“No, it’s fine, Kota.” I step around her and take three steps toward him. “You know what you are, Liam Hetcherson?” His nostrils flare when I spit his name at him. “You’re so lost you can’t see what’s in front of you. You think a night out on the booze fixes everything? Makes it all go away? You’re only hurting yourself here.” I turn and start to walk back to Kota’s car. There’s no getting through to him tonight. The best thing for all of us, especially me, is to walk away.
“You don't know what you're talking about, Liberty!” he shouts, only because I hit a soft spot.
“Right, I wouldn’t have a clue, ’cause I'm just some platinum * who has no idea what you could be dealing with right now? I couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about.” I spin back, using the words he used this morning.
“How could you? You weren't there. None of you fucking were. So why the fuck do you get to judge me?” His voice starts to rise, and I wonder if this is going to be it for him.
Rock bottom.
“No one is judging you, Hetch.” I keep my voice low and calm as I risk a step back to him. “I wasn’t there, but it doesn’t take a trained professional to know you need help, Liam. You need to talk about it with someone.”
“YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I NEED!” I recoil from his scream, feeling ridiculous for it. Hetch may want to hurt me with his words, but I know he would never physically hurt me.
“Enough, Hetch.” Sterling steps in front of him, his voice carrying a warning with enough menace to scare me. “Liberty’s right. You need to talk to someone. If you don’t, I’m gonna report your ass.” His finger pokes his chest, pushing his opinion literally into him.
“Fuck you, Sterling.”
“No, fuck you. I love you, man. I do. But this shit has to end. You have a family who cares about you. A woman who’s holding on, even though you stand here pushing her away, and friends who would do anything for you. What more do you fucking want?”
“You know what, I don’t want anything from any of you. I’m done. Kota,”—he points to his sister—“I’ll see you later. Sterling,”—he flips his middle finger toward him—“fuck you very much, and Liberty,”—he steps up into my space, reaching for me. He holds my face so gently I can feel my heart skip a beat—“I’m only gonna hurt you.” He kisses me once. “It’s for the best.” He kisses me twice. “Don’t make it harder on me.” Then a third before he steps back and drops his hands.
“You don’t have to hurt me.” My voice is small, weighed down with pain.
“Damn it, I already am!” His shoulders slump forward, his hand rubbing through the mess of his hair like he’s trying to rein in his emotions.
“Hetch.” I reach for him, only for him to brush me off.
“Kota, make sure she gets home.” He turns without another word and starts walking away from us. I want to call out to him. Want to tell him he’s not hurting me, but it would be a lie.
He is hurting me. He’s hurting us.
And I'm not sure if we can come back from it.
“I’ll make sure he finds his way back home. Kota, make sure you get her back too,” Sterling orders before taking off to find him.
“Come on, babe, let’s get you home.” Kota reaches for my hand, but I pull away.
“Maybe I should follow too.” I look over at her, despising the pity I see in her eyes.
“I think you should let him be, give him some time. He’ll come back to you. I know he will.”
I want to believe her, believe that he will find his way back to me, but I'm not so sure.
I'm not sure about anything anymore.
“Sweetheart, open the door.” Hetch finds his way back to me four hours and seventeen minutes later. My eyes open from my broken sleep, adjusting to my dark living room before slowly sitting up.
“Liberty.” He knocks harder while I try to force my racing heart down. I’ve been sitting here since Kota dropped me home, wondering where he was and when he was getting back. Praying he would come to me. But now he’s here, I’m not sure I’m ready to see him. I’m not ready to see this other person who’s a stranger to me. A broken man. A heartless man. A man who doesn’t care who he hurts.
“Please open the door, Liberty. I need you.” The desperation in his voice calls to me and all concern and worries I may have been feeling are left behind as I move to the door.
“Hey.” I open up, keeping my body inside the doorframe and my hand on the door.
“Baby, you opened.” He looks shocked; his bloodshot eyes tell me he either continued drinking wherever he walked off to, or he’s been crying.
My guess, both.
“Don’t make me regret it.” I open the door wider to let him pass.
“Sweetheart, I—” He reaches for me, but I step out of his way.
I’m not sure I’m ready for him to touch me.
“Please don’t.” I close the door and move back over to the sofa. I didn’t let him in so we could fuck. We need to talk. We need to be real.
Following my lead, Hetch walks around and takes a seat next to me.
Not too close.
Not close enough.
“I don’t know where to start.” He looks so defeated, so rejected. A little less self-assured. A little less cocky.