Page 29 of Broken Desires
Attempting to slide off his lap, I’m stopped by his firm grasp on my hips.
“You don’t want to go,” he states plainly, cutting through the pretense.
I can’t bring myself to lie to him, so I admit the truth with a shake of my head.
“So tell them to fuck off and come with me instead,” he suggests boldly, as if it’s the simplest solution in the world.
I can’t help but laugh, though I sense it’s tinged with a sadness I can’t quite mask. “I wish it were that simple, I really do, but I can’t. It’s… complicated,” I admit, the word feeling like an understatement.
“Why?” His one-word question is loaded, inviting me to open up more than I’d planned.
Glancing at the clock, I hesitate. “Let’s not get into it now. We’ve got limited time, and I don’t want to ruin what we have left.”
He’s undeterred, shaking his head gently. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? In friends with benefits, being friends is supposed to be the key part. We should be able to talk about these things.”
A deep sigh escapes me as I rest my hands on his shoulders, feeling the weight of our situation. How is it possible not to grow more attached to him with each passing moment?
I pause, staring into Liam’s eyes, wrestling with whether I should unveil the chaos of my family life. He’s always seen me as some kind of badass, effortlessly cool and collected. The thought of him peeking behind the curtain, seeing the mess that I really am, is terrifying. What if he realizes I’m not as strong as he thinks? What if he sees the real me—the girl who’s felt unloved, the one who sometimes thinks she might actually be unlovable—and decides it’s too much?
The fear of disappointing him or, worse, of being rejected after that revelation weighs heavily on me. Yet, looking into his eyes, seeing the genuine concern and the earnest desire to understand, part of me wants to share everything. But it’s hard opening up about the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, especially when you’ve spent so long hiding them away.
I start, then hesitate, releasing a heavy sigh as I search for the right words. Liam waits, his patience tangible, his thumb drawing comforting circles on my hip. “My grandpa… he set aside some money for me, a college fund after I was born,” I begin, trying to keep my tone light. “He did the same for my sister, but she’s a lot older. I guess I was the unplanned bonus,” I attempt to joke, but the laughter doesn’t quite reach my eyes—a truth too often echoed in my mother’s reminders that I’m nothing more than a failed pill.
“Anyway,” I rush on, noticing the shadow of concern on Liam’s face, “when I lost my hearing, things got… complicated.” Complicated feels like an understatement. “My grandpa started to doubt if I could handle money, though he didn’t stop the fund.” In my head, I add, he was the only one who thought I wouldn’t end up a total mess. “So, he put my parents in charge of it. And yeah, I’m here on a scholarship, but I still depend on that monthly allowance from them.”
“They use that against you?” Liam’s lips move clearly, his annoyance visible even without me hearing the tone of his voice. I’ve learned to read his expressions well, a skill that’s come in handy more than once.
I offer a half-hearted shrug, trying to cloak the sharp bite of reality with a facade of indifference. “Pretty much.”
“I see.”
Do you, though? I ponder silently, watching his lips for clues to his thoughts. It’s a silent dialogue I’ve become accustomed to, always wondering how much of my world he can truly understand. How could he fully grasp it? He’s Liam Ashford, from a world so different from my own. No matter how much I try to overlook our differences, I can’t help but remind myself that what I rely on monthly might just be what he spends in a day.
“That’s not fair to you,” he says, his words deliberate, ensuring I can follow along. “Your worth isn’t tied to their conditions or that money.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “You’d think so, right? But somehow, it always comes back to that. It’s like I’m constantly proving I’m more than their accident.”
“You are,” he asserts, reaching for my hand. “You’re so much more, Nessa. Don’t let their doubts define you.”
I squeeze his hand, a small smile breaking through. “So anyway, they paid for the plane. I’ll just go for a few days, let them have their fun, and then it’ll be over with,” I explain, trying to sound more resigned than upset.
He doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he just pulls me in close, wrapping his arms around me in a way that feels like he’s trying to shield me from everything else. Then he kisses me, soft and slow, in a way that makes everything else fade away.
When we break the kiss, I slump on his lap, burying my face in the crook of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice through my body. It’s moments like these, the quiet ones filled with unsaid words, where I feel our connection deeply—beyond words, in the comfort of his presence that speaks volumes to me. It’s quiet, relaxing, and for a moment, all the troubled thoughts in my head just stop.
It’s weird, but sitting here with him, not doing anything more than getting lost in his warmth, feels more intimate than every time we have sex. And when it’s time to leave, I realize we didn’t even give each other release. But somehow, this felt closer, more real.
Liam gives me a last lingering kiss at the door, and it feels like he’s as reluctant as I am to break this special moment.
Walking away from him, something hits me hard—I’m falling for him. A little bit, maybe more. It’s a scary thought; this is the best way to get hurt in the type of relationship we have.
The whole way back, I can’t shake off the feeling. That tenderness, that moment of quiet connection, is stuck with me, making me wonder about all the lines we’ve drawn and how easy they might be to cross now.
Chapter 11
Nessa
Why do I keep fooling myself, thinking I’m stronger than I actually am? Despite all the acceptance and love I’ve found in Silverbrook, I thought I could handle the Caldwell’s toxicity. I was wrong. The moment my plane touched down in California, the harsh reality set in. After insisting I come, my parents couldn’t even bother to pick me up, sending an Uber driver instead. It was a sign of what awaited me.