Page 104 of The Design of Goodbye
“You have a brother.”
“That wants me,” he finished.
“There has to be someone.”
“There isn’t!” His voice wavered. “I only have—”
“Who?” I asked, blinking back tears as I tried to stay composed for him. But watching him go from angry to defeated to falling apart was heartbreaking.
“You.” He struggled to compose himself. “I need you. If you tell someone, I’ll get placed in foster care, and I’ll lose you.”
“Don’t saythat.”
Suddenly, a choice that had been so clear moments ago wasn’t. He was right. If I told my dad, they’d take Liam from me. He’d have to move, probably change schools.
“It’s true,” he whispered. “You don’t think I’ve researched every option to get away from him? But there’s nothing. I turn eighteen in five months. I’ll try to make it through graduation and then I’m gone.”
“But you need to be safe.”
“I’m safe enough,” he said. “But I can’t handle more change right now. And if I lose you, I might...”
“I know.” I stepped forward and hugged him. “I understand.”
Because without him, I’d break, too.
We stayed like that until we stopped trembling, our breaths slowing, and I knew what choice I had to make for both of us.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I said, “if you promise me something.”
“What is it?” he whispered into my hair.
“Whenever your dad’s angry, leave and come to me.”
“Okay,” he said. “I promise.”
Promise. What a powerful word it was.
* * *
Hanging off the side of my bed, I shined my phone’s flashlight at Liam. Thimble, who’d been resting near Liam’s pillow, bolted into my closet at the sudden light. This had been a pattern since Liam had gone to sleep four hours ago. Every time I turned my flashlight on, Thimble ran away, only to find his way back to Liam’s pillow once the room was dark again.
“Liam,” I called. “Wake up.”
He stirred and rolled onto his back. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Remember I need to wake you—”
“Every three to four hours.” He turned to face me but immediately turned away when the light shined in his eyes. “Not every thirty minutes.”
“But I’mworried.”
“I don’t have a concussion,” he said. “So, can you please stop waking me up?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks for trying.”
I turned off my flashlight and stared into the darkness. I was so relieved our argument hadn’t changed us. I’d been worried things between us would never be the same. But I shouldn’t have worried because Liam was different. He was forgiving and understanding anddefinitelynot like my mom or Jules.
