3. Liam
3
LIAM
The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee drags me out of my room and into the kitchen. I rub the sleep from my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts from last night. As soon as I step into the room, the familiar, comforting smell of my dad's cooking becomes stronger, assaulting my senses.
It’s almost like I’ve stepped into a time machine, transporting me back to those Saturday mornings when I’d race down the stairs to find my parents laughing and chatting over breakfast. Then all the joy had shattered into dust.
I grit my teeth, pushing those memories aside. They’re only ghosts now, remnants of a happier time that throb in my head with a dull ache.
“Liam,” Dad greets, looking up from the stove with a warm smile. “You okay, son?”
I stretch, forcing a lazy smile. “Yeah, just a bit of a restless night.”
Dad frowns, concern etched into his features. “Are you sure you’re comfortable in that room? I can change the beddings or?—”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand, grabbing a large bowl from the counter and placing it on the table. I snatch a carrot, munching on it absentmindedly. “I’m fine, Dad. Just getting used to the new room, that’s all.”
In reality, it’s a lie. The real reason I couldn’t sleep is Emma Cole. Her fiery auburn hair and those piercing green eyes haunted me all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
My body heats up, reliving the sensation of her soft body against mine. I’m going to be in so much fucking trouble with Emma Cole. She is a force of nature, a whirlwind of fiery hair and even fiercer resolve that melts my brain and hardens my dick.
Jesus Christ. Just the thought of the woman has my groin stirring again. After our two-night stand, I’d suffered for weeks, teaching myself not to think about her. I abandoned the apartment I took her to and actually had to stop hooking up altogether because every moment of every sex I had immediately after her reminded me of her. ‘
And just like that, she’s here in the town I’ll be spending the next month in. And this would be worse than the first time we met. This isn’t New York where I can run away from her. She’ll be in my face constantly here, and that only means one thing…trouble.
A part of me is intrigued. Enamored by the way she wrung the proof that I remembered her out of me. The other part is scared. Emma Cole may look the part, but she’s no gentle, forgiving princess. She hates me, and she proved that yesterday.
The rest of the dinner after our situation in the cellar had been unbearable. She threw verbal jabs at me all night until I finally called a retreat before Damon caught on to the undercurrent of tension.
She’s not the type to avoid confrontation, and yesterday was a challenge.
The biggest mistake I made was thinking she’d be timid and deny knowing me or pretend it never happened. She’s proving to be more formidable than I expected.
“Liam,” Dad’s voice pulls me back to the present. “What are you musing about?”
“Nothing special,” I mumble quickly, but his skeptical look tells me he doesn’t buy it. “Let’s eat before breakfast gets cold.”
I set the table, arranging plates and utensils while Dad finishes up at the stove. He’s still eyeing me like he’s trying to read my mind. I know he worries, especially since I haven’t been home in so long.
As we sit down, he pours coffee into our mugs. “So, how’s it feel to be back in Harmony Creek?”
I take a sip, the bitter liquid jolting me awake. “It’s...different. Same old town, but it feels different.”
He nods, understanding. “It’s been a while. The town’s changed a bit, but not much. Still the same place where everyone knows everyone’s business.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”
Dad’s gaze turns thoughtful. “And how’s Damon? Must be nice to catch up with him.”
“Yeah, it is,” I nod, my mind drifting back to yesterday. “He’s doing well, busy with the garage and the wedding plans.”
Dad smiles, pride in his eyes. “Good man, Damon. Always knew he’d make something of himself. And what about you? How’s life in New York?”
“Busy.” I shrug, keeping it vague. “Work’s demanding, but it’s rewarding.”
The clink of Dad's fork against his plate fills the comfortable silence of breakfast. He clears his throat, a hesitant look in his eyes.
“So, Liam, is there anyone special in your life right now?”
I choke on a mouthful of scrambled eggs, hacking out a cough as I reach for my glass of water. “No, Dad,” I manage between coughs, wiping my eyes. “There's no one.”
He studies me for a long moment, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Maybe that's a good thing,” he mumbles with a sigh. “Half my patients these days seem to have single daughters or nieces, and they all seem to think I have some sort of magic matchmaking power.”
I shake my head, forcing a smile. “No matchmaking needed, Dad. I'm good.”
He shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, alright. But don't blame me if I decide to go ahead with it. You might want to change your mind because I know a few lovely girls who would be happy to meet a handsome young doctor like you.”
“Dad,” I sigh, exasperation creeping into my voice. “You really don't have to do that.”
“Nonsense,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “This is the least I can do, considering you're taking a whole month off work to be here. I don't know when I'll get another chance to have my son over for this long.”
A pang of guilt stabs at me, but I push it down. “Dad, I appreciate it,” I say, my voice sincere, “but I'd rather spend the time focusing on helping out at the hospital and with Damon's wedding. You know, best man duties and all.”
He gives me a skeptical look. “Damon's wedding, huh? Speaking of love, there's your perfect example, Liam. You need to take a leaf out of his book, son. Find someone special, fall in love, enjoy life.”
My jaw clenches. Of course, he wouldn't listen. Stubborn as a mule, that's what Dad is. “This meddling again, Dad?” My voice is tight with anger. “Is this your way of easing your guilt or something?”
He mumbles something under his breath, avoiding my gaze. “I just want you to be happy, Liam.”
“So, you think I haven't been happy?” I scoff. “Is that it? You're convinced somehow that I've lived some horrible, miserable life that’s your fault and if you just help 'clean up' everything, then suddenly everything will be alright?”
The silence that stretches between us is thick and suffocating. Dad just stares at me, his face etched with hurt. It only fuels my anger.
“I don't need your help, Dad,” I try to keep my voice from rising, but I fail. “Leave me alone. Let me live my own life.”
He flinches like I'd slapped him, his eyes widening in shock. “Liam—“ he begins, his voice cracking.
“No,” I cut him off, my voice laced with a bitterness I hate. “I don't need you. Don't you get it?”
The pain in his eyes mirrors the ache in my own heart. “You deserve to find someone you love, Liam,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
I slam my fork down on the table, the clatter echoing through the room. “What use is love if it just leads to heartbreak in the end?” I yell the question. It’s a raw scream from the depths of my soul. “Don't you get it, Dad? I waited for years, hoping things would work out between you two. I prayed, made wishes on birthdays, wrote stupid letters to Santa Claus even though I never believed in him, wishing for a happy family Christmas morning. And what did I get? Nothing!”
“Liam–”
The sound of his broken voice makes my chest tighten. I heave in a couple of breaths, struggling to drag air through my lungs.
“Just please,” I plead, my voice thick with emotion. “Let me enjoy my time here in peace. Let me be here for Damon, that's all I ask.”
Dad opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off again.
“No buts, Dad,” I declare, my voice firm. “This conversation is over.”
I push myself away from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. I can't stay there any longer, not with the raw emotions churning inside me. Without another word, I storm out of the kitchen, the slam of the back door echoing behind me like a punctuation mark to the argument.
I storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me. The cool morning air hits my face, but it does little to cool my anger. My father and I always end up in these arguments, no matter how hard I try to avoid them. He means well, I know that, but he doesn’t understand.
I walk aimlessly, trying to calm down. I need to clear my head, to think rationally. My father is just trying to help, and I should be more understanding. But it’s hard when every conversation feels like he’s trying to fix me like I’m some broken toy.
As I walk, my stomach growls, reminding me that I left the table without finishing breakfast. I’m not ready to face my father again, so I decide to find something to eat elsewhere. After a few more minutes of walking, I spot a small grocery store, FreshOne Grocery. It’s as good a place as any to grab a snack.
I push open the door and step inside. The store is quaint, with a strange personal touch in the decor—handwritten signs, mismatched shelves, and a friendly chaos that feels oddly welcoming. It’s busier than I expected for a small town, and I nod at a couple of patrons as I head to the edibles section.
As I approach, I stop in my tracks. Standing by the cake display is Emma Cole. Great. Just what I need. My shoulders tense as I debate turning around and leaving. But my stomach rumbles again, and I realize I can’t keep avoiding her.
Emma is focused on a piece of cake, turning it over in her hands. She looks oddly intent, like she’s trying to decipher some hidden message in the frosting. Part of me is curious about what she’s thinking, but I tamp it down. I don’t need more complications this morning.
I hope she doesn’t notice me, but my luck has been particularly bad today. She looks up, and our eyes meet. Her expression shifts to one of irritation.
“Oh, perfect,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I smelled something rotten, and it’s right here.”
Her words send a prickle up my spine, and I clench my fists. I should walk away, but I can’t stop myself from responding. “I’m not in the mood for childish games this morning.”
She snaps back, “You’re the one crashing my morning.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. “I thought you were a Cole? The name on the store is FreshOne, so maybe you’re in the wrong place.”
She crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not surprised you can’t understand a simple analogy. Let me dumb it down for you. I was here first. You should step out until I’m done.”
I take a step toward her, my teeth gritting in anger. “Do you think the world revolves around you?”
“This is my world, my town,” she retorts. “And just like you were a coward who couldn’t face the consequences of your actions and asked me to leave your house, this is my territory. You’d better leave if you know what’s good for you.”
I take another step closer, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “Damon invited me here, and I’m going nowhere until I’m done. So, bring on whatever you have in store for me, sweetheart.”
Her eyes flare with anger, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “I’m just here to get a snack, Emma. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”
She glares at me, her fists clenched at her sides. “You think you can just waltz back into town, and everything will be fine? You think you can avoid facing what you did?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” she shoots back. “You’re still the same coward who kicked me out of his house.”
Her words sting, but I keep my expression neutral. “You don’t know the whole story.”
She snorts. “I know enough. And I know you’re not the kind of person I want around my brother.”
I feel a flash of anger, but I force myself to stay calm. “Damon is my friend. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Fine,” she says, her voice cold. “But don’t think for a second that I’m going to make this easy for you.”
I nod, accepting the challenge. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, sweetheart.”
“You’re the kind of vermin I wouldn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.”
“Really?” I cock my head to the side. “Because you touched me at a distance lot shorter than that yesterday.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve been called that.” I let a mocking smile spread across my lips. “I prefer dick, personally. It reflects what’s going on in your mind a bit more.”
She looks mad enough to grab something heavy off the cart and hurl it at my head, and at the same time, for some crazy reason, she looks incredibly sexy. Face flushed, red hair disheveled and bouncing around her shoulder, lips pursed straight at me.
What would she do if I grabbed her against the wall and kissed her right here?
Probably drive her knee into my crotch or maybe kiss me back. I’m not sure I want to risk the reaction the anger in her eyes will bring, though.
Emma Cole brings me a kind of challenge I’m not sure I’m ready for. But it keeps me excited. She gapes at me with the maddest set of green eyes I’ve ever seen. The section is suddenly filled with a leaden silence.