Leaving Liam (Broken Heart Creek #2)

Chapter 1

“Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready?”

The crowd erupts like it’s the damn Super Bowl, whooping and hollering loud enough to rattle the neon beer signs on the walls. I glance at my friend, Amber, though tonight she’s more of the devil on my shoulder. She’s grinning like this is the best night of her life.

“Are you sure about this?” I shout over the roar.

“Hell yeah!” she yells back and then, without a second thought, lifts her top and flashes the crowd.

They lose their collective minds.

Me? I’m re-evaluating every life decision that’s led me to this honkytonk bar the night before our finals. There are a million things I should be doing, but, no, I let her talk me into coming out tonight.

The music kicks in. Something with a thumping bass and a wicked twang.

And a line of women steps forward. Buckets of ice-cold water are dumped over them, soaking their clothes and sending squeals into the air.

What throws me most isn’t the water. It’s the sheer range of women standing beside me.

Tall, short, skinny, curvy. Some are barely twenty, others with laugh lines and mom energy.

It’s like a fever dream of feminine bravery, and for a second, I almost feel empowered.

Until I look into the crowd and see Professor Wallace.

Literature department. Lover of Victorian novels. And my secret crush.

My stomach hits my shoes. Nope. Absolutely not. I pivot, ready to bolt off the stage, but two bouncers step in like they’re guarding the crown jewels.

“Excuse me!” I squeak, trying to push past.

Too late.

A freezing torrent crashes over my head, stealing the air from my lungs. I spin, and the crowd roars like I’ve just scored the winning touchdown. It takes a beat to realize why. I glance down and die a little inside.

My soaked white T-shirt clings like a second skin to my equally white bra, which at this point might as well be invisible. Every dark line, every curve, every hard-peak is on full display under the honkytonk lights.

Cue the horror.

And just when I think it can’t get worse, it does. Like some kind of twisted slow-motion dream, my eyes lock on Professor Wallace’s. His mouth parts slightly. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. Neither do I.

Amber steps in front of me, laughing like we didn’t just wreck my entire GPA. “Damn. Didn’t win. Better luck next time.”

She tosses me a towel, completely unfazed, and we hustle off the stage toward a table where a few of our friends are nursing drinks and bad decisions.

“I’m gonna grab us more shots,” Amber says, vanishing into the crowd.

I start drying off, cheeks still burning. The towel scratches at my pride more than my skin. I’m just about to sit when something prickles along the back of my neck. Heat. Awareness. Like someone just struck a match behind me.

I glance over my shoulder.

And freeze.

The hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life is sitting across the bar like it’s his. One arm slung over the back of a chair, the other resting casually on a thick thigh, fingers playing idly like he's got all the time in the world. And damn if he doesn’t look like sin dipped in sunlight.

His white tank hugs a chest that wasn’t built in a gym, but out of hard work and trouble. His light-washed jeans cling in all the ways that make my brain short circuit. When our eyes meet, he doesn’t smile. He smirks. Slow. Crooked. Dangerous. Like a dare wrapped in whiskey.

I should look away.

I don’t.

Because something about him whispers that if I blink, I’ll miss the moment everything changes.

He stands, eyes still locked on mine and moves through the crowd like gravity parts for him.

Effortless. Confident. The kind of walk that belongs in slow motion with a gritty soundtrack behind it.

By the time he stops in front of me, the entire room feels off kilter like the air pressure just dropped.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and smooth as aged whiskey. “I’m Liam.”

It takes a beat for my brain to catch up. “Olive.”

He smiles, and not the polite, charming kind. This one’s wicked. The kind of smile that could light a fire and walk away while it burns.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” I manage, even though my pulse is a traitor pounding against my ribs.

“Saw you on stage.”

I huff out a nervous laugh, half-snort, half please bury me now. “Yeah… that was definitely not on my college bucket list.”

His eyes drift to the crowd, casual, unreadable. “That redhead you were with—your friend?”

I could point out that I’m also a redhead, but don’t. Amber’s hair is fire engine red only found in a bottle. It demands attention. Mine is more of a strawberry blonde that is easy to ignore.

“Yeah. Amber.”

His smile shifts. Sharper now. Intentional.

“Think you could introduce us when she gets back?”

And there it is. The drop. Like a trapdoor under my feet.

I laugh, but it comes out hollow. Stupid, really, to think he might’ve been looking at me. I school my face into something neutral and force a smile that tastes like regret.

“Sure.”

He gestures toward the empty chairs behind me. “Mind if I sit?”

I shake my head and slide into a seat, towel still clutched in my lap like a thin line of dignity.

“So, Olive,” he says as he settles in beside me, spreading out like he owns the space, “you go to Sheridan?”

I nod. “Yeah. Senior. Business major.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Nice.”

“You?”

He chuckles, low and warm. “Oh, honey, I graduated a long time ago.” That grin returns, full of dangerous edges. “I run Stonewater Rodeo Stock.”

I blink, trying to piece together what that means. I must look completely lost because he bumps my shoulder with his like we’ve known each other for longer than three minutes.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nope.” I shake my head, still feeling the echo of that shoulder nudge. “I’m from Wichita.”

“Well,” he says, eyes twinkling, “welcome to Wyoming, honey.”

And suddenly the bar feels smaller. Warmer. And a hell of a lot more dangerous.

My brain scrambles for something to say, which must be why I blurt out, “How old are you?”

Liam doesn’t miss a beat. “Thirty-four. You?”

“Twenty-four,” I say, wishing I could rewind five seconds and ask literally anything else.

His smile stays easy, relaxed. “And your friend?”

Ugh. There it is again. My mouth stretches into a polite grin, but inside I’m resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I really hope I’m schooling my expression, because irritation is bubbling fast.

“She’s twenty-two.”

He nods, thoughtful. “So, did you have a late start to college?”

I blink at the nerve of this man.

“Something like that,” I mutter, grabbing my beer and taking a longer sip than necessary.

Before I can decide whether to walk away or throw the rest of the beer in his lap, Amber returns, a tray of shots in hand and a sparkle in her eye. Her gaze locks right onto Liam like a heat-seeking missile.

“And who is this handsome devil?”

“Amber, meet Liam. Liam, Amber.” I gesture between them like a flight attendant pointing out the exits. “Liam saw you on stage and just had to meet you.”

No one seems to catch the sarcasm and maybe venom in my voice.

Amber raises an eyebrow, her pageant smile slipping into place like she’s flipping a switch. “Did he now?”

She sets the tray down and offers her hand, glossy lips curved like she already knows he’ll kiss it if she lets him. “Nice to meet you, Liam.”

I lean back slightly, sipping my beer again because I’m suddenly dying to cool down the fire crawling under my skin.

Liam takes Amber’s hand, but his eyes flick to me for half a second before he answers, “Pleasure’s mine.”

Something in his tone has teeth. But I can't tell if he’s being polite or if there’s a whole other game at play here.

I don’t have to wonder long what kind of game this is.

Liam settles it for me when he tugs Amber straight into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She lets out a breathy giggle, her arm looping around his shoulders like they’ve been doing this forever.

I swallow and take an even bigger sip. Why does this always happen to me? The guy I like always goes after her.

“I’m the luckiest guy in this whole bar,” he says, eyes fixed on her like she’s already his.

Amber tilts her head back to look at him, that familiar flirty lilt in her voice. “Oh, really? Tell me more, Liam.”

“I’m sure you’ve been fending off men all night, haven’t you, doll?”

She sighs with exaggerated drama. “It’s exhausting, honestly.”

“Then I’m glad I got here in time to rescue you.” His voice dips lower, smooth as molasses. “Even more glad I’ve got a room at the hotel next door.”

My mouth parts. Did he just…?

I look at Amber, waiting, hoping for a signal that she’ll shut this down. That this is just playful banter, and she’s not actually going to—

“Well, cowboy,” she says, sliding off his lap with a wink in my direction, “this is your lucky night.”

I can’t breathe. My stomach drops so fast it feels like a free fall.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she adds to me with a smirk, already disappearing into the crowd with his hand pressed possessively to her lower back.

“Bye, Olivia,” Liam tosses over his shoulder.

I blink, stunned.

“It’s Olive,” I call after him, too late.

But he doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

I grab one of the shots Amber left behind and toss it back like it's medicine. The liquid scorches a fiery path down my throat, but the burn is almost welcome. Something sharp to cut through the sting in my chest.

“Can this night get any worse?” I mutter under my breath, setting the empty glass down a little too hard.

Apparently, yes. Yes, it absolutely can.

“Ms. Fiegel. A word?”

My head snaps up and I go cold.

Professor Wallace stands in front of me, hands on his hips, the exact stance of a disappointed father who’s just had enough. His expression is unreadable, which is worse than angry. My blood turns to ice.

I scramble to my feet, nearly knocking over the stool. “Professor. This is a surprise.”

“Yes,” he says, his voice smooth and measured in a way that somehow sounds like judgment wrapped in velvet. “There have been a lot of surprises tonight.”

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. All the excuses I might’ve used— “It wasn’t what it looked like,” “I didn’t know you’d be here,” “I lost a bet”—get caught somewhere between my brain and my pride.

Instead, I just stand there, blinking at him like a deer in the world’s most humiliating headlights.

He tilts his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back something. A smile? A scolding? I can’t tell.

“I have to admit,” he says, voice low, “that’s not how I expected to see one of my top students tonight.”

My pulse kicks.

“I—I didn’t plan this,” I stammer. “Amber signed us up. I tried to leave before the water and then there were bouncers and—”

He lifts a hand, cutting off my rambling. “I’m not here to reprimand you, Olive. Off-campus life is yours to live. I’m simply surprised.”

Surprised. Right. But the way his eyes drag down my face, pausing just a second too long at my mouth, says more than surprise. It says he noticed. It says he’s seeing me as more than just a name on a grade sheet.

I shift on my feet, hyperaware of every inch of bare skin, the clinging fabric, the messy cascade of damp hair. And I swear, for a heartbeat, there’s something electric between us. Wrong, inappropriate, but real.

Then—

“Hey, Olivia!” That voice. That smug, shit-eating voice.

I turn just in time to see Liam strolling up, shirt wrinkled, hair a little tousled, like he just stepped out of a GQ cowboy fantasy ruined by the smirk on his face and Amber nowhere in sight.

“Your friend left her purse in your car and needs it,” he says. His eyes flick to Professor Wallace. “Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting something with your dad?”

Professor Wallace straightens ever so slightly, jaw ticking.

“No,” I say quickly, stepping back. “No, not at all.”

Liam’s grin widens. “Didn’t catch your name, man.”

The tension between them tightens like a rope. Wallace gives a polite but chilly nod. “Professor Wallace.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Professor, huh? Well, lucky students.”

“I should go,” I blurt, needing to escape the testosterone, the humiliation, the heat. “Thank you for… um… not failing me.”

Professor Wallace’s gaze lingers on mine a beat longer. “Goodnight, Olive.”

But when I turn to leave, Liam falls into step beside me.

He says low enough that only I can hear, “So, was he gonna lecture you or offer extra credit?”

I stop in my tracks and glare at him. “You’re a jackass.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

And just like that, I wish I’d taken a second shot.

** Present Day**

If I’d known then just how big a part Liam Stone would end up playing in my life, I don’t think I would've told him Amber’s name that night.

He dated her on and off for three years.

The real kicker? He offered me a job not long after that night at the bar, shortly after I graduated. Business manager. A promotion from barroom embarrassment to full-time glutton for punishment.

But Liam Stone doesn’t do anything like a normal person.

Workplace boundaries? Never heard of them.

We spend our days side by side scheduling meetings, managing sponsorships, putting out fires. Then we spend our nights grabbing drinks, talking rodeo politics, laughing over things I probably shouldn’t remember. And all the while, I sit there and watch him pick up woman after woman. Like clockwork.

And I wonder every single time why it’s never me.

Why I’m always just the one he leans on, never the one he wants.

I sigh, the sound thick with the weight of every stolen glance and silent heartache.

I should really find a new job.

But Liam needs me.

So I don’t.