“I’m no small man, Molly,” I warned quietly. “If you need me to stop, just tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Instead of fear, my words only made her want this more. She pressed her lips to my neck, biting down where she’d kissed me. “Show me just how big of a man you really are, Liam Carson,” she said, daring me.
Without another word, I slid into her—deep and hard. She gasped into my ear, her legs falling open even wider as her body welcomed me.
“No matter what happens between us after tonight,” I rasped against her skin, “you will neverforget the way I felt, stretching you out beyond no return, Molly McKinley. I can promise you that.”
I continued to thrust until Molly screamed my name so loud it echoed off the walls. I sent her over the edge again and again and again, until the sky began to lighten with morning.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, I snuck out before she woke up.
It was better this way.
Easier to let go of what was hands down the best night of my life.
Chapter 6 – Liam
Two months later…
Most people don’t hate Sundays. They just resent them—the reminder that the weekend was too short and Monday is waiting with its usual stress and obligations.
I hated Sundays for an entirely different reason.
Once a month, Sundays meant dinner with my family. And there was something about returning to the house where my childhood trauma lived—where it still breathed—that sent me spiraling before I ever pulled into the driveway. The entire drive there, I counted the hours. The minutes. I begged for the night to be over before it even began.
If my family was anything, it was predictable. Dinner always followed the same script. Dad would ask what I’d been up to, and I’d answer just long enough for him to find a way to circle back to the same conclusion: that instead of being a small-town cop, I should be in law school, becoming a lawyer like him. Irritation would crawl under my skin, and I’d rush through my meal, halfway out the door before my plate was cold.
But not before I saw him.
An old photo of my brother—framed on the wall or sitting on the mantel. A life frozen in time. Except those pictures weren’t just memories or moments captured and forgotten. They were evidence. Proof of a life everyone else seemed to move on from.
Everyone except me.
There wasn’t a single day that passed where I didn’t think about my brother. Not one.
The day he died was the day my entire family fell apart. I watched my mom turn into a shell of the person she used to be. And my dad? For him, it was just another day. He went into his office the very next morning like nothing had happened, working day in and day out. I was surprised he even showed up for the funeral.
Losing my brother left an ache in my chest I’d never be able to explain. But I couldn’t talk about it with anyone—especially not my family. My mom wouldn’t survive the weight of it, and my dad wouldn’t give a shit.
That was why my plan for Sunday dinner was always simple: get in and get out.
I climbed up the concrete steps to my parents’ house, each one heavier than the last. After knocking on the large iron doors, I heard footsteps approaching from the other side.
“Hey, honey,” my mom said as she opened the door.
I smiled warmly. “Hey, Mom.”
As soon as I stepped into the foyer, the dark cloud settled over me. The smell, the sounds—even the shine of the marble floors—dragged me straight back to my own version of hell.
“I made your favorite for dinner tonight—ribeye and roasted potatoes,” she said, guiding me toward the kitchen. “Your dad should be home from work soon.”
He was late. Shocker.
I slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, positioning myself carefully. “How’s your art coming along?”
“I sold a couple of pieces last week. I think my newest one’s already spoken for too. It’s a coastal cowgirl vibe. A woman asked about it when I was working at the gallery last weekend.”
My dad made more than enough money for my mom not to work. They lived in a massive house in Great Falls—the largest city in Montana. But she still chose to paint, still chose to work downtown at the Great Falls Art Gallery. As a kid, I never understood why.
