Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“What’s this?” Katelyn asks as she takes the flyer from me.
“One of those radio kids handed it to me, and then someone said she’s heard his song, and it’s amazing,” Mason says as he shakes his head. “This is some guy using Liam’s likeness, right? Our Liam doesn’t sing.”
Except he does.
I lean forward and cover my face with my hands. Doing everything I can to keep the tears at bay, but it’s useless. I sit up and push my hair from my face. “I think it’s him.”
“Why would you think that?” Mason asks, confusion written all over his face. He didn’t know Liam either. None of us truly did.
“Don’t snap at her, Mason,” Katelyn says, even though I didn’t take his question that way.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Josie, sweetie. Do you know something?” Katelyn uses her mom tone. It’s something she’s developed over the past handful of months.
“I don’t know,” I say as I stand and pace. I look at the flyer and while I know it’s my Liam, I don’t understand any of it. When I start to cry, they both come toward me. I hold my hands up. “I’m okay.”
Taking a deep breath, I tell them what I know. “Liam had a guitar in his room, and on the rare occasion I was there, he’d play it for a minute or two. The day he left for Texas, we were sitting in his truck, listening to one of the mix tapes he made, and a song came on. It was something I hadn’t heard before, and I really liked it.” Like really liked it.
“I asked who it was by, and he said it was his, that he wrote it and was the one singing. I sat there trying to process the words, Liam, and everything going on around us.” I shake my head. “I never told him that I liked the song or that I thought his voice was beautiful. I told him he was going to move mountains in Texas, and he said, ‘there’s more to life than football, JoJo.’”
Again, I look at the flyer and my heart breaks. Not only for myself, but for Liam and our unborn child. How much of this could’ve been avoided if I had listened? Truly listened to him?
“I guess that was his way of telling me he wasn’t happy.” A sob escapes and I cover my mouth. Katelyn rushes to me and wraps me in her embrace.
“I should’ve listened to him,” I cry into her shoulder. “I should’ve been prouder and told him how he could do anything he put his mind to. If I had, we’d be together right now.” I firmly believe this. I rest my hand on my growing belly and feel my child kick. “He’d know about his child.”
“He never told me,” Mason says quietly.
“He didn’t tell any of us,” Katelyn says. “I would’ve listened.”
I shake my head. “He tried, and I brushed him off.”
“You can’t blame yourself, sweetie.” Katelyn pulls me into another hug. “Liam will be back,” she says this so confidently. “He’ll come back, and you’ll be a family.”
I step away, needing some space, and set the flyer down on the desk. I don’t need the reminder of something I lost, staring at me anymore.
chapter 8
. . .
Tomorrow, I’m moving into a two-bedroom apartment with Katelyn and Mason. It’s technically on the edge of campus, but still on school property, and while Mason believes he’s the one who secured it, Mrs. DeFasio pulled a lot of strings behind the scenes. I’ll never tell Mason though because he’s proud of what he’s done, and I’m very appreciative of him.
With the help of our families, we’ve been able to secure enough furniture for our new place. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or not, but I’m thankful the apartment doesn’t come furnished. I’ve seen some of the furnished townhouses and there’s no way I’d sit on a couch, lie in a bed, or let my child come home to a place like that. The cleaning staff hired by the school doesn’t have enough tools to clean those messes.
My parents are letting me take my bed from my bedroom, which is a twin, but perfect for the room I’ll share with my child. The rest of our new stuff has come from second-hand stores, yard sales, and donations. It doesn’t matter because it’ll be ours and it’ll be perfect.
I stand in the doorway and look at my bed. My mom has washed and folded my blankets and sheets, and they’re ready to go to our apartment. It’s not the pile of bedding that keeps me there, but the memory of the last time Liam and I were together. The night we created the life growing inside of me. The baby of ours that will be born soon.