It wasn’t safe anymore—if it ever had been. They didn’t flirt, not really. Nothing they said crossed a line, but they talked a lot. And Jacob, who rarely let anyone close, found himself opening up. With Liam, the walls had somehow crumbled.
Last night, they’d talked about the future—nottheirs, of course, just the vague kind. The kind you could talk about in abstractions, pretending it wasn’t personal. They’d talked about fear, about the strange loneliness of being surrounded by people who thought they knew you and didn’t. For long stretches, they hadn’t spoken at all. They’d simply stayed on the line, listening to the space fill up with something that didn’t need words.
Jacob didn’t know what to make of any of it. He should’ve shut it down before it went deeper, before it meant something. The truth was, he needed it. He needed that voice in his ear, and Liam’s laugh that came too easily. He needed the way Liam listened, like every word meant something, as if he could see through every wall Jacob had put up. And God help him, he wanted more.
Jacob rose slowly, brushing moss and dirt from the back of his jeans. He should head back; someone would notice his absence and come looking eventually. The first exterior scene was scheduled to shoot soon. It would be just the two of them, walking beneath the trees.
Still, he lingered, letting himself hold the quiet for one minute longer. Just a little more calm before the storm broke open.
***
By the time shooting wrapped, the sun had dipped behind the hills. The clearing near the lodge had transformed. Tables were dragged into a rough semicircle, lanterns hung from tree branches, and a big bonfire sparked and roared in the center. Someone was grilling burgers and vegetables over a wide metal grate, the air thick with smoke and char. It was casual and chaotic—a kind of adult summer camp.
He sat on a rough bench at the edge of the group, one foot braced on a stone, beer bottle loose in his hand. Close enough not to be rude, far enough to be left alone. He watched the fire eat through wood, the way the flames bent the faces around it, blurring them into something half-real.
Across the circle, Liam laughed loudly at something one of the crew said, a bottle raised in salute. Warmth poured out of him like it cost nothing. He was in his element: relaxed and open.
Jacob looked away. He didn’t like parties: too much chatter, too much performance, and too much empty noise. Out here, however, the woods and the lack of walls made it almost bearable. The fire’s crackle, the sting of cold air, and the smoke clinging to his clothes—those were things he could stand, maybe even liked.
His eyes kept drifting back to Liam. Not deliberately, but they always found him. Liam moved through people like water: talking, laughing, lighting them up simply by looking their way. How the fuck did he do that? How did he make belonging look so easy? Jacob had never possessed that kind of ease. Not even close.
He dragged his gaze away, swallowing a long drink, forcing his attention on the hiss of wood splitting in the flames. The pull was relentless, though; his eyes kept snapping back like magnets.
Liam looked good tonight. Too good. The soft Henley clung in all the right places, his hair was perfectly—infuriatingly—messy, and that face… Jesus. Firelight flickered in his warm brown eyes; a thoughtful crease formed between his brows; his mouth was soft and utterly distracting. He couldn’t look away. Jacob hated how badly he wanted to bite that top lip, to taste the sound Liam would make when he did.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d never thought about anyone like this. Not even when he was young and falling in love was still something that happened. He’d never been a fan of the whole falling-in-love thing; it was reckless, messy, and someone always ended up hurt.
Growing up had meant learning better. Choosing better. Caroline had been that choice. There was respect, attraction, and a shared sense of direction. Solid ground was what mattered, not the flimsy rush of falling in love.
But this? This was different. This was closer to obsession, and he’d never known anything like it. Yet here he was, undone by Liam’s goddamn eyelashes.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was getting out of control.
Across the fire, Liam was still laughing, still glowing in that stupid, maddening way of his. One of the sound guys leaned too close, saying something that made Liam throw his head back in laughter. The guy stayed there, crowding Liam’s space. Every word came with another touch, another excuse to put his hands where they didn’t fucking belong.
Something sharp twisted under Jacob’s ribs. His grip on the beer bottle tightened until his knuckles whitened.
Then Liam glanced at him, just for a second—a flicker of warm eyes across firelight. A few minutes later, Liam broke from the group and wandered over. Jacob felt the bench shift undernew weight, and the nearness prickling his skin before Liam even spoke.
“Hey,” Liam said softly, like he wasn’t sure how welcome he was.
Jacob drained the last swallow of beer and set the bottle down at his feet. His voice came rougher than intended. “That sound guy your type?”
What the fuck?
He sounded like a jealous teenager. Petty and juvenile in a way he would have mocked in anyone else. But it was out there now, too late to take it back.
Liam blinked, then smiled crookedly. “Wow. Straight for the throat, huh?”
Jacob shrugged, jaw tight. “Just wondering.”
Liam turned slightly toward him, grin tugging wider. “Jealous?”
Jacob’s eyes snapped to his. “Should I be?”
The question hung there, heavier than the night.
Liam held it for a beat too long before shaking his head. “We were just talking.”
