Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Liam
Stag & Lantern was packed for a Thursday night. It had me bouncing between the bar and the floor, pouring drinks, flashing grins, throwing out just enough flirtation to keep my regulars happy without giving them too much. The music was low enough to keep conversation at a steady roar.
Callie and Sam were perched on their usual barstools near the far end, half-turned toward each other.
Callie had a half-finished whiskey sour in front of them, gesturing with one hand while the other hovered protectively over a stack of paint swatches and tile samples.
Sam was sipping his whiskey, eyebrows drawn together in that classic teacher-concentration face, nodding along.
“You’re really cutting it close,” Sam said with a grin I could see even from across the bar. “Didn’t you say you wanted it done before David gets here?”
Callie waved a dismissive hand. “I said that, yeah, but we all know I thrive under last-minute pressure. He’s not coming till next Friday, anyway, and I can’t wait for you two to meet him. He’s gonna love this place. And you.”
“I already love him,” Sam said, mock-solemn. “Based solely on the text you showed me where he roasted that influencer for using the wrong shade of grout.”
“Iconic,” Callie agreed.
I didn’t think much of it at first. Sam and Callie had their own friendship, their own catty back-and-forth, and most of the time, I wasn’t exactly in the habit of eavesdropping.
But then my name slipped through the noise, and my pulse skipped.
They were talking about me. I shouldn’t have cared.
But the more I lingered near them, refilling drinks, wiping down the counter, making myself look busy, the more I caught.
“He doesn’t do relationships, Sam. He barely acknowledges what’s happening between you two.”
Sam’s voice was quieter. Measured. “I know.”
Callie sighed. “Then what the hell are you waiting for?”
My chest tightened.
I knew what they were talking about.
I knew they were talking about me and Sam. About Cedar Hollow. About the way things had shifted. About the fact that I still didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus on something else, anything else, but the words were right there.
I grabbed a bar towel and started wiping a section of counter that was already clean. Then I switched to lining up the bitters bottles. Then I checked the tap handles. Then I realized I’d left a whiskey sour half-made at the service well.
Too many sounds. Too many voices. The bass from the speakers thudded against my ribs, glassware chimed behind me, someone laughed too loud near the dartboard.
It all started stacking, one on top of the other, until my skin felt too tight and my thoughts wouldn’t land on any one thing long enough to hold.
I just needed a second. A breath. Something solid.
Callie kept going, voice softer now. “He isn’t gonna be the one to have the big realization, babe. That’s not how he works.”
A humorless laugh. “Yeah. I figured that out already.”
And for some reason, that stupid, resigned little sentence was what sent me over the edge.
I slammed a glass onto the counter harder than I meant to, cutting them both off as I stalked over, yanking my apron over my head and tossing it onto the bar.
“What the hell is this?”
I demanded, eyes blazing between the two of them.
Callie’s brows lifted. “Liam—”
“No. You wanna talk about me, Callie? At my fucking bar? At least have the decency to include me in the conversation.”
Sam stiffened. “Liam, come on—”
I let out a loud laugh, shaking my head. “No, by all means, continue. Keep dissecting my personal shit like I’m not standing right fucking here.”
Callie deflected, shoulders slumping. “That’s not…that’s not what we were doing.”
“Really? Because it sure as hell sounded like it.” My voice was loud.
Sharp enough that a couple of heads turned.
I didn’t care. “You think I don’t know how this goes?
I’ve seen what you two can do. Look at Noah and Evan.
You’re telling Sam I’m never gonna be what he wants, right? That I’m just stringing him along?”
Callie held my gaze.
“Are you?”
The question knocked the breath from my lungs.
I looked at Sam, waiting for him to do something. To stop this. To tell Callie to back off.
But he didn’t.
He just looked at me, lips parted and eyes too damn readable. I realized he was waiting for an answer too.
I shook my head and stepped back. “Fuck this.”
Then I turned on my heel, pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen and straight out the back entrance, into the night.
The back alley was cold. Havenwood had finally surrendered to October, and the temperature had dropped quickly that week.
It was crisp enough that I could see my breath curling in the dim glow of the streetlamp above.
The smell of wet pavement and distant cigarette smoke filled the space, but my mind wasn’t on any of it.
My pulse was still pounding, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, anger burning hot in my stomach.
What the fuck was that?
I braced my hands on my knees, sucking in a breath, trying to steady myself.
Then the door swung open behind me.
I knew who it was before I even turned.
Sam.
His footsteps were quick, each one hitting the pavement with purpose. He wasn’t hesitating.
“What the fuck was that?”
His voice was strong, demanding, leaving no room for deflection.
I exhaled hard, straightening but not turning to face him yet. “Not now, Sam.”
His answer came fast. “Then when?”
I clenched my jaw, still staring at the dark pavement. “Sam…”
“No.” His breath came visible between us in the chill night air. “What the fuck, Liam?”
I finally turned. His expression was stormy, shoulders tense, hands balled at his sides like he was physically holding himself back from shaking me.
I ran a hand over my face, trying to push past the tension crackling between us. “Look, I—”
“What are we doing, Liam?” His voice was raw, frustrated, like he’d been holding this in for weeks. Like he was done holding it in. “Because I’m so fucking tired of pretending like this is nothing when it’s obviously… ” He sighed, shaking his head. “Just tell me what we’re doing.”
I swallowed hard, meeting his eyes.
For the first time, I told the truth.
“I don’t know.”
Sam’s jaw tightened, his breath coming harder now.
I forced myself to keep going, even though I hated the words as soon as I said them.
“I never thought of you like that,” I admitted, my voice rough. “You’re my friend.”
Something passed in his eyes. Something sharp.
“Oh, fuck you, Liam!” His voice cracked with it, raw and furious.
“I was your friend. And then you held my hand. You kissed me. You climbed into my bed. You fucked me. You let me believe it meant something. You don’t get to do all of that and then look me in the eye and tell me I’m just your friend. ”
He shook his head, eyes burning. “You don’t get to rewrite what you did just because you’re scared.”
I sucked in a breath.
The cold air pressed in around us, but my body was burning.
I opened my mouth. To say what? I didn’t even fucking know. But Sam wasn’t done.
His voice dropped, steadier now, but no less intense. “I can handle a lot, Liam. But what I can’t handle is you acting like none of it happened.”
“I’m not—”
“You are!” he shot back, stepping closer, his eyes burning into mine.
“You’re standing here trying to convince yourself that none of this means anything.
That we don’t mean anything.” His voice dropped, almost a whisper now.
“And maybe that’s easier for you. Maybe you can shove it down and pretend like nothing’s changed. But I can’t.”
My chest tightened.
Fuck.
I should have had a response.
I should have.
But all I could think about was how right he was.
Because I had kissed him. I had wanted him.
I still fucking wanted him.
But if I admitted that?
If I let myself go there?
Then I couldn’t take it back.
Then I couldn’t run.
And I had never let myself want someone like this.
Never let myself risk it.
Never let myself fall.
Sam scoffed at my silence, shaking his head, backing up a step like he was about to walk away. Like he was about to leave.
No.
I grabbed him and then I kissed him.
Desperate.
He responded immediately.
Then, just as fast, he shoved me away.
Hard.
I stumbled back, my breath hitching, the sharp sting of rejection in my chest.
“No.” His voice was harsh, full of something furious, something wounded. “You don’t get to do that, Liam.”
His chest rose and fell fast, his eyes burning into me in the dim alley light.
“You don’t get to kiss me and avoid talking to me,” he snapped.
My stomach twisted.
“Sam—”
“No,” he cut me off, voice firm, steady. “You don’t get to jerk me around. You don’t get to push me away one second and pull me back in the next. You don’t get to keep manipulating me. What do you want, Liam?”
His voice cracked slightly, and it fucking wrecked me.
“Because I know what I want.”
I swallowed, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“I want you.” His words came fast, raw, real.
“I want to give this a try. I want to know where we stand. And as much as it might fucking hurt, if you tell me you don’t want that?
At least I’ll know. At least I can figure out how to move on.
But stringing me along?” He shook his head.
“Keeping me at your beck and call like I’m one of your fucking cell phone boyfriends on Rogue? That doesn’t work for me.”
I flinched.
Because fuck. He wasn’t wrong.
And hearing it out loud made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world.
“I… ” I started, but the words died in my throat.
Sam laughed, but there was nothing amused about it. It was brittle. Tired.
“Why don’t you date?” he pressed. “Why don’t you ever let anything be real? Why is it always fucking and flirting and disappearing the second someone wants more?”
I opened my mouth again. Closed it.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“Why don’t you commit to anyone, Liam Carter?” he asked quietly. “Why don’t you let yourself love someone?”
That word hit like a punch.
Love.
“You know what kills me?” he continued, voice rough now. “I know you’re capable of it. I’ve seen you take care of people. I’ve seen the way you show up when it matters. I’ve seen how loyal you are to your friends. So don’t tell me you’re broken. Don’t tell me you’re incapable.”
He shook his head, eyes shining, jaw clenched like he was holding himself together by sheer force.
“So why can’t you admit there’s something here?” he demanded. “Why can’t you just say it out loud?”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why do you keep me in the friend zone,” he said, the word bitter, “when you touch me like that, look at me like that, fuck me like that?”
Each word landed harder than the last.
“I don’t want to be another almost,” he said. “Another fun night. Another story you laugh about later. I’m not asking you to promise me forever. I’m asking you to stop pretending this doesn’t matter.”
He took a shaky breath.
“I’m standing here telling you exactly what I want,” he said. “And if you can’t meet me there, fine. I’ll survive it. But I will not keep shrinking myself to fit into whatever half-thing you’re ok with.”
Silence swallowed us.
I had spent years believing I was good at this. At charm. At control. At keeping things light.
But Sam wasn’t playing.
I realized I was standing in front of someone who wasn’t afraid to ask me for everything.
And I had no idea if I was brave enough to give it.
Or maybe I did.
I didn’t fucking know.
Maybe I was just too much of a coward to say it.
Sam let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what I thought.”
Then, before I could stop him and fix it, he turned and walked back inside, leaving me standing in the cold, breathless, heart beating, chest fucking aching.
And for the first time, I felt something I couldn’t run from.
I was losing him.
And I had no one to blame but myself.