Silence settles again. But this time, it crackles.
I feel his hand inch closer on the center console. Not touching. Just there. So close. I don’t move away.
The storm gets closer as lightning flares in a bright burst over the distant hills, illuminating the road, the dash, the outline of his face. He looks good in the light. He looks dangerous in it. And for the first time in months, I don’t feel tired. Or sick. Or broken. I feel alive.
His voice is softer when he speaks again. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod, barely breathing.
“You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up. Still. Even when I was pissed off and full of pride and convinced you’d be better off without me… you were still it.”
My chest aches.
“I don’t need a perfect ending,” I whisper. “I just need something real.”
“You’ve always been real to me.”
Another beat.
Then I say the thing I’ve been holding inside since he first walked into that bar like a ghost from my past.
“I missed you.”
His jaw tightens, like the words hit somewhere deep.
“I missed us,” I say, softer. “Even when I hated you. Even when I wanted to move on.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just reaches out and slips his fingers between mine. And I let him.
I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I don’t know how this ends. But for tonight, the air between us is warm and alive, the past behind us and the possibility of something more flickering in the space where our hands meet.
By the time we pull up to the bed and breakfast, the sky has opened up just enough to release a steady mist. Not quite rain. Not quite nothing. Just enough to make the air heavy and my skirt cling a little closer to my legs as I step out of the truck.
Liam comes around and opens my door like he has all night, but this time, he doesn’t immediately step back. His hand lingers at the small of my back as I slide down.
We stand there in the quiet just the hum of the truck engine, the scent of wet asphalt, and the soft flicker of the porch light above us.
I should go in. I should say goodnight and escape the thudding pressure behind my ribs. But I don’t move.
Neither does he.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say softly, breaking the silence. “It was a lot to process, but good.”
He nods. “Yeah. It was.”
I take a slow breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble. The clothes. The restaurant. The questions.”
“I didn’t want to fix it in one night,” he says, stepping closer. “I just wanted to show you I’m still trying. That I’m not the same man I was when you walked away.”
My throat tightens. “Liam, I didn’t want to walk away. I had to.”
“I know,” he says, voice quiet. “And I let you. I didn’t fight. Not really. I shut down. Let fear do what it always does to me.”
His eyes lift to mine, searching.
“But I’ve been fighting since you left. Therapy. The ranch. Myself. I’ve been trying to become someone who doesn’t just love you but knowshowto love you.”
I blink hard, trying to keep it together. “I didn’t expect this version of you.”
