Chapter 1: Liam

I always knew my brother had a temper.

Even when we were younger, he was always the one most likely to kick off a sarcastic remark, or beat the council kids that teased us to a pulp in the street. I remember my parents musing aloud that it was just a phase when we were growing up; that their son was just rebelling against the mold - against the expectations that are normally placed upon the eldest sibling.

But I knew different.

I still know different.

My brother always was and remains to this day a master manipulator but he is also a coward to boot; and it is those two traits, combined with his control-freak tendencies and the elitist attitude passed down by our mother Helen, that have resulted in the volcano known now as Paul Connor…

…and it was yet another eruption of this particular entity that had led us all here tonight.

Paul's temper…

Yeah, it was standard procedure, this! Things had once again not gone his way and so Paul reacted as Paul always does - selfishly.

This doesn't mean I love him any less of course, or that I would ever wish him any harm. Far from it. He'll always be my big brother, and my best friend really. But my eyes have been opened to my brother's flaws, and I am no longer aimlessly following in his shadow.

No. I don't idolize my big brother anymore.

I wish I could say that I also wasn't envious of my brother but that would be a lie; the truth is I don't remember a time in our adult life when I wasn't jealous of him. The truth is, in spite of his temper, our Paul had an awful lot going for him; and the good outweighed the bad.

He has this uncanny ability to just act in the face of a crisis instead of reacting. He is able to look upon a scene of utter devastation, draw in two or three long drags of oxygen, and then spring into action; something I could never do, but always wish I could.

Dead protective is our Paul, and loyal to a fault. He would do anything to ensure the stability and safety of those he held dearest to him.

And yet this protective quality, along with his temper, was responsible for why we were gathered here tonight; waiting with abated breath for any news on his condition.

I look around the room of worried and shattered faces and I am subconsciously gearing myself up for the normal pangs of jealousy I tend to get whenever my brother once again takes centre stage. It's not an unwelcome feeling though, feels like second skin really; after all he tends to pull stunts like this quite often. He had everyone tied in knots when he went AWOL back in March after our Ryan was caught joyriding. Everyone was dead worried about him, terrified that he finally flipped his lid and wrapped his car around a streetlamp somewhere in greater Manchester. But when he finally turned up, after groveling in typical charming Paul Connor fashion, it was hugs and kisses all around.

Everyone was so happy to see him, glad that he was safe and sound, while I-

- well I was slowly being eaten on the inside by jealousy.

This time it is worse though.

Much worse…

I allow my head to drop into my hands as I try to bring my thoughts back to the present. I remember back to just twelve hours prior; I can still see the broken glass, the dented frame of the car, and the colours of the sirens as they blared nearby.

I can still see the blood spilling down his unconscious face and I am suddenly back there, five years earlier…standing outside the car crash looking in on my brother-in-law's lifeless face. But Paul had saved our collective skin that night; his calm and collected self rising to the surface and taking control of the situation while I simply panicked under the pressure.

And now, as I take a sip of this horrible watered-down coffee, I am unnerved; those normal envious feelings have not yet hit me; and as I swallow my drink I realize that the reason I am unsettled is because I'm not really as surprised as I should be tonight.

No…

Tonight my brother has lost my respect with his secrets and lies;

Tonight I have come to realize that I am the better man;

Tonight I have no reason to be jealous of Paul;

and it has everything to do with her….

Lifting my eyes from the beige tiles below my feet, I watch as she floats tipsily around the chairs of the waiting room. She is clutching a disposable cup of coffee to her chest like I am, and I can't help the way my eyes scan her body from bottom to top. Even as she sobers from her earlier inebriated state, she still manages to command the room.

My brother's wife…

Her figure is lithe, yet curvy; her average height increased by the stilettos that click along the quiet corridor of the nearly deserted hospital wing. My gaze pauses on her profile as she turns slowly to look down the hallway for what is possibly the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. But it is her eyes that finally cause my brow to furrow sympathetically. Red and puffy from crying, her normally stunning green orbs are hopelessly desolate. Her cheeks are stained with black smudges from her mascara, and her wonderfully plump lips, the ones that make me subconsciously lick my own, are being pursed tightly as she attempts to stop them from quivering; her lower lip held securely in place by her teeth.

"Carla?" I hear myself croak to her and watch as she slowly turns her gaze to acknowledge me, "why don't you come sit down with me sweet'eart eh?" I can see she is contemplating it, but as she shifts her attention back to the hallway I call to her again, "you watching them doors ain't gonna make them come out any quicker darlin'."

She closes her eyes and drops her head, taking in a deep breath while fresh tears traipse down her face, and I feel myself rise instinctively to my feet. Within a few short strides I am at her side and I lift my hand to run it soothingly down her hair, "c'mon love," I whisper softly as I tug her towards me, noting to myself that I have placed three different terms of endearment upon her within the span of sixty seconds and realizing how right it felt to do so; "c'mon let's sit down hey?" She nods, still not uttering a word, and with one final longing look down the hall, she falls into step beside me.

As we settle into the uncomfortable seats, she rests upon my shoulder and I automatically lean my cheek against her head. It is at that moment that I am reminded of the other casualty of the night, and letting out a collective sigh with her, my brother's wife, I finally address the elephant in the room.

"I keep thinking of Leanne," I begin trepidatiously, "her and our Paul… it's doin' me 'ead in."

"Yup," she responds hoarsely, "it's not done much for my self-esteem neither." As the words pass her lips I find my eyes are once again scanning her body; how could she ever think she was anything but gorgeous?

My fingers deftly grasp hers as I ask the question I am dreading to hear the answer to, "Did you really no idea?" I whisper softly, my gaze shifting to her face.

She snorts derisively, and a humourless smile tugs at her lips, "I'm telling you whatever problems we do 'ave," her voice drops suddenly along with her smile, "I thought everything was alright in that department."

I nod slightly. She wasn't the only one who thought so. Paul used to brag to me about their sex life, still did now that I come to think of it. He always seemed so proud of his spitfire of a wife, but I also know he does it to get a rise out of me, knowing I have had a crush on her since before they got together.

I sigh nostalgically. I still remember the first time I saw her, I mean really saw her. We grew up together, and she and Michelle were good friends when they were in school. But the first time I really noticed her as a woman, was at my 21st: her dark hair whipping up behind her, green eyes sparkling, a big smile on her face and a body that had made both Paul and I gasp involuntarily.

She was so extraordinarily gorgeous; so classically beautiful, that I was immediately reminded of Elizabeth Taylor…

…and I just about laughed out loud…

"I thought I met the girl of me dreams," I thought to myself as I remembered that day twelve years ago, "gorgeous, a go-getter-"

"Oh she were a go-getter alright," she retorts quietly from beside me, and it is then that I realize that I have spoken my thoughts aloud; she isn't suspicious of whom I was referring to, so I hastily cover my tracks, "even booked a mini-break," I continue, "in Prague. I've got the tickets and everything-," I feel her shift, lifting her head off my shoulder as she cocks her head to look at me

"Hey," she states comfortingly, her hand coming up and resting upon my chest, "you'll find somebody else," she tells me reassuringly as I feel a heat spread through my skin beneath her fingertips; she rests her head back on my shoulder, "you're a good catch," she finishes lovingly, and it is in that moment that I want to tell her that I don't want somebody else…

I've only ever wanted her…

"Mrs. Connor?" a voice breaks me out of my thoughts and both Carla and I rise to our feet

"Yeah that's me," she responds worriedly, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice as we face the doctor

"As you know your husband has been in surgery most of the night," he states and I watch as her body begins to shake before me, "we've done everything we can-" he states apologetically

I hear the sob push its way past her lips as I stand immobile behind her, simply staring at the man in front of us; but as she turns to me in despair, I find my attention now focused on her. I pull her now sobbing and trembling body into my arms, wrapping them tightly about her, and gently cradle her head, softly hushing into her hair as I sway her…

…the love of my life…

my brother's wife…