Chapter 33
Liam
He couldn’t move. Not because he was in pain—though there was plenty of that. His thighs trembled when he so much as thought about shifting, his throat burned with every swallow, and his body pulsed in places that had never known that kind of ache before.
But what held him in place was Jacob—pressed close and still inside him. His palm was holding Liam’s jaw as if letting go wasn’t an option yet, like maybe Jacob wasn’t ready for this moment to end any more than Liam was.
Something inside him had cracked wide open, and now he didn’t know how to put the pieces back together. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He stared at the ceiling, lungs dragging in air slow and uneven.
Jacob pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder before gently pulling away.
He winced as Jacob eased out of him. The absence struck hard, leaving his chest pulling tight.
God, he hated the empty feeling that came over him; despised the way it clawed at his ribs.
It made his hands itch to pull Jacob back and keep him close.
He had never felt stripped open like this, and he didn’t know how to make sense of it.
Jacob lay down beside him, his palm sliding from Liam’s jaw to the center of his chest. With his other hand he grabbed a shirt that was hanging off the bed, using it to swipe gently at the mess on Liam’s skin before tossing it aside.
“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost careful.
Liam’s mouth curved faintly. “Define okay.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Only the good kind.”
“Are you sure?”
Liam stared at the ceiling, speaking before he could talk himself out of it. “I feel… fucking needy.” It came out like a confession dipped in shame. “Like my body’s not mine right now. Like I want to curl into you and just… stay there. Which is pathetic. I know.”
Jacob didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. Instead, he shifted closer until their bodies touched everywhere. His hand found the line of Liam’s ribs, tracing slow and steady circles into his skin, each pass steadying his heartbeat a little bit more.
“It’s not pathetic.”
Liam shut his eyes. “Feels like it.”
“You gave me everything. Surrendered completely. Of course you feel exposed. You trusted me with your body, your safety, your mind. That’s not weakness.” His tone dropped. “That’s a fucking gift.”
Liam turned into Jacob’s shoulder, hiding in the warm press of him. The familiar scent grounded him until the sharp edges eased and he felt a little bit more like himself.
Silence stretched for a beat before Jacob’s gaze found his. “This was new for me too.”
“Yeah?” Liam rasped.
Jacob nodded once. “Never gone that far with anyone.”
Liam swallowed around the rawness in his throat.
“I’ve never fucked someone like that,” Jacob continued. “Never needed it like that.”
The ache now forming in Liam’s throat had nothing to do with the way Jacob had used it earlier. “So it’s not just me?”
“No,” Jacob said without hesitation, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
They stayed tangled like that, heat pooling between them, neither in a hurry to move. For the first time in months, there was no restless itch under his skin. No weight pressing against his ribs—there was only Jacob.
He’d known for a while now that he loved him, but nothing had prepared him for the depth of it.
After everything they’d shared tonight, the truth thundered through him.
He loved Jacob with a fierceness that scared him, a longing as dangerous as it was undeniable.
They both belonged to others, but in the end, he knew—it would always be him. There was no coming back from this.
* * *
The funeral was small. No music or fanfare, just the scent of lilies clinging to the air and the heavy quiet of people who had nothing left to say. Fifteen, maybe twenty mourners had gathered in a loose half-circle around the grave.
Jacob stood like stone, shoulders squared, face unreadable. He didn’t look angry or grieving in any way the rest of them would recognize, just… contained. Like whatever he felt was locked down behind steel, and he wasn’t about to give anyone the key.
Liam stayed close enough that the brush of an elbow could have bridged the space between them. He kept his eyes on Jacob while the priest called Marcus Wolfe a beloved father and a man of quiet dignity. Jacob didn’t so much as flinch.
When the casket disappeared into the ground and the first shovelfuls of dirt hit the lid, Liam’s fingers itched to reach for him.
He wanted to anchor him for a second and remind him he wasn’t alone.
But here, in front of these strangers—these ghosts from his past—Jacob had boundaries Liam wouldn’t cross.
The crowd began to thin, people moving slowly toward the gates. A few hands reached out to Jacob, offering condolences he barely acknowledged. Soon there were only a handful of people left by the grave.
“You want a minute alone?” Liam asked quietly.
“No.”
Jacob didn’t look away from the dirt. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to feel.”
“You don’t have to feel anything,” Liam offered. “There’s no rule.”
Jacob’s jaw shifted, betraying the strain beneath his stillness. “I keep thinking I should be pissed. Or sad. Or something.”
This time, Liam let their fingers brush. Jacob didn’t pull away. “There’s no right way to do this. You just have to get through it.”
That made Jacob look at him, really look. In his eyes was something heavier than gratitude or affection, it was something unnamed that settled in Liam’s chest and stayed there.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jacob said, voice rough.
Liam swallowed around the knot in his throat. “Yeah. Me too.”
Under the thin shade of a tree just beyond the grave, someone stood watching.
It took Liam only a glance to know who it was.
He had the same pale blue eyes as Jacob, dark curls framing a lean build, and a face that still held the softness of his early twenties.
He leaned against the trunk with quiet defiance, his attention not on the grave, but on Jacob.
“That’s Knox, right?” Liam murmured.
Jacob didn’t look up. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Are you gonna talk to him?”
“No.” The answer was quick, like a door closing before anything could slip through. Yet even as he said it, Liam saw something shift in his expression—not coldness, but wariness. As if Knox’s presence had scraped against an old wound Jacob had tried hard to keep buried.
“He has the same eyes as you.”
Jacob’s mouth curved without humor. “Gift from our daddy dearest. All the men on his side have ’em.”
Liam glanced back. Knox was still there, eyes fixed on Jacob, his gaze observant and assessing.
Then, as if sensing the weight of Liam’s stare, his gaze shifted.
For a beat their eyes held, a flicker of a smirk curving his mouth—more a dare than a greeting.
Then Knox turned and walked away, as if neither this place nor the people in it could hold his attention for long.
When Knox disappeared down the path, the cemetery finally felt empty. The last of the mourners drifted away, until only silence and sun-bleached grass remained.
After a moment, Jacob stepped away to speak with the family lawyer—something about paperwork and signatures. Liam gave them space, heading for the car, waiting in the brittle shade of a tree that looked like it had been dying for years.
He wasn’t alone for long. Footsteps scuffed the dry ground behind him. When he turned, Knox stood there. Up close, the resemblance was sharper. Not so much in his features as in the way he carried himself—as though every muscle in his body had learned early how to brace for impact.
“You’re not family,” Knox said.
“No.”
“You here for him?” He tilted his chin toward Jacob, who was half-hidden behind the cemetery wall.
“Yes, I am.”
Knox’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him. “You his friend?”
Liam hesitated. “Something like that.”
A knowing smirk pulled at his mouth. “Right.” His gaze drifted over the cracked pavement, the lines of cars, and the hum of the freeway, before settling back on Liam. “Did he tell you about me?”
“Only that you’re his half-brother. That the dad who left him… raised you.”
Knox’s jaw worked, a muscle ticking. “He stayed for me. Doesn’t mean he did a good job with either of us.”
He bent, plucked a twig from the ground, and rolled it between his fingers.
“You know what I kept thinking during the service?” His grin was humorless.
“That every word they said about him was a lie. Made me wonder who the hell they were burying, because it sure as shit wasn’t my dad.
” The twig snapped with a quick crack, before he tossed the pieces aside.
Liam watched him carefully. “Were you not close to him?”
A shrug. “Close enough to bury the bastard. That’s about it.”
There was no grief in his tone, just a sharpness that cut through the air.
“You knew about Jacob before today?”
“Nope.” His mouth twisted. “I knew my dad had another kid, but he never talked about him. Lawyer called, said we were both in the will. First time I learned his name.” His gaze slid toward Jacob again. “Not what I expected.”
“Jacob?”
“Yeah. He’s… successful. Made it out of this place.”
Liam stayed quiet.
Knox tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Bet he hates me already.”
“He doesn’t know you,” Liam countered, though he wasn’t sure that made a difference.
“That’s close enough, isn’t it?”
“Maybe not forever.”
Knox’s brows lifted at that, clearly skeptical. “You got your phone on you?”
Liam blinked. “Uh… yeah?”
“Hand it over.”
The demand was wrapped in impatience. Still, when Liam passed him the phone, Knox’s mouth twitched with faint amusement as he quickly punched in a number. He pressed it back into Liam’s palm before his expression shuttered again.
“Give that to Jacob,” he said. “He can use it if he ever decides curiosity is worth dialing.” His mouth kicked up into something resembling a sneer. “Not that he will.”
He didn’t wait for Liam’s reply, just turned, already moving away. No goodbye, no softness, only the imprint of someone who carried damage like a second skin, daring anyone to touch it.
Liam couldn’t shake the thought that if Jacob’s story was fire, Knox’s was the smoke you could choke on. The kind that seeped into your lungs and stayed there long after the flames were gone.