Page 99

The sound hits me like a physical blow. I step forward, pulling her inside before she can collapse. Livia folds into me, sobbing into my shoulder with a desperation I feel deep in my bones.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply automatically, even though I don’t know if it is. She’s been gone for weeks without a single call or text. Nothing after the day she left Tilly with me and disappeared. Still, I whisper against her matted hair, “We’re okay.”

Her knees buckle again when I try to get her moving, so I slide one arm beneath her legs and lift her. Fuck. She weighs next to nothing. I tighten my hold on her and carry her upstairs, each step feeding the sick feeling twisting through my gut. I can feel too much of her through the layers between us and how little there is of the sister I remember.

This fucking addiction. It’s taken pieces from all of us. Livia’s body and years of her life. Countless days and nights Chase and I have spent wondering where our sister is, whether she’s safe, whether this time will be the time we don’t get her back. And no matter how much this disease takes, it always comes back hungry for more.

Once inside, I carry her toward the living room. Peyton appears at the end of the hall, her eyes widening with concern. I give her a brief look that says I’ll explain later, and she nods before heading to the kitchen. I sit Livia at the dining table and Peyton sets a mug of tea in front of her a minute later.

“Who are you?” my sister asks, her voice guarded as tears dry on her cheeks.

“I’m Peyton. I’ve been helping Ollie with Tilly the past few weeks.”

Something shutters behind Livia’s eyes at hearing her daughter’s name. “I see.”

Livia doesn’t look at Peyton again after that, her attention dropping to the mug in front of her. Peyton glances my way. I give her the smallest shake of my head, not a dismissal, only a silent reassurance that I’ve got this. Understanding flickers across her face.

“I’ll give you two some space. Let me know if you need anything,” she says and leaves us alone.

Her absence is immediately noticeable; the room feels different without Peyton in it. But Livia doesn’t acknowledge her exit at all. A thin thread of irritation winds through me before I can stop it. Peyton has been nothing but kind. The fact that Livia can’t even offer basic courtesy sits wrong with me, but I push the reaction down. This isn’t the time to police social niceties. Still, I make a mental note and file it away.

I pull out the chair across from her and sit. “What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice level, even though my emotions feel anything but.

“I’m sober,” she says, voice rough but determined. “I’ve been sober for ten days. I swear. I just needed to get away and focus on myself for a while.”

I nod slowly, studying her face. There’s a clarity in her eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. “That’s really good that you haven’t taken anything, Liv.”

Up close, I can see the clear signs of how her addiction has affected her. There’s sharpness at her edges and a faint tremor in her fingers when she reaches for the mug. Her teeth are in rough shape and I don’t even want to imagine how bad her arms are. It physically hurts to see her like this.

“I messed up,” Livia admits, staring down at the table. “I know I did. I just…I don’t want to run anymore.”

“Then we’ll figure out a way for you to stay in one place. But you don’t have to do any of this alone. I’m here. And Chase has been worried sick about you, too.”

The apartment falls quiet, apart from the ticking clock and the occasional sound of traffic coming through the open window in the kitchen. Livia keeps both hands wrapped around tea Peyton made for her, although I don't think she's taken a single sip. Her thumbs move restlessly against the ceramic. It’s one of the many I made myself.

“I don't even know where to start,” my sister says eventually.

“You don’t have to start at the beginning. Just tell me what happened after you left.”

She twists her fingers until her knuckles pale. “I walked out thinking I'd be gone for a couple of days.” A humorless laugh escapes her, showing three missing teeth. “I even packed like I was coming back, telling myself I just needed space to get my head straight.”

I don’t say anything, wanting to hear how she explains herself this time around. Because every explanation she's given so far has been about her. Not once has it been about the baby she abandoned.

“Then a few days became a week. Every day I told myself, tomorrow. Tomorrow I'd call. Tomorrow I'd come home. Tomorrow I'd explain.”

“And tomorrow never came.”

Livia shakes her head. “After a while…” Her shoulders sag. “After a while, it felt easier to disappear than to admit what I'd done. Every day I stayed away made it harder to face you.”

I rub a hand across my shaven jaw, searching for the right words. “I get that you were scared to come back, Liv. But you have to understand what it was like on this side of it. We had no idea where you were. If you were alive. If you were hurt. Every day you stayed gone, Chase and I were left imagining the worst.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I know.”

“And I need to know why. Maybe not every ugly detail, but enough to understand how we got here. Because I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m helping you through.”

“I left my baby.”