the front door opening. Jimmy's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts.

"Liam? You home?"

"In the kitchen," I called back, already reaching for the whiskey bottle again. My hand was shaking as I poured another glass. Fuck it. If there was ever a time for drinking, it was now.

Jimmy appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene before him. Me, disheveled and wild-eyed, surrounded by empty glasses and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Real classy, Liam.

"Jesus, what happened?" Jimmy asked, his voice laced with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I let out a bitter laugh, raising my glass in a mock toast. "Oh, you know. Just another day in the life of Liam fucking Denison. How was your day, Jimmy? Bet it was a real picnic compared to mine."

Jimmy approached cautiously, like he was afraid I might bolt if he moved too quickly. "My day was fine. Boring, even. Want to tell me what's going on with you?"

I took a long swig of whiskey, relishing the burn as it went down. "Well, let's see. It started off great. Caleb took me on a date. The Grove, if you can believe it. We had apple pie and everything. It was nice. Really nice."

"That sounds good," Jimmy said, his tone encouraging. "So what went wrong?"

I slammed the glass down on the counter, harder than I'd intended. "What went wrong? Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that the fucking vultures showed up? Yeah, that's right. Paparazzi. Here. In Oakwood fucking Grove."

Jimmy's eyes widened in shock. "What? How? They must have followed me here somehow. Liam, I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful-"

"More careful?" I cut him off, my voice rising. "How could you have been so careless in the first place, Jimmy? This was supposed to be my safe haven, my escape. And now it's all going to shit!"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Jimmy looked stricken, his face pale and his eyes wide with hurt. Guilt washed over me, momentarily drowning out the anger and fear.

"Fuck, Jimmy, I'm sorry," I said, deflating. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's not your fault. I just… I have all this anger, and I don't know what to do with it."

Before Jimmy could respond, a fresh wave of rage hit me. Without thinking, I grabbed my glass and hurled it at the wall. It shattered spectacularly, shards of glass and drops of whiskey exploding outward.

"Liam!" Jimmy exclaimed, jumping back. "What the hell?"

But I was beyond reason at this point. A manic laugh bubbled up from my chest, harsh and uncontrolled. "Oh, but wait! There's more! You want to know the cherry on top of this shit sundae?"

Jimmy just stared at me, his expression a mix of concern and wariness. "What?"

"My dear old dad called," I spat, pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. "Turns out he hired a private investigator to dig into my life. He knows, Jimmy. He knows I'm Corey King."

"Oh, fuck," Jimmy breathed, the color draining from his face. "Liam, I'm so sorry. What did he say?"

I laughed again, but it sounded more like a sob. "He gave me an ultimatum. Come back to New York, take over the family business or he'll reveal my identity to the world. Can you believe that? My own father, threatening to destroy everything I've built."

Jimmy was quiet for a long moment, processing. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. "What are you going to do?"

I slumped against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know, Jimmy. I honestly don't fucking know. Part of me just wants to run away again, disappear somewhere where no one can find me. But…"

"But you don't want to leave Caleb," Jimmy finished for me, understanding dawning in his eyes.

I nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Yeah. And I'm tired, you know? Tired of running, tired of hiding. I don't want to let him dictate my life anymore. But if he goes public with this…"

"It'll change everything," Jimmy said softly.

"Exactly." I ran a hand over my face, feeling the stubble that had grown in over the course of the day. "God, Jimmy. What am I going to do?"

Jimmy was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then he straightened up, a determined look on his face. "Okay, first things first. We need to get ahead of this. If your dad's threatening to go public, we need to control the narrative."

I blinked at him, thrown by the sudden shift into business mode. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Jimmy said, already pulling out his phone, "we need to plan a coming out party for Corey King. On our terms, not your dad's."

The idea sent a jolt of panic through me. "What? No. No way. I can't… I'm not ready for that."

Jimmy's expression softened. "I know it's scary, Liam. But think about it. If we do this on our terms, we can spin it however we want. We can make it a positive thing, not some sordid expose."

I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. "I don't know, Jimmy. That's a big step."

"It is," he agreed. "But it might be our best option. And hey, look at it this way. If we do this, your dad loses all his leverage. He can't threaten you with exposure if you've already exposed yourself, right?"

I had to admit, there was a certain logic to that. But the thought of revealing my identity to the world made my stomach churn with anxiety .

"What about Caleb?" I asked, my voice small. "I need to tell him first. Before we do anything."

Jimmy nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Of course. That's step one. You need to be honest with him, Liam. He deserves to know the truth."

I knew Jimmy was right. The thought of telling Caleb everything terrified me, but the alternative - him finding out from someone else - was unthinkable.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

Jimmy smiled, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. "That's my boy. It'll be okay, Liam. You'll see."

I managed a weak smile in return, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Jimmy. For everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably drink yourself into an early grave," he teased, gesturing at the whiskey bottle. "Speaking of which, I think we're done with this for tonight. How about some tea instead?"

I nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "Yeah, tea sounds good."

As Jimmy busied himself with the kettle, I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. My mind was still racing, but the edge of panic had dulled somewhat. Maybe Jimmy was right. Maybe taking control of the situation was the best way forward.

"Hey," Jimmy said, setting a steaming mug of tea in front of me. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you, Liam. It takes guts to face your demons head-on like this."

I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my skin. "I'm not sure I have much choice at this point. But thanks, I just hope I'm not about to blow up my entire life."

Jimmy sat down across from me, his own mug of tea in hand. "Look, whatever happens, you've got people in your corner. Me, your fans and from what you've told me about Caleb, I think he'll understand. Give him a chance, okay?"

I nodded, taking a sip of tea. It was hot and sweet, exactly how I liked it. "Yeah, okay. I'll try."

"So, tell me about this date with Caleb. Before everything went sideways."