“The bathroom faucet?” she heard herself ask, because apparently her mouth had decided small talk was the way to go when her heart was trying to pound out of her chest.
He blinked. Looked at the wrench in his hand like he’d forgotten it was there.
“Dripping,” he said slowly. “I couldn’t sleep with the—” He stopped. Shook his head. “What are you doing here?”
Good question. Excellent question. She’d rehearsed an answer to this question for the entire drive over, and now every single word had fled her brain like rats from a sinking ship.
“I practiced a speech,” she said. “In the car. It was really good. I hit all the major points—apology, explanation, emotional vulnerability. Very well-organized.”
“And?”
“And I have no idea what any of it was now.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Just barely. “That tracks.”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other like they’d been waiting to escape. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I accused you of only being there because of the spell. I’m sorry I tried to break the binding before wecould—before I could—” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “God, I’m terrible at this.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“I’m really not.” She laughed, and it came out shaky. “I had a whole thing. About fear. About how Derek spent twenty years making me feel like I was too much, and then I spent the next three years making myself invisible so I’d never feel that way again. About how I was so convinced you’d leave that I made it happen first, because at least then it would be my choice.”
Liam leaned against the doorframe, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. The wrench dangled forgotten from his fingers.
“And then you left,” she continued, “and the binding broke, and you were free to go anywhere in the world, and you went—” She gestured at the faded turquoise door, the flickering neon, the parking lot full of potholes. “—here. Twenty minutes away. Close enough to come back.”
“Close enough for you to find me,” he said quietly. “If you wanted to.”
“You were waiting.”
“Aye.”
“For me to figure it out.”
“Hoping.” He set the wrench down on the small table just inside the door. “Not the same thing.”
“Liam—”
“You told me to go.” His voice was even, but shecould see the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he was holding himself still. “You’ve told me to go a dozen times. Pushed me away every time I got too close. And I kept staying because I thought—” He exhaled. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. You made it clear you didn’t want me there.”
“I was lying.”
“I know.”
“I was scared.”
“I know that too.” He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw the exhaustion underneath the stoicism. The hope he’d been carrying alongside the hurt. “The question is whether you’re still scared, or if something’s changed.”
Cassie took a breath. The glow that had faded during her fumbling speech flickered back to life, soft and warm along her skin. Not chaotic. Not out of control. Justthere, rising with the truth she was finally ready to say.
“I’m terrified,” she admitted. “I’m a complete disaster. My magic sets things on fire. My cat is mean to me. My ex is engaged to someone who can do a handstand for eleven minutes and looks good in yoga pants, and I can’t even touch my toes without making noises that suggest I’m dying.”
The twitch at the corner of his mouth became an actual smile. Small, reluctant, but real.
“I’m probably too much,” she continued. “I feel everything too big. I want things too loudly. I spentmy whole marriage being told I needed to take up less space, and now I’m—I’mglowing in motel parking lotsand talking to my toaster and I have no idea how to be a person who deserves?—”
“Cassie.”
“—someone steady and patient and good, someone who fixes ice machines he doesn’t even need to fix just because he can’t stand to see something broken?—”
