He lay there, staring into the dark, Liam’s touch branding him in a way he couldn’t shake.
He wasn’t sure what scared him more. That this was temporary—or that it wasn’t.
Chapter 30
Liam
The SUV eased to the curb just after noon, its engine purring low before falling silent. His driver offered no small talk, just a polite incline of his head as Liam stepped out. The man retrieved his bag from the trunk, set it gently at his feet, and slipped back into the city’s stream of traffic.
For a moment, Liam stood still on the pavement, fingers curled loosely around the handle of his bag as his gaze lifted to the building’s facade. It was exactly as he’d left it—the clean, sharp lines, the glass glinting in the sun, every detail orderly and pristine.
The doorman offered a smile that was polished smooth from years of repetition. “Welcome back, Mr. Hart.”
Liam’s mouth shaped into something that might pass for gratitude. “Thank you.”
The elevator carried him upward in silence, the faint hum of the motor the only sound. When the doors parted, the hallway greeted him with its signature scent—lemon polish and wealth.
Inside, the apartment was drenched in midday light. Emma sat on the couch with a book propped against her knee, the corner of one page caught between her fingers. She looked up at the sound of the door, and her smile was immediate—the kind ofsmile that used to steady him but now only reminded him how far he’d drifted.
“Hey,” she said, setting the book aside. “You’re home.”
She rose carefully and crossed the room to hug him. Her body was warm against his, her belly pressing into him with a gentle insistence that caught his breath. He closed his eyes against the sensation.
She leaned back just enough to search his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
She didn’t question it. Instead, she took his hand and guided it to her stomach. “She’s been practicing her gymnastics routine.”
He waited, still as a stone. Then came a small kick, sharp and sudden. It made something twist deep in his chest.
“She missed you,” Emma murmured, her fingers covering his, quiet awe clear in her voice.
Liam’s throat worked around the words. “Yeah. I missed you too.” A truth wrapped in a lie, or a lie wrapped in a truth. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Emma’s lips brushed his cheek. “Come sit. I want to hear everything.”
He let her lead him to the couch and curl close, her hand resting where their child shifted beneath her skin. She asked about the shoot, the weather, the lodge, the crew—and about Jacob.
He answered each question with precision, choosing words that balanced on the thin wire between truth and omission, keeping the illusion upright.
Then she started filling him in on everything he’d missed—the baby’s latest kicks, her last check-up, a nursery mood board she’d started on Pinterest.
He responded the way he should, smiling when it fit, nodding when it didn’t hurt. Beneath the performance, something coiled tighter and tighter. The walls of their home seemed closer than they had when he’d walked in, the air thinner. It was as though he’d stepped into a role that no longer fit, one that chafed at the seams and threatened to crush the breath from his lungs.
***
Liam sat hunched on the edge of the couch, elbows digging into his knees, fingers locked in his hair as though he could hold himself together if he just pulled hard enough. His breath came too fast, too shallow, never enough. Every drag of air clawed at his ribs and still left him hollow.
Emma had fallen asleep hours ago. She’d curled up against him and pressed her lips to his chest before drifting off, peaceful in a way he couldn’t reach. He lay awake beside her, skin prickling, every breath catching tight in his chest.
The silence wasn’t comfort; it was a trap. A void that swallowed sound and air alike. Even their home felt wrong, as if everything had shifted half an inch while he was gone—familiar, yet misaligned.
He couldn’t stay in bed, so he had stumbled out here, searching for breath, for air, for something. Except nothing worked. His vision was tunneling, his hands were shaking, and his ribs cinched like they’d been welded together.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his phone and typed the only truth he had left in him:I’m not ok.
The screen barely had time to dim before it lit again, Jacob’s name glowing across it. He fumbled to answer, clutching the phone like a lifeline.
