Chapter 20 Liam #2
It’s small. Barely a breath. A closeness measured in inches rather than miles.
The kind of movement someone makes when they aren’t sure if they’re allowed, but want to be near anyway.
The faint brush of his knee against mine anchors me, freezes my lungs in place.
He’s close enough that I can see the pale lashes framing his unfocused eyes, close enough that I can feel the gentle exhale warming the space between our mouths.
It hits me suddenly, painfully:
How long before it all fractures?
Because everything does. It’s the one thing in my life I can rely on, that nothing good lasts long enough to be trusted.
My breath shudders. The ache in my chest tightens, and for one fragile heartbeat, I think, gods help me, that he’s going to touch his forehead to mine. That he’s going to let the moment become the thing we’ve both been drowning under.
His free hand lifts, not toward me, but near me, hovering inches from my cheek as if mapping the warmth of my skin. His fingers tremble ever so slightly, pausing midair as though he’s weighing the consequences of crossing a line neither of us have named.
“I can hear you thinking,” he murmurs, voice low enough to unravel me. “And it feels… loud.”
A quiet, unsteady laugh escapes me, half breath, half confession.
“It’s been a complicated day,” I manage, though the words fall thin.
Theo’s face softens in a way that feels like an unexpected blow. He leans closer still, close enough that if he weren’t blind, he’d see every flicker of confusion running across my face.
“Liam,” he whispers, voice steady but threaded with something unmistakably tender. “I don’t need to see to know when someone is hurting.”
My throat tightens. His words land too deeply, too precisely, like he’s reaching for something I’ve spent years burying beneath walls and training and the need to always be the protector.
His forehead almost touches mine.
Almost.
But the universe never gives us more than an almost.
A soft creak echoes from the stairwell, so delicate most people wouldn’t hear it. But Theo stiffens instantly, head snapping toward the sound, all traces of openness shuttered in a heartbeat.
And I draw back too fast, guilt and fear tangling in my chest. Another fracture. Another moment slipping through my fingers before I can understand it.
Theo’s hand falls away from my wrist, though not completely, his fingertips linger a second longer than necessary, a silent admission he doesn’t say aloud.
“Someone’s coming,” he murmurs, voice suddenly composed again. “We’ll… talk later.”
I nod, even though he can’t see it.
Even though neither of us know what talking later even means.
I hear her before I see her.
A crack of uncontrolled magic ripples through the corridor, sharp enough that my wand vibrates in my palm, sharp enough that Theo’s head snaps toward the doorway as if the air itself called his name. For a second I tell myself it’s impossible, that Harper wouldn’t-
But then she fills the entrance of the observatory like a storm given skin.
Her eyes are burning violet, bright enough that every lantern in the rafters flickers in response. Her jaw is clenched, her breath rapid, her stride so furious she barely seems tethered to the floor. I’ve seen my sister angry, truly angry, but this isn’t anger.
This is something that has been caged too long, finally breaking.
Sebastian follows her in, slightly breathless, confusion still all over his face as if he hasn’t had time to piece together what led her here. He opens his mouth to speak, but Harper doesn’t even acknowledge him. Her stare is locked on me, hollow and wild, like I’m the only thing she can see.
Theo moves toward her, a cautious hand lifted.
“Harper-”
She brushes past him without slowing.
Three strides. That’s all it takes.
Her hand fists the front of my shirt, and before I can even brace myself, she slams me back into the stone wall. The impact sends a bolt of pain up my spine, but it’s nothing compared to the look on her face, betrayal, terror, rage… and underneath all of it, hurt so deep I flinch from it.
Her fingers grip my jaw, forcing my face toward hers. Her breath fans across my lips, shaking with fury.
“Who told you,” she whispers, no, breathes, like a curse being summoned,
“you could take my memories?”
The world stops.
Theo freezes. Even the lantern glow seems to hold its breath. For a heartbeat, it’s just her hands on me, her magic vibrating through my bones, her eyes, our mother’s eyes, shining like twin fractures in the universe.
I want to tell her I’m sorry. I want to tell her I didn’t have a choice.
But shame hits me first.
My gaze pulls, not toward her, but to the doorway.
To Sebastian.
His brows knit in confusion, mouth parted as if he’s trying to put together a puzzle he didn’t know existed. He looks at me the way someone looks at a reflection they don’t recognize.
Harper notices.
Her grip tightens until my jaw aches, until I’m forced to look at him fully. “Look at him,” she spits. “Look at what you did.”
A piercing eruption of pain hits the center of my skull, so sharp it nearly buckles my knees. My vision blurs. I clutch for the wall to keep from collapsing as memories, no, shattered pieces of memories, press themselves violently into place.
She doesn’t see it.
She doesn’t see what it costs me.
A thought, not my own voice but mine all the same, claws its way out of the dark corners of my mind.
The pressure becomes unbearable. The thought slams forward until my mouth is speaking before I can stop it.
“You just had to go and fall in love with her again.”
The words echo through the room like a spell gone wrong.
Theo’s breath catches.
Harper stares at me as if I’ve just carved her open.
But Sebastian-
Sebastian looks as if the ground has dropped out beneath him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. His expression turns hollow, shocked… haunted.
I feel sick.
Harper’s hand slips from my shirt. Her whole body goes still, the kind of stillness that isn’t calm but devastation disguised as silence. Her violet glow sputters, dimming like a lantern running out of oil.
She turns her head slowly, mechanically, toward Sebastian.
And he stares back at her with an expression that tells me, even he doesn’t understand why what I said just hurt him.
My pulse hammers. My breath is thin.
Because I know something neither of them do.
How long before it all fractures once again?
Harper looks like she’s about to crumble.
Sebastian looks like he already has.
And I, I’ve never felt farther from saving either of them.