Chapter 9 #2
I’m warm. Safe. The grief that swallowed me whole last night still lingers, but it’s dulled somehow. Softer around the edges.
I shift slightly, and that’s when I realize I’m not just tucked against Liam.
I’m half on top of him.
My head rests over his heart, one of my legs tangled with his, my arm draped across his stomach like I’m trying to anchor myself to him even in sleep.
And his arm?
It’s still wrapped tightly around my back, his hand splayed over my ribs like he never once thought about letting go.
I freeze, heart skittering against my ribs.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because it feels so natural.
Like I belong here. Like I’ve always belonged here.
I lift my head slightly, careful not to wake him.
He’s still asleep, his face relaxed in a way I rarely get to see. No teasing smirk, no stubborn tension in his jaw. Just Liam. Soft and open. And beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
I bite my lip, feeling something dangerous and undeniable unfurl low and slow inside me.
Something that whispers that this could be more.
As if sensing my gaze, Liam shifts, his arm tightening around me, pulling me closer. His forehead brushes against my hair, a sleepy murmur escaping his lips.
“Honey…”
Just that one word.
My heart does a slow, aching flip.
I tip my head back just enough to see him, my hand still pressed against his chest, his against my back.
His eyes are heavy-lidded, unfocused, his hair a rumpled mess that makes him look heartbreakingly young.
“Hey,” I whisper.
For a moment, we just lie there, staring at each other, suspended in the soft, fragile quiet of morning. Neither of us moves to pull away.
He blinks slowly, his thumb starting a lazy, absentminded stroke against the side of my ribs. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like touching me is as natural as breathing.
“You sleep okay?” he murmurs.
I nod. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”
A small, sleepy smile tugs at his mouth. “’Course.”
His hand drifts a little, palm flattening against the curve of my back, grounding me there.
I should move.
I should untangle myself.
But instead, I shift even closer, tucking my forehead against the curve of his throat, breathing in the scent of soap, the faint leather and cedar of his skin, the warmth of home.
Because that’s what he feels like.
Home.
Liam presses a kiss on the top of my head. It’s barely a brush, so light it almost doesn’t register, but it does. It sinks into my skin, into my bones, into all the places that have been hollow for so long.
He lets out a slow breath, his voice barely a whisper when he says, “Could get used to waking up like this.”
The words hit me like a sweet wrecking ball.
I squeeze my eyes shut, clutching the front of his t-shirt.
Because in that sleepy, unguarded moment, I know.
This isn’t pretend anymore.
It’s real.
It’s terrifying.
And it’s already too late to stop it.
“Me too,” I whisper against his chest.
Liam shifts, pulling me even closer. There’s no space between us now. None. Not a breath, not a heartbeat, not a regret.
“I’m gonna call Teddy and cancel,” he murmurs, voice roughened with sleep and something heavier.
My head jerks up, just enough to look at him. “What? Why?”
His hand slides up and down my spine in slow, soothing strokes.
“Because you’re grieving, honey. Work can wait.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes again, but I blink them away.
I shake my head against his chest. “Work is what I need. It's the only thing that'll keep me from falling apart right now.”
He lets out a long, low sigh, the kind that feels like it scrapes against his ribs.
“Fine,” he says, resigned. “But then I’m putting my foot down about one thing.”
I lift an eyebrow, curious.
“I demand we bring Sammi into the house,” he says firmly, like it's non-negotiable.
I blink, caught completely off guard. “But why?”
His hand stills at my back, splaying wide.
“Because you're living here now. And she’ll comfort you.”
My throat tightens so hard it hurts. He says it like it’s already decided. Like there’s no question about it. No expiration date. No awkward explanations needed.
My damn breath catches in my chest. For a second, I can't speak.
But somehow, I find my voice. “Fine,” I manage, barely above a whisper. “You can bring her inside.”
His body relaxes against mine, a soft, satisfied sound rumbling low in his chest. “Good.”
The quiet stretches between us, warm and thick, like a blanket.
And then, in a voice even rougher than before, Liam says, “You scared me last night.”
I stiffen slightly, but he doesn't let me pull away.
“When I heard you crying…” His fingers trail lightly up and down my spine again, like he can't stop touching me. “I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to make it better.”
“You did,” I say, pressing my forehead against the curve of his throat. “This helped.”
He exhales slowly, his breath warm against my hair.
“I’m glad,” he says, voice cracking just a little. “Guess I'm just not used to feeling so helpless.”
I shift closer, if that's even possible, and thread my fingers through his shirt, holding onto him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s shifted under my feet.
“You’re not helpless,” I whisper. “You’re the only reason I'm still standing.”
And maybe it’s selfish or reckless, but I don’t move away.
And neither does he.