Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Liam
Coming back from Cedar Hollow, everything slipped back into place, at least, that’s what I told myself.
The town was the same. The late summer air still clung, thick and lazy over Havenwood, stretching long into the evenings. The Green Bean Café still hummed with morning chatter. Stag & Lantern still buzzed with the familiar cadence of regulars.
And Sam?
Sam was still Sam.
He still showed up at my bar. Still took his usual stool. Still sipped his whiskey slow while half-listening to whatever debate Callie and Renzo had going at the other end of the counter.
Everything was the same.
That’s what I told myself.
Because if I didn’t. If I let myself linger on what had actually happened at Cedar Hollow, on what it meant. I’d start asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
So I slipped back into my usual ways.
Flirting came naturally. It always had. It was instinct, muscle memory. A wink here, a flirty comment there. A hand on a waist that wasn’t Sam’s. A laugh that wasn’t just for him. I went back to the rhythm of things, back to the habit of it all.
And it worked.
At least, I thought it did.
But then Jordan started showing up with Sam.
Not in a weird way. There was nothing between them. But they’d gotten close after the trip, hanging out more, catching drinks together before swinging by Stag & Lantern, pulling up stools and chatting like they’d been friends for years.
Jordan was easy to like.
Funny, quick with a joke, always looking for the next adventure. He’d fit into the group like he’d always belonged, and I couldn’t even be mad about it. Sam didn’t treat him like a threat. Because he wasn’t one. Not really.
So why the fuck was I noticing?
Why did I catch myself clocking the way they laughed together? The way Jordan nudged his shoulder? The way Sam smirked back at him like they had an inside joke I wasn’t part of?
It didn’t mean anything.
It wasn’t like I had a claim on him.
Right?
It didn’t go unnoticed that Sam was coming to Stag & Lantern more often.
Callie clocked it first.
“Did Sam get a second job as your quality control expert, or is he just in love with the way you pour whiskey?” they asked, elbow propped on the bar as Sam walked in like he fucking owned the place.
I poured a drink. “Maybe he just likes the atmosphere.”
Callie snorted. “Sure. And maybe I’m straight.”
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t argue.
Because yeah, Sam was here a lot.
And when he wasn’t? I felt it.
I clocked the empty seat at the bar. I heard when his laugh wasn’t mixing with the noise of the place. I noted when I missed him.
Fuck.
I missed him.
It happened on a slow Tuesday night. The kind where time stretched out in lazy increments. The bar was mostly empty except for a few stragglers finishing their drinks.
Sam had come in late, claiming he just wanted one drink before heading home.
I started to tell him about a new craft beer I’d been thinking of adding to the tap list, something hazy and citrus-forward from a small brewery upstate. I got halfway through the description, paused, blinked once like the thought slipped sideways, then shook my head with a soft laugh.
“Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”
Sam lifted a brow. “You sure?”
“Yep,” I said easily, waving it off, “already moved on.”
But now, Sam’s glass was nearly empty, fingers tracing slow circles along the rim, eyes half-lidded.
I leaned against the counter, studying him. “You good?”
His eyes flicked up to mine.
A beat.
Then, he nodded. “Yeah.”
But he didn’t look away.
Neither did I.
And for a moment, one long, drawn-out, aching moment, I felt it.
The shift.
The air between us turned thick, heavy.
The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.
The way his fingers twitched against the glass, like he wanted to reach for something.
Like he wanted to reach for me.
I could have kissed him.
Fuck, I wanted to.
I could have leaned in, closed the space between us, let my mouth find his like it had in Cedar Hollow, let myself get lost in the warmth of him, in the quiet hum of the bar, in the way everything faded when we were this close.
But I didn’t.
Because just as I started to move, Sam pulled back.
Just barely.
Just enough.
And that was all it took.
The moment passed.
I exhaled, pushing off the counter. “Need another?”
Sam blinked, then shook his head, clearing his throat. “Nah. I should head home.”
He slid off the stool, tossing a few bills on the bar.
And as he walked out the door, I leaned against the counter, staring after him, my chest tight.
Because I should have let it happen.
But I didn’t.
And I had no fucking clue why.