He takes my hand, his fingers sliding between mine. “He knows what he’s doing, Mills. He’ll be okay.”
The reassurance should help. It doesn’t.
The anchor’s voice cracks again, and I realize my vision’s gone blurry. A tear hits the back of my hand before I even register it.
Liam moves closer. “Hey, hey—don’t do that.”
He brushes a thumb under my cheek, gentle but sure, and I feel the pad of his skin against the damp trail he wipes away.
“This is scary,” I whisper.
“I know, babe.” His voice softens, that deep tone that’s always had a way of disarming me. “Come here.”
I fold into him before I even realize I’ve moved. His arms wrap around me, and the world outside disappears. The warmth of him seeps into my bones. He strokes slow circles along my back, the fabric of my shirt catching slightly beneath his rough fingertips.
The silence stretches, punctuated only by the muffled TV and Nimbus’s soft meow.
“Have you heard from anyone at the library?” Liam asks after a while.
“I talked to Shepard earlier.”
“The director guy?”
I nod. “Yeah. He said they’re keeping watch but to stay away.”
“Good.”
I glance up at him. His jaw’s tight, his eyes shadowed but alert. He’s been out there, riding through the chaos just to check on me. The thought makes something hot and tender bloom behind my ribs.
Nimbus hops down from the cushion and climbs into Liam’s lap without hesitation, curling into a perfect little ball. Liam huffs a small laugh, scratching behind the cat’s ear. “Hey bud.”
“He likes you,” I say, a hint of relief creeping into my tone. “Probably because you feed him too many treats.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You eaten anything?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Millie—”
“Please,” I interrupt. My voice cracks. “Don’t. Just hold me.”
He nods, no argument.
I rest my head against his shoulder again. His T-shirt smells faintly of detergent and the road, and beneath it, that warm, familiar scent I’ve always associated with him. Cinnamon and coffee. Comfort.
“Where’s your mom right now?”
He exhales against my hair. “She and Aunt Dee are staying home for now. Power’s flickered in and out, but it’s safe.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
His thumb traces over the back of my hand.
“You okay?” he asks.
I look up at him, and for a second, everything feels too still. The TV flashes another headline—Firefighters Missing in Action—and I can’t stop my gaze from catching on the word “missing.”
