Chapter 8
After making sure the kittens are tucked safely away in the barn with fresh food and water, Liam and I wash up and head for his truck after he changes into jeans and a t-shirt.
The rain has eased into a soft drizzle, misting the windshield as we pull out of the drive and head into Broken Heart Creek.
I pull up the notes app on my phone, fingers tapping quickly as Liam drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console.
“Okay,” I say, scrolling through our list. “We’ve got the dinner tonight, the appearance at the rodeo next week, the BBQ fundraiser after that, then two weeks at Teddy’s place in Texas.” I glance over at him. “Am I missing anything?”
Liam shakes his head, eyes on the road. “Nope. That’s it.”
“So, in theory…” I chew my lip, double-checking the calendar, “we should have this deal wrapped up within a month or so.”
“Yeah,” he says.
But something about the way he says it, flat, almost distracted, makes me lower my phone and turn to look at him.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
He keeps his gaze on the road, but I catch the slight sigh he tries to hide. “Of course I am.”
A beat of silence.
Then, more quietly, “Just worried it still won’t be good enough to land the deal.”
Understanding hits me low and hard. It’s not just about business. It never is with Liam. He’s worried he’ll be judged for who he is. Again. That no matter how hard he works, how much he builds, it’ll never outweigh the shadow he’s been living in his whole life.
Sam Stone’s golden reputation. And more than that. The constant, cutting voice of his father.
I’ve only met Carl Stone a handful of times.
It was enough.
The man carries his disappointment around like a weapon, sharp and ready, always pointed squarely at Liam. Never mind that Liam has built Stonewater Rodeo Stock into a thriving business after Carl nearly ran it into the ground. Never mind that Liam’s loyal and hardworking and good when Carl isn’t.
It’s never enough for a man who only sees flaws where he should see pride.
My chest aches with the sudden, fierce urge to protect him.
To tell him he’s already more than enough.
That he always has been. Instead, I reach out without thinking and lay my hand gently over his.
Just a small touch. A quiet reminder. He glances at me, his mouth curving into a small, almost shy smile.
“Even if we don’t land this deal,” I say, squeezing his hand gently, “we’ll find someone else to partner with. We always do.”
Liam glances over, his mouth tilting into a soft smile.
“You always do,” he corrects, turning his hand so his fingers lace through mine without hesitation.
My chest tightens in the best way.
“We do,” I correct firmly, meeting his gaze.
We share a smile that sends my stomach into a series of wild, giddy flips just as we pull into town.
The rain has eased into a misty drizzle, turning the streets slick and shiny. We park in front of Knot and Spur, the small-town general store that's also a bar, and a gossip mill all rolled into one.
As soon as we step inside, we’re met with chaos. Sherry and her husband, Buck, are full-on yelling at each other near the bar.
Liam freezes, eyebrows shooting up. He leans closer to me and mutters, “What in the heck is going on?”
I press my lips together to hide my laugh. “I’ll tell you when we leave,” I whisper back.
He grabs a shopping basket with exaggerated calm, like we’re not about to witness a domestic soap opera unraveling five feet away.
We hurry through the store, grabbing what we need. Ground beef, potatoes, spices. But no matter how fast we move, we can still hear every single word of their argument.
“Are you sleeping with her, Buck? Is that what’s going on?” Sherry yells, her voice ringing off the walls.
“Hell no,” Buck barks back. “Why would you even think that?”
“Because of the way she took off when I stormed into Lura’s this morning! If it was innocent, then why’d she take off like the hounds of hell were after her?”
Liam shoots me a look, lips parted, eyes wide, like he’s dying to know the backstory.
I mouth later as we round into the next aisle.
Then we hear the slam. Buck’s hand cracking against the bar top so loud it makes the whole store flinch.
“That’s because you’re a demon!” Buck bellows. “Now listen here, woman, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”
“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Sherry screeches.
Crash. The sharp sound of glass shattering ricochets through the store. I whip around to see Sherry hurling bottles off a nearby display like she’s in the final round of a demolition derby. Another crash And another.
“Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath, clutching the shopping basket like a shield. “We have to hurry.”
Liam is grinning, his whole face lit up like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all year.
“Quick,” he says, voice low and laughing, “get the lettuce. I'll get the wine. We'll meet at the register and pray we don't get caught in the crossfire.”
And somehow, through the yelling and the chaos, our hands brush again as we split up, and it feels exactly like the start of something wild and unstoppable.
We move fast. Liam grabbing the last of the groceries while I speed-walk to the register, weaving between shelves like we’re contestants on a game show. Behind us, another crash echoes through the store, followed by a colorful string of language that would make a sailor blush.
I reach the checkout counter first, dumping the basket onto the belt just as the poor cashier, a kid who looks about twelve even though I know he’s closer to twenty, is definitely rethinking his life choices, gives me a wide-eyed, panicked look.
“Rough day?” I say sympathetically, loading cans onto the conveyor.
The kid just nods, robotically scanning items while keeping one terrified eye on the melee behind me. Liam skids up a second later, dumping an armload of items into the mix.
“Go, go, go,” he stage-whispers like we’re making a prison break.
We both fumble for our wallets at the same time, our fingers bumping, and it would be cute if it wasn’t for the thud that shakes the wall behind us.
“I’m filing for divorce!” Sherry shrieks somewhere near the frozen foods.
“Please do,” Buck growls.
I shove a credit card at the cashier, who looks like he’s about to either cry or sprint out the back door.
Liam grabs the bags as soon as they’re packed, practically throwing one over his shoulder like a sack of feed.
“Move!” he laughs under his breath.
We sprint toward the exit, dodging a flying salt shaker that Sherry hurls past Buck’s head.
Just as we burst through the doors, Liam holds it open with a theatrical bow. “After you, honey.”
I duck under his arm, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. By the time we make it back to the truck, we’re breathless and soaked in misty rain, clutching the groceries like trophies. Inside the cab, Liam slams the door shut, then turns to me with a grin so wide and boyish it nearly floors me.
“Well,” he says, catching his breath. “That’s one hell of a second date story.”
I laugh, cheeks aching, heart hammering for a million reasons that have nothing to do with flying salt shakers.
“Third date’s going to have a hard time topping it,” I tease.
He flashes me a look full of heat and something deeper and says, “Guess we better make it a good one, then.” Then he grins, nudging my shoulder lightly. “Now tell me what in the hell that was all about.”
I laugh shakily, the remnants of adrenaline still humming in my veins. “Let’s do it over food. I’m starved after all that drama and Lura’s making chicken fried chicken for lunch.”
His eyes light up. “Say less,” he says, tossing the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking spot, heading down the familiar stretch toward the café.
But the second we round the corner and Lura’s Porch comes into view, everything inside me stills.
My lips part, but no sound comes out.
Because standing outside the café is the volunteer fire chief, his hat clutched in his hands, face grave. And gathered around him, a cluster of Lura’s friends. Women I know. Women who’ve loved and laughed and gossiped with Lura for years.
And they’re crying. Openly, shamelessly. The kind of crying you don't do unless something truly terrible has happened.
I’m unbuckling before the truck even stops, flinging the door open, feet hitting the pavement hard as I sprint toward them.
“What happened?” I demand, heart hammering so hard it feels like it might crack open my ribs.
Ruby steps forward, face streaked with tears. She grabs my hands in hers, squeezing tight like she’s afraid I’ll slip right through her fingers.
“It was terrible, Olive,” she says, her voice shaking. “One minute she was cracking a joke and making us laugh like always and the next…” Her voice breaks. “She was just gone.”
Behind her, the others cry harder, their grief a raw, keening sound that cuts through the damp, heavy air.
I stand there, frozen. The words don't make sense. Gone? But she was fine. She was laughing. She was there this morning, handing me bread and teasing me about dating. She showed me how to make cobbler! And now this?
Gone?
No.
No!
A warm hand curls around my waist, pulling me back to solid ground before I can drift away into the numb, yawning horror swallowing me whole.
I look up into Liam’s face, blurred by the sting of unshed tears and shake my head, desperate for him to explain it, fix it, make it go away.
“How?” My voice cracks in two. “She was fine when I left this morning. She was fine, Liam.”
He draws me closer, tucking me into his chest, his hand stroking slow, steady lines down my back.
“I know, honey,” he says, voice low and thick with sorrow. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
And standing there in the fading light, surrounded by the people who loved her most, I realize the place that’s always felt like home has a hole in it now. A hole that nothing will ever be able to fill.
The grief presses in from all sides. Ruby’s broken sobs, the muffled crying of the others, the low murmurs of disbelief and it’s too much.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I can’t move.
Liam must sense it because his arm tightens around me, steady and sure.
“Come on, honey,” he murmurs against my hair. “Come with me.”
I let him lead me, my body moving on instinct, trusting him the way I always have.
He pulls me away from the crowd, down the side of the building, where the noise fades into a dull roar behind us. The rain has started again, a soft mist that clings to my skin, but I barely feel it.
Liam stops under the awning, out of sight, out of reach, and turns to face me.
For a second, I just stand there, staring up at him, my hands hanging uselessly at my sides.
Then I crumble.
It’s not a graceful fall. It's not a cinematic single tear.
It’s a collapse. Messy, broken, real.
I bury my face in his chest and sob; the sound tearing out of me raw and helpless. Liam wraps me up tight, both arms around me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other anchoring me to him. He doesn't shush me. He doesn't tell me it’ll be okay. He just holds me. Solid. Steady. Quiet.
Letting me fall apart in the only way I know how. With everything I have.
I don’t know how long we stand there. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.
Eventually, the fire chief rounds the corner, his hat still clutched in his hands, his face lined with sympathy.
I pull back slightly from Liam, scrubbing at my face with trembling hands, trying to pull myself together.
“Olive,” the chief says gently. “I’m real sorry, sweetheart. But I need to tell you something.”
My heart lurches.
“What is it?”
“There was a gas leak inside the building,” he says, voice soft. “We think maybe that’s what triggered everything. Maybe she didn’t even know it happened.”
I nod, throat too tight to speak.
“But because of it you can’t stay there. It’s not safe.”
The words hit like another blow, stealing the air right out of my lungs. Lura’s gone. And now so is my home.
For a second, I just sway there, stunned.
Liam's hand tightens on my back.
He leans down, voice low and sure against my ear.
“You're coming home with me,” he says. No hesitation. No question.
The one solid thing I have left.
The chief shifts on his feet, hat twisting between his hands. His voice is gentle but steady when he says, “I can run up and grab some things for you. Is there anything you need?”
I swipe at my cheeks, trying and failing to steady myself.
“A change of clothes,” I croak out. “Something nice, too. We have a work dinner tomorrow.”
My voice breaks halfway through the sentence, splintering the last fragile bit of composure I have left.
I blink hard, forcing myself to look at him. “Where’s Lura? Can I… can I see her?”
The chief’s face softens even more, lined with sympathy so deep it nearly guts me.
“They’ve already come and picked her up,” he says quietly. “She’s in Sheridan now, at the funeral home. I’ll make sure you know the moment you can go see her.” He ducks his head, his voice rough with grief. “This place ain’t gonna be the same without her.”
The finality of it punches the air from my lungs all over again.
Gone. She’s gone.
The word echoes through my head, hollow and merciless.
When the chief walks away, giving us a moment alone, Liam pulls me close again without a word. I melt against him, too tired to fight it and too broken to pretend I don’t need it.
“Honey,” he murmurs against my hair, voice thick. “We can get you new clothes. Anything you need.”
I let out a watery half-laugh, half-sob, the sound ugly and cracked.
“And witness another marital dispute?” I rasp. “I think not.”
His chest rumbles with a soft, sad laugh. And then—God—I feel the press of his lips against the top of my head.
It’s not a kiss meant to ignite. It’s a kiss meant to keep me standing. And somehow, it’s even more shattering because of it. I close my eyes and cling to him, letting the moment anchor me while everything else falls apart.