But there’s something in his expression that makes me feel like this game isn’t so one-sided anymore.
After he signs the receipt, he stands and holds out his hand. I don’t hesitate. I slip my fingers into his, and for a moment, I forget it’s fake. It feels too natural. Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
Outside, the air is thick with moisture and tension. The sky over Sheridan pulses with the low flicker of distant lightning, far off but coming closer. Thunder rolls soft like it’s clearing its throat.
Liam leads me to his truck and opens the door with a little bow.
I give him a pointed look as I climb in. “I told you it was going to rain.”
He smirks, resting a hand on the open doorframe, eyes catching the glow of lightning just behind me.
“And I told you, honey, being stuck on the ranch wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
My heart skips a beat, and this time, there’s no pretending it didn’t.
The cab of the truck is quiet as Liam pulls away from the restaurant, headlights cutting through the dark. Neither of us says much at first, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward. It feels loaded. Like we’re both waiting for something we don’t have the nerve to name.
Rain starts to fall about ten minutes into the drive. Just a light patter at first, soft enough to sound like fingertips brushing the roof. It makes the world outside blur, the lights from passing farms and mailboxes glowing like smudged fireflies.
I glance over at him. He’s relaxed behind the wheel, one hand resting casually at the top, the other draped on the console. His sleeves are still rolled up from dinner, and the fabric of his black shirt stretches just slightly when he turns the wheel. He smells like cologne and fresh air and something warm I can’t quite define. If I were brave, I’d tell him how handsome he looks right now.
He catches me looking.
“What?” he asks, lips quirking.
I shake my head quickly, gaze snapping back to the rain-slicked windshield. “Nothing.”
But my cheeks are warm again, and he knows it.
The rain picks up just a little, still soft, still gentle, but now it’s rhythmic, tapping like a heartbeat against the windows. The kind of rain that makes everything feel closer. More intimate.
“I always liked this kind of weather,” Liam says, voice low. “Makes it feel like the rest of the world’s asleep.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
We ride in silence for another mile, and then he says, “Tonight felt real.”
My heart stutters. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, not looking at me. “Dinner. You laughing. Holding your hand.” He glances over. “It didn’t feel fake.”
The air between us tightens, like the truck itself is holding its breath.
“I know it’s pretend,” he adds quickly, like he’s trying to walk it back, “but it didn’t feel like it.”
I turn my face toward the window, watching the rain streak down the glass like threads unraveling. My voice comes out softer than I expect. “Yeah. Me neither.”
For one heartbeat, it hangs there, fragile and full of meaning.
But then Liam says, “That’s good. Means Teddy will eat it up.”
Just like that, the moment dissolves.
“Yeah,” I murmur, my throat tighter than it should be.
I glance out into the dark, watching the water slide down the glass in lazy trails, and let my thoughts wander backward, where they always seem to go when I’m around him too long.
It hurt, watching Liam choose Amber over me. I told myself it was fine. That he didn’t know. That I hadn’t made it obvious. That I’d felt it like a knife to the gut when he picked her. But then I saw what they were like together. The way they fought, the tension, the constant push and pull. A wildfire trying to burn itself out. And I realized maybe I’d been lucky. Because I got the better version of him.
