Part 41

The discharge process at the hospital had been a blur of signatures and hushed warnings about concussion symptoms. As Caroline hobbled toward the automatic doors, the biting January wind caught her breath, sending a sharp, jagged reminder through her taped ribs. She had spent three days staring at the London Eye, convinced she would be taking a taxi back to an empty flat filled with the ghosts of the night she couldn't seem to forget.

But as the glass doors slid open, it wasn't a taxi waiting at the curb. It was Liam.

He was leaning against his car, 'hey you' he smiled the moment he saw her. He pushed off the door and reached for her bag before she could even protest.

'Liam?' she croaked, her voice still coarse. 'What are you doing here? I thought... I'd just call an Uber.'

'Not a chance, Caro,' Liam said firmly, guiding her toward the passenger seat with a gentle hand on her elbow. 'You're coming to mine. No arguments. You need looking after, and I've got a house full of people who won't let you sit in the dark and brood.'

The drive to Liam's house was quiet. Caroline watched the grey London streets flicker by, her heart thumping uncomfortably against her bruised chest, being in a car again for the first time after the crash was giving her anxiety. That and the question why Liam had come to pick her up and why she hadn't heard from Noel in those 3 days? She even wondered if she even still had a job?

When they arrived, the front door flew open before Liam could even open her car door.

'Caroline!' Bowie shrieked, her small face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy. She bolted over to her but stopped short, her eyes widening at the dark bruise blooming across her temple and the way she held her side. The older kids hovered in the hallway behind her, their usual chaos replaced by a tentative, worried silence.

'Easy, poppet,' Liam cautioned, ushering Caroline inside. 'Caro's a bit fragile, alright?'

The house smelled of toasted bread and coffee, a beautiful contrast to the sterile hospital scent of bleach and illness. Liam led her to the sofa, burying her in a mountain of knitted blankets. Bowie immediately climbed up beside her, moving with uncharacteristic care as she tucked her head under her arm.

'Auntie Debbie made your bed in the spare room,' the little girl said quietly. 'And she even made soup and it's really yummy.'

Caroline looked around the room, the warmth of Liam's family pressing in on her when Debbie came bustling into the living room, one look at Caroline's battered face and the way she flinched as she tried to settle into the cushions was enough to make Debbie's eyes shimmer.

'Oh, look at you, you poor lamb,' Debbie whispered, leaning over to press a soft, lingering kiss to Caroline's forehead. 'You're safe now. You aren't moving from that sofa until I say so.'

Caroline offered a grateful smile, 'Thank you Debbie, I really appreciate it..'.

'It's the least we could do, darling,' Debbie said, her voice thick with a maternal warmth that Caroline had never in her life felt. She reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind Caroline's ear, careful to avoid the dark, yellowing bruise near her temple. 'You're family, Caroline. Now, don't you worry about a thing. Liam's already been to your flat and grabbed some of your bits, your cozy pajamas and that book you were reading.'

Caroline felt a lump form in her throat. The kindness was almost harder to bear than the coldness of the hospital. It laid bare exactly what had been missing from her life: a sense of belonging.

'I don't want to be a burden,' Caroline whispered, her fingers knotting into the wool of the blanket. 'I know you've got the kids and... everything else.'

'Burden? Don't be daft,' Debbie tutted, already heading back toward the kitchen to fetch a tray. 'The kids are thrilled to have their "Auntie Caro" here, even if you are a bit battered. Bowie's already decided she's your official nurse, haven't you, sweetie?'

Bowie nodded solemnly from Caroline's side, her eyes wide and serious. 'I have to make sure you don't wiggle too much,' the little girl explained. 'Because of your "ouchies".'

Despite the ache in her ribs, Caroline managed a small, genuine laugh. But as Debbie disappeared into the kitchen and Liam lingered in the hallway, the reality of the silence from the other side of the family began to settle.

Liam caught her eye from the doorway, his expression unreadable as he lingered with her bag. He knew what she was looking for.

'Noel's not here, Caro,' Liam said softly, addressing the elephant in the room before she had to find the courage to ask. 'He's... he's dealing with some major fallout. Sara's been making things difficult since he served the papers for the divorce. He's trying to keep the lawyers off his back so they don't come sniffing around here, that's why the kids are staying here now, as well.'

Caroline looked down at her lap, her fingers picking at the edge of a knitted blanket. 'Does he even know I'm out?' she asked 'I haven't heard or seen him in 3 days..'

Liam stepped closer and gave her a reassuring wink. 'He knows. But I told him to stay away for a bit. I told him you needed to heal without his mess hanging over your head.'

Caroline's fingers stilled against the wool of the blanket. She looked up at Liam, her eyes clouding with a mixture of confusion and a sudden, sharp sting of rejection. 'Oh ok..that's alright then..something else, did you get my laptop from my apartment as well? I have a lot of work to do and I'm behind enough as it is' she said, acting all nonchalant.

Liam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked weary, caught between protecting her and being loyal to a brother he was still furious with. 'Caro, look at you. You can barely sit up, we've got everything covered. And about Noel..he's in the middle of a legal cage-fight with Sara. She's frozen accounts, she's screaming about the house, and she's looking for any leverage she can get. If he came here, he'd bring all that venom with him. I wanted you to have some peace. Just peace.'

She reached out a trembling hand for her bag, her jaw set in a line of stubborn defiance. 'And my laptop? I'm serious, Liam..If I'm not working, I'm thinking. And if I'm thinking, I'm remembering the sound of my car rolling over. So please, just... give me the computer.'

Liam looked at her, seeing the armor she was trying to strap back on. He knew that look; it was her survival mechanism. If she could focus on spreadsheets and deadlines, she didn't have to face the fact that she was currently a refugee in his guestroom.

'I didn't bring it, Caro,' Liam admitted softly, ignoring the flash of anger in her eyes. 'The doctors said no screens for at least another forty-eight hours because of the concussion. If you start squinting at a monitor, your head is going to explode. Trust me, the world isn't going to stop spinning if you take two days off.'

'My world already stopped spinning on New Year's Eve, Liam,' she snapped, her voice cracking. She immediately softened, seeing the hurt on his face. 'I'm sorry..I didn't mean to sound ungrateful..I just..I can't just sit here and do nothing..I'm going bonkers enough as it is'

'I know, Caro. I know,' Liam said, his voice dropping to a low, soothing hum. He didn't move away; instead, he sat on the edge of the coffee table, effectively blocking her view of the hallway where her bag lay. 'But "doing nothing" is exactly what your brain needs to knit itself back together. You've been through a high-speed rollover and a thermal shock that nearly stopped your heart. If you try to crunch numbers now, you'll just end up in a dark room with a migraine that'll make those broken ribs feel like a tickle.'

Caroline sank back into the cushions, the defiance bleeding out of her as the physical exhaustion reclaimed its territory. The room felt too bright, the smells too sharp. She hated the vulnerability, the way her own body was betraying her will.

Debbie appeared from the kitchen, carrying a small wooden tray. 'Enough talk. Soup first, then a nap. And Bowie,' she looked at the little girl who was still glued to Caroline's side, 'you are the Chief Quiet Officer. If Caro closes her eyes, you make sure the boys don't come charging in here like a herd of elephants, understood?'

Bowie gave a sharp, determined nod. 'I will, Auntie Debbie,' she whispered.

As the warmth of the first spoonful of soup hit her stomach, Caroline felt the prickle of tears again. She was safe. She was surrounded by a family that wasn't hers, yet treated her as if she were the most precious thing in the house. 'Thank you,' she whispered, her voice barely audible as the exhaustion finally won its battle against her anxiety.

The room began to soften at the edges. She felt Debbie take the half-finished tray away and heard the gentle click of the lamp being turned off. Bowie remained a warm, steady weight against her side, a tiny sentry keeping the world at bay. As Caroline's eyes drifted shut, the sharp London wind and the screech of tires faded into the quiet hum of the house. For the first time in days, the darkness wasn't a threat; it was a sanctuary.

The next forty-eight hours passed in a hazy montage of morphine-thick dreams and the rhythmic sounds of the Gallagher household. Every time Caroline drifted toward consciousness, a different person was there. Once, it was Liam, silently replacing her water glass; another time, it was Debbie, humming a soft tune while she folded laundry at the foot of the sofa.

By the third morning, the "brain fog" had finally begun to lift, replaced by a restless, twitchy energy that no amount of Debbie's homemade soup could soothe. Her ribs still felt like they were being squeezed by a heated vise, but her mind, her sharp, professional, logistical mind, was screaming for movement.

While the house was quiet, Liam out for a run in the park with Buttons, and Debbie upstairs wrangling the kids into clean clothes, Caroline seized her moment. She gingerly rolled off the sofa, suppressing a groan as every muscle in her body protested, and shuffled toward the hallway. She found her bag tucked behind the console table.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and quickly plugged in the charger to switch it on again. 142 unread messages. 86 missed calls.

She ignored the personal ones for a split second, scrolling straight to the Oasis Tour Management thread. The world hadn't stopped. In fact, it was accelerating. Dates for the South American leg needed final sign-offs, and there was a heated dispute over the pyrotechnics supplier for the Manchester shows.

'Right,' she whispered, her voice still a bit thin. 'Back to life.'

She retreated to the guest room, propping herself up with every pillow she could find to keep her chest upright. She didn't have her laptop, but she had a smartphone and a stubborn streak a mile wide.

She was deep into a spreadsheet regarding the stage-rigging logistics for Heaton Park when the door creaked open.

Liam stood there, holding a mug of tea, his face dropping from a smile to a scowl the moment he saw the blue light reflecting in her eyes. 'Are you joking? I leave the room for twenty minutes and you're staging a corporate takeover from my spare bed?'

'Liam, don't,' Caroline said, her thumb flying across the screen as she dictated a memo. 'If I don't approve these rider changes by noon, the band is going to be sitting on plastic crates in Buenos Aires. I'm fine. The headache is a six out of ten, tops.'

Liam walked over and set the tea down with a heavy thud. 'You're a nightmare, you know that? Most people take at least 2 weeks off for a flipped Range Rover.'

He sat on the edge of the bed, his shadow falling over her screen. 'Noel called. Again. He's managed to get a temporary injunction against Sara's legal team regarding the house and stuff. Anyway, he wanted to know how you were..holding up..'

Caroline paused, her thumb hovering over the 'Send' button. 'And what did you tell him?'

'I told him you were currently a stubborn pain in the arse who refuses to rest,' Liam smirked, but then his expression turned serious. 'He's coming over tonight, Caro. To talk. About the tour, about the mess..about everything. Can you handle that, or do I need to lock the front door?'

Caroline looked at the tiny screen in her hand, the chaos of the tour, and then at Liam. 'Sure yeah'.

'Good,' Liam muttered, though he still looked skeptical. 'But if your head starts thumping like a bass drum, the laptop goes in the bin. Boss's orders, and for once, that would be me.'

He stood up, pointing a warning finger at her before heading toward the door. 'Drink your tea, Caro. And for fuck's sake, swap those fluffy cow-print pyjamas for something a bit more professional before he gets here. You look like a disoriented farmhand who's had a rough night in the barn.' He gave her a teasing wink before disappearing into the hallway.

Caroline looked down at the black-and-white splotches. Liam was right; the cows weren't exactly screaming "high-level tour manager," but the fleece was the only thing soft enough not to irritate her taped ribs.