Chapter 17
I walk aimlessly around the fairgrounds, letting the noise and color and dust blur into a background I can't quite focus on. Still doing my job. Still smiling. Still wearing the mask that says Olive’s fine.
At one point, I hear Phern’s voice calling my name.
I pretend I don't hear her and duck into the nearest tent, my chest heaving like I’ve just outrun something.
It’s a vendor selling homemade baby items. Tiny onesies.
Crocheted blankets. Knit booties. The sight of them guts me, fresh and deep.
Because it reminds me that I might not ever get that with Liam.
Not if he lets his father come between us so easily.
Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I blink them away and force my legs to move. I pick up a pair of tiny yellow booties—sunshine-bright, soft as a prayer—and without thinking, I buy them for Charlie and Sam. Because even if my world is shattering theirs is just beginning.
I slip the booties into my bag and keep walking, covering nearly every inch of the fairgrounds. Numb and hollowed out, my smile stretched too tight across my face.
And that’s when I see him.
Liam.
At the bar. Laughing. Talking. Flirting.
The woman he’s with is exactly the type I've seen him with before. Tall. Blonde. Busty. Everything I’m not.
Everything I’ll never be. I watch frozen as she lays her hand on his arm, as he leans closer, grinning like he doesn't have a single care in the world.
Like what happened between us was nothing. Like I was nothing.
The ground tilts beneath me, and for one awful, gut-wrenching second, I think I might be sick right here in the dirt. I turn away.
I don't run or cry.
I just walk. One foot in front of the other.
Because if Liam can pretend I never mattered, then maybe one day I’ll learn how to pretend too. But not today. No, today is about surviving and figuring out what in the hell I’m going to do.
I find Sam and Charlie in line for the BBQ tasting. Their faces light up when they see me, and before I can make an excuse, they plead for me to join them.
It helps being with them. Helps silence the storm raging in my chest. Almost. But my gaze keeps drifting. Scanning the crowd. Searching. Is Liam still here? Is he still with her? Or did they leave together?
Charlie bumps her shoulder into mine, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Hey,” she says, eyes soft. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile, the edges brittle.
“Just tired,” I lie. “It’s been a busy day. But I think I landed some good contacts for the ranch.”
Sam grins, tossing an arm around my shoulder like I haven’t just shattered into a thousand pieces.
“What would we do without you?”
I smile again. It’s hollow and mechanical.
“There are a million more of me out there,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Charlie’s lips part like she wants to say something, maybe call bullshit, but before she can, Teddy ambles up, beaming like he’s already crowned himself the BBQ king.
“Well, what do you think of number three?” he asks, winking.
The entries are supposed to be anonymous, but Teddy has no problem bending the rules to ensure he wins.
“It’s delicious,” I answer honestly, clutching at normalcy with both hands. “Did I taste cinnamon?”
Teddy slaps a hand over his heart, mock-swooning.
“Bessie’s going to love you, Olive. Not many folks pick up on that.”
“It’s really good,” I say, meaning it—and also not.
Because nothing tastes right. Nothing feels right.
Teddy’s voice cuts through my daze.
“How would you and Liam feel about bumping up the trip to my place in Texas? I’m missing my lady something fierce, and I don't think I can go much longer without her at my side.”
My heart stutters.
“Oh, I, um—”
“We can move up the trip,” Liam says from behind me.
His voice is flat and emotionless. I stiffen but don’t turn around. I wonder how long he’s been there.
Teddy claps his hands together. “Excellent! I’ll let Bessie know!”
I turn to Liam and find his face carved from stone.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
Not a touch. Not a glance. Just cold, clipped words that cut me deeper than a knife.
I nod because I don't trust my voice. It would be so easy to react the way he wants me to. He’s told me all about it.
How his mother and father would fight. How Carl knew just what to say to push her buttons.
That’s exactly what’s happening here. He wants me to say something so he can put the blame on me.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
We say our goodbyes. We walk side by side toward the parking lot.
But he doesn’t reach for my hand. Doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t even look my way. The space that used to be filled with laughter, with heat, with love is now a canyon.
And for the first time since I met Liam Stone I realize he might never come back to me.
But I have to at least try.
“You have to know,” I say, my voice shaking but sure. “Your father is just trying to get under your skin.”
He keeps walking, doesn’t slow, doesn’t turn.
“Phern told me he asked Sam for money,” I press, chasing after him. “That’s all this is, Liam. It’s a game. It’s always been a game with him.”
Liam reaches his truck. Doesn’t open my door like he usually would. He just yanks open the driver’s side, climbs in, and slams the door shut behind him. I scramble in too, heart pounding, fumbling with my seatbelt as he starts the engine.
The silence is suffocating.
“Liam, please,” I whisper. “Talk to me.”
“I don't have anything to say,” he mutters, staring straight ahead.
But I do. I have everything to say.
“I saw you,” I say, my voice cracking. “With that blonde. Flirting.”
His jaw tics, but he doesn't respond.
“Did that make you feel better?” I ask, my voice rising. Hell, I’m only human and seeing them together hurt. So much. “Did it make you feel like a man again? Like you had power?”
Nothing.
“You know,” I say, bitter laughter bubbling up like acid. “That's exactly the kind of thing your father used to do to your mother. Flirt with every woman in a twenty-mile radius just to remind her she was disposable.”
The truck jerks slightly as he turns onto the main road. But still no apology. No explanation.
Instead, he mutters, “There's one small difference.”
I stare at him, praying that difference is us. That he says it’s because he loves me.
“They were married. We aren't.”
The words hit harder than any slap.
I say softly, blinking fast, “No, but we were in a relationship. Or, at least, I thought we were.”
“Guess you thought wrong,” he mutters under his breath.
I grip the edge of my seat so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“I thought wrong?” I echo, voice shaking. “Funny. I’ve never known you to share a bedroom with a woman before.” My throat burns. “Just me.”
He lets out a humorless, low laugh.
“About that. I think we need to put a break on whatever this is.”
The words drop like a bomb between us.
He doesn't look at me when he adds, “You’re clearly getting too clingy.”
I suck in a ragged breath. It would be so easy to scream. To beg. But I won't. I lift my chin.
“And what about Teddy?” I ask quietly. “What about the deal? Do you really think we’re going to convince them we’re a happy couple like this?”
Liam finally glances at me and shrugs.
“I think you’re a good actress.”
The cruelty in it is almost impressive.
“And that you can make people believe whatever you choose.”
The final nail. The last betrayal.
And somehow I still manage to whisper, “Good to know.”
A thick, punishing silence falls between us for the rest of the drive. Every mile, every second ticking by like a countdown to something I don't want to face.
When we finally pull up to the house, Liam doesn't even glance at me. He hops out of the truck without a word, striding toward the barn with stiff, angry steps. I watch him go, my chest tight, my hands shaking in my lap. For a moment, I sit there, frozen. Hoping and praying he’ll turn back.
He doesn’t.
Finally, I force myself out of the truck, the evening air cool against my tear-slick cheeks.
Inside the house, Sammi is waiting at the door, her little black body twining around my ankles with a soft, questioning meow.
The second I hear her, I break. I scoop her up into my arms, burying my face in her fur as the first sob rips out of me, raw and jagged.
She purrs, small and steady, trying to soothe me as I carry her down the hall.
Into our room.
Into his room.
I set her gently on the bed, wiping my face with trembling hands.
“Guess we should move into the spare room,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
Sammi meows again, curling around the comforter like she doesn’t understand why everything is falling apart. God, I wish I didn’t either.
Packing my things feels like ripping pieces of my heart out. One drawer at a time. One hanger at a time. One memory at a time. I move slowly, deliberately, careful not to make noise as if silence will somehow make this less real. As if Liam might come walking through the door and tell me to stop.
He doesn’t.
He stays gone.
By six o’clock, everything I own is shoved into the furthest room from his. The room feels cold. Foreign and so very wrong.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my arms wrapped tight around myself, staring at nothing. My mind spins uselessly.
I’m going to have to find a place to live. Fast. But Broken Heart Creek isn’t like other towns. Options are limited.
My breath catches painfully as a new, darker thought slams into me.
What if he fires me, too? What if losing Liam means losing everything?
The ranch. The job I love. The only place I’ve felt at home since I left the wreckage of my old life behind.
The tears come harder now, silent and unstoppable.
Because the truth is it was never just about love.
It was about belonging. And without Liam I don’t know who I am anymore.
I hear him come in around nine. The heavy thud of boots against the hardwood. The slow, dragging weight of him.
Squaring my shoulders, I slip out of the spare room and follow the sound.
I find him at the kitchen sink, standing with his head bowed, water running over his hand.
When I get closer, I see it.
His knuckles are raw, bleeding and split open.
“Liam!” I gasp, reaching out. “What did you do?”
He jerks away from my touch like it burns. And when his breath fans over my face the smell hits me. Sharp. Bitter. Overwhelming.
“Just a few rounds with the punchin’ bag,” he mutters, voice thick with drink.
I stare at him. At the way his shoulders slump. At the way he won’t meet my eyes.
“You’re drunk,” I whisper.
“Tryin' to be,” he says, and for a second, he sounds broken.
I press my lips together, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Here,” I say, reaching for him again. “Let me help you.”
Carefully, gently, I wash his torn knuckles. Then I cross the room, grabbing a towel and filling it with ice. He groans low in his chest when I press it against his hand. And when he sways dangerously, I grab onto his arm to steady him.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Let’s get you to the couch.”
“Bed,” he slurs.
I hesitate. Then nod. Because how can I deny him anything? Even now? Even after everything?
I lead him down the hall, supporting his weight. We reach the doorway, and he stops, swaying again. His bloodshot gaze sweeps the room.
“You moved out,” he rasps, voice hollow.
“I did,” I whisper back.
He mutters something under his breath—something I can’t make out—and stumbles toward the bed. Sinks onto my side. Or what used to be my side.
I pull a blanket over him. Start to turn away.
“Wait,” he says hoarsely.
I stop, my heart in my throat.
“Stay with me.”
I should say no. I should walk out and leave him to the loneliness he chose. But I don’t. I cross the room. Climb into the bed next to him.
He turns immediately, pulling me into his arms, clutching me like a drowning man. And moments later, he’s snoring softly against my hair.
I lie there, rigid. Staring into the dark. For a brief, foolish moment, I let myself believe. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. Maybe he’s just scared. Maybe we can still fix this.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Once. Twice. Three more times.
I ignore it at first. Try to. But when it doesn’t stop, I carefully ease it from his jeans. My hands shake as I unlock it. I know the code. Just like he knows mine.
I open the messages.
The first is from Teddy, confirming our trip to Texas.
I start to breathe again. Until I see the second thread.
No name saved. But I know.
The blonde.
It’s her.
Three photos. Explicit. Smiling. Posing for him. Offering herself to him. And the last message… “Can’t wait to ride you, cowboy.”
The world tilts.
My heart stops.
I sit there, staring at the screen. At the proof. At the truth. At the final, irreparable fracture between us. And for the first time tonight, I realize this isn't a misunderstanding.
It’s betrayal. Pure and complete.
So, I slip from the bed and go to my room, locking the door behind me.
And then I break.