“And witness another marital dispute?” I rasp. “I think not.”
His chest rumbles with a soft, sad laugh. And then—God—I feel the press of his lips against the top of my head.
It’s not a kiss meant to ignite. It’s a kiss meant to keep me standing. And somehow, it’s even more shattering because of it.I close my eyes and cling to him, letting the moment anchor me while everything else falls apart.
9
We pull into Liam’s drive just as the mist thickens into a steady drizzle, the mountains behind his house cloaked in heavy gray.
The Chief had met us outside Lura’s Porch before we left, handing over a small bag of clothes he managed to grab. He promised he’d let me know when it might be safe to retrieve more. But now, sitting in the cab of Liam’s truck, a new fear coils deep in my bones, tighter and colder than the rain outside.
Lura didn’t have any living family that I know of. No children. No siblings. And to my knowledge, no will. No instructions. No safety net. And the building—the only home I’ve known since coming to Broken Heart Creek—what happens to it now? Who does it belong to?
And selfishly, shamefully, another thought worms its way to the surface. What’s going to happen to me?
The weight of it crushes down all at once, and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. I voice every fear, every awful what-if, my throat raw and cracking around them.
Liam listens, silent and steady, and then without a word he reaches over and pulls my hand into his. Big and warm and solid around mine.
“You've got a place, honey,” he says quietly. “Right here with me.”
My heart stutters. I let out a watery laugh that sounds more like a broken thing caught between hope and heartbreak.
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep it light, trying to armor myself with humor. “That'll work for a few weeks. But I know you, Liam Stone. You're gonna meet some busty blonde at Knot and Spur, flash that cowboy charm, and want to bring her home.”
I shake my head, the words sharper than I mean them to be, because if I let myself soften, I’ll fall apart completely.
“And then what?” I whisper. “I’ll be in the way? Some awkward explanation you have to make?”
I stare down at our hands, blinking hard.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, voice shaking. “I do. More than you know. But I have to figure this out. I can’t be someone’s charity case.”
Liam is quiet for a long moment. The kind of silence that feels thick and full of things he’s not sure he’s allowed to say. Then, with heartbreaking gentleness, he squeezes my hand.
“Okay,” he agrees, voice rough. “But you have time, Olive. As much as you need.”
I look up, ready to protest, ready to argue, but he cuts me off with a smile that’s sad and real and so damn patient.
“No busty blonde beating down my door, honey,” he says. “Just you.”
And somehow, that feels even more dangerous than a promise. Because if I believe him, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let him go.
“Let’s get you inside,” Liam says softly. “You can shower while I throw together some dinner.”
I nod, the motion stiff and mechanical, like my body’s working on autopilot while my mind struggles to catch up.
The rain has picked up again, cold and insistent as we step out of the truck. I follow him inside, boots scuffing against the stone floor of his entryway, the familiar scent of leather and cedar wrapping around me.
He leads me down the hall, past the living room and kitchen, to the spare bedroom tucked just beside his own.
When he pushes the door open, I bite back a groan.
The room is cozy enough, but the thin wall between this room and his isn't lost on me. If or when he finds someone else, someone who actually fits into his life, I’ll hear everything. Every whispered laugh, every groan, every proof that I was just a placeholder in a house that was never meant to be mine.
I shove the thought down hard, swallowing the lump in my throat before it can choke me.
Liam sets the small bag the chief brought onto the bed, his movements careful, like he knows how fragile I feel even without me saying a word.
