Chapter 44
Liam
Bloom – Paper Kites
I'd never thought I'd be sitting in a therapist's waiting room, but here I was, drumming my fingers against my knee and wondering what the hell I was doing.
The office smelled like vanilla candles and had the kind of soft lighting that was probably meant to be calming but just made me feel like I was in a spa.
Dr. Sarah Chen had been recommended by my doctor when I'd finally worked up the courage to ask for a referral.
That conversation alone had been harder than I'd expected— admitting out loud that I needed help dealing with the grief I'd been carrying for fourteen years.
But Charity deserved a man who could face his demons, and more importantly, I deserved to stop living like a ghost.
The last few weeks since our pregnancy scare had been different.
Better. We'd settled into something that felt real and solid, like we'd weathered the worst storm and come out stronger.
Charity had been patient with my therapy search, never pushing but always supporting.
She'd even offered to come with me today, but this was something I needed to do alone.
My phone buzzed with a text from my brother.
Cole
How's it going? Remember, she's there to help, not judge
Before I could respond, a door opened and a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and graying hair appeared.
“Liam? I'm Dr. Chen. Ready to get started?”
I stood up, my palms damp. After fourteen years of carrying this alone, I was finally ready to let someone help me figure out how to live with my grief instead of being buried by it.
“Yeah,” I said, following her into her office. “I'm ready.”
Sitting in The Tap with my brother and Nate I felt more relaxed than I had done in years.
It was amazing what one hour talking to a stranger could do for your wellbeing.
The hoots and hollers of a group of college kids home for the weekend, the clatter of pool balls, the crash of bottles being thrown into trash carts behind the bar, would usually have annoyed the hell out of me, but tonight not one inch of my skin was itching, not one nerve ending was on fire.
“And you’ve booked another session?” Nate asked, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket—the man didn’t even dress down for a night out in a local bar. His only concession was no tie.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I don’t know why, but even after one session I feel lighter.”
Cole slapped my back with one hand while lifting his beer with the other. “I’m happy for you. The love of a good woman can change a man.” He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked around his beer bottle.
“I’m still surprised you were stupid enough to knock her up,” Nate muttered.
“I didn’t,” I protested. “I just thought I had.”
Nate scoffed, throwing a peanut in the air and catching it in his mouth. “Wouldn’t catch me making such a high school mistake.”
“Yeah well, you’d need to have a woman who wants to sleep with you first,” I grumbled, aware of the irony. Nate was a much sought after handsome-as-fuck millionaire.
“Nor me.” Cole shuddered. “Imagine that, being tied to someone just because you’ve got great swimmers.”
Funny, because when I did imagine that with Charity, I felt kind of excited. Now all the panic was gone, and I was starting to address my fears, kids with her in the future felt right.
“Not sure you’ll have that problem,” Nate said with a smirk. “A, I doubt you have good swimmers and B, you’d need a woman to want to have sex with you first.”
Cole flicked him his middle finger and then turned to me. “Heard any more about the dead body?”
“Spoke to Jackson this morning. They might have a lead with a ring they found near the body. It got missed initially but it’s a rodeo championship ring. It’s a national finals one and they tend to have the date inscribed inside.”
“And what date is it?” Nate asked.
“That’s the problem. It’s so old and worn it’s difficult to know.
” I looked toward the door as it opened, a feeling of longing pinching my chest. “Joe’s going to speak to Deacon to see if he can help.
” Joe Harley’s brother, Deacon, was an ex-rodeo rider who now ran a feed store that served Sundance County.
“Damn shame,” Nate added. “Being buried like that and no one knowing.” He banged his bottle on the table. “Why the hell do you keep looking over at the door?”
“No reason.” I felt my cheeks burn with the lie.
At that very moment the door opened again, and this time when I glanced over the sight before me was perfect. Charity walked in with Rose, both laughing as they breezed inside. Her hair was down, long and straight, she didn’t seem to curl it too much these days, but I loved it either way.
Casually dressed in tight jeans and a tight red sweater with tall, black ankle boots, she looked incredible.
So incredible, I felt my dick twitch in my jeans.
She’d told me that she’d be spending the evening with Rose, going out to the Maple Hotel for an early dinner.
I knew that meant she would probably come into The Tap.
I’d been like a kid waiting for Christmas all evening.
“Now I fucking get it.” Nate rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back. “I’ll go and get some more drinks.” He waved at Charity and Rose, beckoning them to come over.
As they reached us, he pointed at the table next to ours. “Take a seat ladies and I’ll get you some drinks.”
Nate Jenkins was a smooth bastard and if Charity wasn’t looking at me like I hung the moon, I’d be jealous.
“We can buy our own,” Rose suggested, yet sat down anyway. “But as they probably don’t have champagne, two beers will be great.” She flashed a smile at Cole. “Good practice today?”
“Yeah great. Jerome is doing great, his tackling and tacking back is improving.” He picked up his bottle and took a long swig.
Rose flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I have no idea what that means, but great.”
Charity leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Hey, don’t you look hot?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Not as hot as you,” I breathed out, my voice low and desperate. “How soon is too soon to make excuses and go home.”
I couldn’t help it, since the pregnancy scare we’d gotten closer each day, craving each other more.
“We only just got here,” Charity replied, despite glancing over to the door. “Maybe another hour?”
As she giggled, I knew I could spend my life listening to that sound. “God, I love you,” I whispered.
The word was so easy to use. No stumbling, no concerns about whether I meant it or whether it was too soon.
It didn’t matter because I knew it was reciprocated.
A thousand times. Charity not only told me but showed me every single day.
I hated the damn phrase ‘love language’, but Charity’s was not only saying the words but hugs, kisses, sweet little notes, small gifts that only the woman who loved me would know I’d like.
Last week she came home from a two day trip to Portland organizing a conference for creative media companies, and she brought me a gift of a pair of handcrafted wooden angel wings that matched my tattoo perfectly.
Apparently, there was a guy whittling wood at a little stall and so she asked him to make them for me, describing them from memory.
Then, only yesterday, she found a ceramic key fob shaped like a sun and presented it to me with a key to her house attached.
I was about to kiss her when Nate returned and placed a bottle of champagne and two flutes on the table. Vivi the bartender arrived soon after with three bottles of beer, placing one down in front of each of us.
“I didn’t know they had champagne here,” Rose cried, clapping her hands like a seal.
“You flash bastard,” I muttered to Nate as he took his seat.
“I had Vivi stash me some in the cellar.” Sitting, he brushed something off the leg of his suit pants. “For special occasions.”
“What’s the special occasion?” Charity asked as Rose filled her glass.
Nate smirked, pointing at me. “Him falling in love.” Then he pointed at Cole. “And him finally getting laid.”
Cole almost spat his beer out. “Who says?”
One of the flute glasses tipped over, spilling champagne. “Oh shit. Sorry.” Rose opened her purse and pulled out a wad of tissue, mopping it up. “I think talking about my son’s soccer coach getting laid shocked me.”
“And how the fuck do you know?” Cole asked, throwing his hands in the air.
“You always wear that sweater when you’ve been laid.”
We all burst out laughing. Loud and happy, even Cole. And that was how the evening continued until I persuaded Charity that two hours of socializing was plenty, and it was time to go home.
The second we stepped through Charity’s front door, I felt it, the shift. The kind that settles low and warm in your chest. The kind that tells you that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
She leaned against the door, toeing off her boots, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her hair slipping forward in that silk sheet my fingers had grown too used to. Then she looked at me, really looked, and it hit me. She saw someone worth coming home to. Hell, it undid me every damn time.
“It was fun tonight,” she said, her voice soft and a little breathless.
I stepped toward her, hands finding her waist like they belonged there. “Yeah,” I murmured, letting my forehead brush hers, “but this part right here? This is my favorite.”
Her smile hit me in the ribs, sharp and sweet all at once.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, fingertips brushing the short hairs there, and that tiny touch alone sent a pulse of heat straight through me. I slid my hands up her sides, slow enough to feel every shiver it caused.
“You’re staring,” she teased quietly.
I didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Just can’t believe my luck I guess—to have you so beautiful, so kind, so damn sexy.”
As my fingers pushed up inside her sweater, her breath hitched, and I loved hearing it.