Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 43: Petrichor

When we pulled up to the house a few minutes later, Liam's car was sitting outside on the curb. He was leaning against it, legs crossed at the ankles, staring down at a tinfoil-covered dish in his arms. I couldn't read his facial expression from this far away, but if it was anything like mine, he was nervous.

The sound of the garage door opening drew his attention, and his head snapped up to watch us all climb out and head toward him instead of inside. My stomach did a flip.

Liam hadn't properly talked to anyone in my family aside from me since he had stood up to my dad for me weeks ago. He was at the hospital to support me, sure, but my parents had studiously avoided eye contact with him the entire time--when they weren't busy arguing with me and Ben, that was. 

That same roiling stomach from the hospital was churning back to life.

Ben was the first one to reach him. He held out his hand for a handshake, but Liam just sheepishly held up the casserole dish with both hands and smiled in that way people do when they feel bad about their hands being full. My brother settled for a pat on the arm, instead. "Hey, man! You're Dan Brown's kid, right? From the diner?" 

Liam nodded with another small smile. "The one and only. I mean, as far as I know, at least."

He shoved his dish into Ben's hands, his eyes widening with sudden panic. I realized the reason a second later: my parents had finally meandered their way over, and they were hovering just behind everyone else, watching the scene with folded arms and unreadable expressions. 

My dad stared at Liam for so long that he started to squirm. His gaze was stern, thoughtful. Then, without a word, he slowly nodded. 

Liam returned the gesture. His movements were slightly jerkier than my dad's. His nerves were almost palpable.

My heart warmed. It wasn't an apology, but with my dad, that was as close as it usually got. It was a start.

I reached out my hand, and Liam took it tight in his like an anchor. "Me and my dad made cheesy chicken casserole for your family. We figured that with everything going on, it would probably be nice not to make dinner for a night."

Dad took the pan from Ben's hands and lifted one corner of the tinfoil, inspecting the dish with wary eyes. He seemed to like what he saw, because he nodded again and replaced the covering with a gruff, "Thanks."

"Anytime." Liam stiffly nodded back. 

The awkwardness in the air was so thick I could have choked on it. I shifted on my feet, just to give myself something to focus on that wasn't the way Ben was studying the boy next to me or the studious avoidance of eye contact that was going on between said boy and my dad.

We're hopeless.

"Why don't you go put that inside and get it ready for eating? I want to talk to Liam real quick."

I stiffened.

My dad wanted to talk to Liam? Alone?

Crap. This couldn't be good.

I reluctantly released Liam's hand and pulled away, noting before I trailed after my mom that he looked like he wanted to sink into the floor out of fear and never return. A smile twitched at my lips despite my worry for him. I understood that feeling.

Ben and my mother both busied themselves with pulling dishes and utensils out of the cupboards and reheating the casserole. I tried to follow them--well, I tried to want to follow them. The pull of the front window was too strong, and I ended up standing directly in front of it, staring outside to where I could see my dad and my... whatever-we-were-now, still out on the curb talking.