Chapter 14
Liam
Stone – Whiskey Myers
Walking through the door of Rafferty’s, I wondered what the hell I was doing.
Why the hell I’d suggested we go out for dinner in the first place.
I didn’t even recognize myself or the words that were coming out of my mouth.
It was like they belonged to someone else entirely.
Someone braver, someone who didn’t spend his days building walls instead of tearing them down.
The familiar scent of beer, grilled onions and aged wood should have been comforting, but tonight it felt charged with possibility that made my blood fizz with anticipation.
“There’s a booth over there,” I suggested, gesturing toward the back corner. The tables down the center were too small, too intimate. At least in a booth I could maintain some distance, some semblance of control over whatever was happening to me when I was around Charity.
“This is a nice place.” Her smile was radiant as she took in the rustic décor, eyes bright with genuine delight. “They have a bicycle hanging from the ceiling, how cool is that?”
“Yeah, the guy who owns the place used to cycle in the Olympics.” I watched her study the antique bicycle with the same focus she brought to everything.
Frowning, her nose crinkled in the most distracting way. “On that?”
“No, not that specific one.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, the cycle had to be at least a century old, its paint chipped, and spokes bent. “Doubt it would get past the parking lot.”
Her eyes and slid along the worn leather seat, her laugh spilling out like music. “I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not.” The words came out rougher than I intended. “For all we know he could be a really old guy.”
The pause that followed felt suspended in mid-air, and then we were both laughing, real unguarded laughter that seemed to dissolve every careful barrier I’d built.
The ball of tension in my stomach unraveled, replaced by something I hadn’t felt in years.
Without thinking, I slid into the booth beside her instead of across from her, drawn by the warmth radiating from her skin and the faint scent of what I now recognized as jasmine and cotton candy that seemed to cling to her.
Charity grabbed a menu from the wooden stand on the table. “So, what do you recommend?” she asked, close enough that I could see the silver flecks in her blue eyes. “Because I could eat a horse. They don’t serve horse meat do they?”
She giggled at her joke, leaning into me and her proximity was intoxicating. The sound of her breathing, the way she unconsciously leaned toward me as she spoke. Every instinct screamed at me to put distance between us, but I couldn’t seem to move away.
“Just regular food,” I managed, my voice coming out lower than usual. “Nothing exotic.”
And while she studied the menu, all I could think about was how damn enticing she was, never mind the food.
“So, tell me,” Charity said, sitting back in her seat, hands resting on her stomach. “How are your mom and dad getting on in Florida? Are they enjoying it?”
For a moment I was lost in the joy of her smile.
It was satisfied and free and I thought about how great it would be to feel so at ease with life.
There was a smudge of sauce at the corner of her mouth and my fingers itched to rub it away.
My heart somersaulted as I considered maybe even licking it away.
Her giggle brought me back from my daydream. “Tally told me about your dad paragliding or something.”
“Yeah, yeah, he did.” Reaching for my glass of water, my arm brushed with hers and it felt like I’d been electrocuted. “He’s started to do a lot of strange things since he’s been there.”
Blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “They’re enjoying life there, I think it’s great.” She blew out her cheeks. “Do you feel like a stuffed pillow as well, or is it just me?”
“That would be because you finished off my fries.” My lips twitched and when she grinned and shrugged, I felt my cheeks pull into a full smile. “Want me to put a pin in you?”
“Honestly, that’s how I feel. Like I might pop.” She groaned, low and breathy.
All sorts of thoughts ran through my head. Thoughts that I hadn’t had for years. Thoughts that were usually kept for the darkness of night.
“What about your folks?” I asked. “How is your dad coping taking care of your mom since her stroke?”
Charity’s expression changed, and two little lines appeared on her brow, two lines that ached to be traced. Her hands dropped to her sides, fingertips curling into the worn leather, like she was grasping for some semblance of gravity.
“They have a nurse who goes in a couple of days a week.” Looking up at the ceiling she sighed.
“That’s good, right?” I fought the urge to link my fingers with hers, to give her the comfort and support she needed.
“I just feel guilty, which is why I paid for the nurse.”
The door to the bar opened, letting in cool air and the chatter of the three women coming inside.
Charity’s attention was briefly taken by them, giving me the opportunity to study her profile.
The way her nose gently turned up at the end, the pillow plumpness of her lips, the golden luster of her hair that hung like a sheet of satin over her shoulders.
“Anyway,” she said, painting on a smile. “The main thing is Mom is well cared for and I go and visit as often as I can.”
“I get the guilt,” I told her, feeling it in my chest. “I feel it with my folks because I don’t see them as often as I should.”
“Do you want to visit and not have time, or do you avoid it?”
The question surprised me, almost as much as the intensity in her cornflower blue eyes. I’d never considered why I didn’t see them often. I just knew that over the years not even my mom had been able to break through my walls, and that was down to me.
“I avoid it.” The admission felt like dropping a boulder I’d been carrying for years. The weight of the blackness lessened. “I avoid anything that might result in me having to talk about…” I drew in a breath. “It.”
Charity’s face softened and her pinky finger linked with mine, curling around it like a hug.
“I get that, Liam, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about that.
” She shrugged. “We all have avoidance tactics for things we don’t like to face.
Want to know a secret?” She leaned closer, her tongue flicking out to wet her bottom lip, pausing for a beat of my heart.
“That’s partly why I got the nurse for Mom.
I was sick and tired of every visit ending up with a discussion about Faith, so I figured the best way to avoid it was not to have to visit as often.
” Her chest rose slowly as her gaze drifted across the bar, before landing back on me.
“I nullify the guilt by throwing money at it and knowing Mom’s getting the best care possible. ”
I laughed deep and low. “Maybe I could pay an actor who looks like me to go to Florida a few times a year.”
“Yes! What a great idea. Who would you pick?”
“I don’t know, who do you think?” I nudged her, the lightness and ease of the conversation felt freeing. If not a little overwhelming because I hadn’t that for such a long time.
Leaning back, with a little smirk on her lips, she studied me, narrowing her eyes. “I’m thinking Brandon Sklenar maybe, but more It Ends With Us than 1923.”
“I have no damn clue, but I’ll take your word for it.” Pulling my hand away from hers, even though I didn’t want to, I reached for her wine glass. “Want another one?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. It’s probably time I thought about getting home. I can get an Uber if you want to stay.”
“Absolutely not. I’ll take you home.”
As Charity gathered her purse, the shrill ringing of her phone broke the silence. “Sorry, it might be my dad.”
“No problem.”
When she looked down at the screen, she tried to hide the dread, but I could see it creep across her features as she answered the call.
“Hey Faith.” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she listened to whatever her sister had to say. “Don’t shout at me… you know why you need to be there… yes, because it’s what’s best and—”
I’d heard enough. “Give me the phone, Charity.” I didn’t demand anything from anyone, but this was something I was not taking no as an answer for. Holding out my hand I raised my brows. “Please.”
She handed it over, dropping her forehead to the table.
“Faith, it’s Liam. What’s the problem?”
“Shit,” she cursed. “Are you my sister’s shadow now?”
“Yeah and what of it? Just quit complaining, Faith and let Mrs. Rodriguez help you.”
“I want out of here. This woman is a damn tyrant.”
“That’s exactly what she needs to be like to help you. Now suck it up buttercup and stop calling Charity when all you want to do is complain.”
Not giving her a chance to respond, I ended the call and handed the phone to Charity.
“Your sister has a talent for complicating a simple situation, so don’t take any more of her shit, Charity. She’s in the best place and if she hates Mrs. Rodriguez then she’s doing her job properly.” She drew in a breath, long dark lashes batting against her cheeks. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s get you home.”
Walking to the parking lot, I struggled not to put an arm around her slim shoulders, especially when she shivered against the cool night air which carried the scent of distant wood smoke.
Every step across the gravel felt like a battle between what I wanted and what I knew was safe.
I was finding that every moment with this woman was a war I wasn’t sure I wanted to win.
When we reached the truck, Charity stopped and turned to me. The moonlight caught her hair like spun silver, her complexion porcelain in the ethereal beams. As the night wrapped around us, intimate and quiet, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anyone, or anything, more beautiful.
“Liam,” she whispered, as she wrapped her arms around her waist against the chill. “I know I said it before but thank you. For tonight, for Faith. It’s just been incredible, having someone to be there with me, to share the load with, even if it’s just for one night.”
The glimpse of a tear brimming against her lashes stole the breath from my lungs. My chest constricted with something that felt dangerously close to need. Without thinking I reached up, my thumb brushing the tear away from her soft cheek. Her skin was warm silk beneath my calloused fingertips.
She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and something inside me cracked wide open.
I found myself stepping closer drawn by invisible threads I couldn’t fight.
My lips found her cheek in the softest whisper of a kiss, tasting of sweetness as her scent enveloped me, intoxicating and dangerous.
For a heartbeat that stretched, I stayed there, my mouth a breath away from hers, every nerve ending on fire. Her lips that were so close, parted slightly, her breathing shallow. All I had to do was turn my head and I’d be able to taste her properly, lose myself in everything she was offering.
Then Mallory’s face flashed through my mind. Ezra’s tiny fingers. The crushing weight of loss that had nearly destroyed me. My hands began to tremble against her skin as panic clawed up my throat.
I’d built those walls for a reason. To survive. To protect what was left of me from shattering completely.
“You don’t have to thank me.” I said roughly, forcing myself to step back. My hands shook as I shoved them into my pockets. “Just call it a friendly helping hand.”
The look of disappointment that crossed her face twisted in my gut. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion and hurt flickering in their depths before she quickly masked it. The sharp breath she took seemed to echo in the space between us, along with all the words we couldn’t say.
I had to ignore it. Had to pretend my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs and that every instinct was screaming at me to close the distance again. Because if I didn’t step back, I’d let myself fall deeper, and I wasn’t sure losing Charity Dawson was something I was willing to risk.