Chapter 31 Piper
The day after, I got to Brewster's ten minutes early and immediately regretted it.
Now I had to sit here, alone, with my overpriced latte and my racing thoughts, watching the door like some kind of anxious teenager waiting for prom.
I should have timed it better. Should have arrived exactly on time, or maybe even a few minutes late, so I wouldn't have to do this…
this waiting, this wondering if he'd show up, this internal debate about whether I should leave before he got here.
I didn't leave.
He saw me immediately and raised his hand in a small wave. The sling was gone. His arm hung at his side, but I could tell from the way he held himself that it still hurt.
He got coffee—black, no sugar, same as always—and walked over to my table.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
He sat down, and we both wrapped our hands around our cups like we needed something to hold onto.
This was a terrible idea. What was I even doing here?
"Thanks for meeting me," Liam said. "I wasn't sure you would."
"I wasn't sure either."
He almost smiled. Almost being the key word. "Fair."
Silence settled between us. The coffee shop was half-empty—a couple in the corner on laptops, an older man reading the newspaper, the barista wiping down the counter.
"So," I said.
"So," he echoed.
Neither of us knew how to start.
He took a breath. "I need to apologize to you. Properly. Not… not like at the bakery, when I just showed up and made it about me. A real apology."
I wrapped my hands tighter around my cup. "Okay."
"I cheated on you." The words came out flat, direct. "For four months. While you were planning our wedding. While you were making cupcakes at five in the morning and addressing invitations and doing everything to build a life with me. I lied to your face every single day."
My throat felt tight.
"I was a coward," he continued. "I got comfortable.
Stopped seeing you… really seeing you. We fell into routines and I stopped appreciating what we had.
What you were." He looked down at his coffee.
"When Jenna paid attention to me, made me feel like I was more than just..
. routine, I took it. I chose the easy thing over the right thing. Every single day for four months."
I watched his face. He wasn't making excuses, nor was he trying to explain it away or make me understand. Just stating facts.
"You were planning our wedding," he said.
"Making lists, tasting cakes, excited about our future.
And I was lying to you. Every morning when I kissed you goodbye.
Every night when I came home. Every time you asked about my day.
" His voice cracked slightly. "You trusted me completely and I used that trust to hurt you. "
Something tightened inside my chest. I took a sip of coffee just to have something to do with my hands.
"I destroyed us," he said. "I destroyed you. And I've spent the last year and a half trying to figure out how to live with that."
The silence stretched. The espresso machine hissed behind the counter. The couple in the corner laughed about something on their laptop.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked quietly.
He looked up and met my eyes. "Because you deserved a real apology. One that wasn't about me feeling better or getting closure. One that was just... the truth."
I nodded slowly. Traced the rim of my coffee cup with my thumb.
He shifted in his seat. "I started seeing someone. A therapist. Dr. Taylor, through the department." He said it like he was admitting something embarrassing. "After I transferred to Station 34, my captain told me I needed to get my shit together or I was going to get someone killed."
I looked up at that.
"He was right," Liam continued. "I was a mess. Working myself into the ground, not sleeping. Trying to outrun it." He paused. "Took me a while to figure out you can't outrun yourself."
The old Liam would have made a joke there, try to deflect. This one just sat with the uncomfortable truth of it.
"Station 34 helped," he said. "Having to rebuild everything from scratch. Prove I could show up and be present. Not just for calls but for…” He gestured vaguely. "Everything. The day-to-day stuff."
I watched him talk. The way he held himself differently. More settled, somehow. Less of that restless energy I remembered.
"I'm not telling you this because—" He stopped. Started over. "I just wanted you to know.”
The espresso machine screamed behind the counter again. Someone's phone buzzed. The world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that we were sitting here, trying to figure out how to exist in the same room without bleeding all over each other.
I set my cup down. "Why did you go in?"
"What?"
"The fire." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Daniel's building. You went into a house on the verge of collapsing. You could have—" I stopped and started over. "Why?"
He looked at his hands, then at the table. Anywhere but at me. "Because it mattered to you. Because even if you hate me, I couldn't stand the idea of you losing someone you loved."
Something cracked open in my chest. It wasn’t forgiveness, not even close. But it was… something.
I pressed my thumb against the edge of the table and focused on the sharp pressure of it.
The old Liam would have made that about him somehow.
Would have found a way to angle it back to us, to what he wanted.
This version just sat there, holding the weight of what he'd said without trying to leverage it into anything more.
"I still can't think about it without wanting to throw up." The words came out quiet and honest. "Jenna, and all the lying. Addressing invitations while you were…” I shook my head. "It's still there, Liam. All of it. Like… something that’s rotting under the floorboards."
He flinched. Part of me was pleased.
"I don't know if I can get past it," I continued. "Maybe some things break so completely they can't be fixed."
"Yeah." He said it soft. Didn’t argue. "Maybe they do."
I wrapped both hands around my cup again. The ceramic had gone cold against my palms. I should say something. Should end this. Should—
"I'm glad you're okay," I said.
He looked up.
"I mean it. When I heard about the fire, when they said you were—" My throat got tight again. I pushed through it. "I'm glad you made it out. I'm glad you're doing better, and getting help, and all of it."
Something flickered across his face. Maybe relief, or gratitude, or just surprise that I'd say it out loud.
"But that's all I can give you right now," I continued. "That's it. That's all I have."
The words settled between us like stones dropping into still water. They weren’t meant to hurt him, but they weren’t soft either. They were just true.
He nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. "I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yeah." He sat back slightly. "I do."
We stayed like that for a moment. Him looking at me like he was memorizing something, and me looking back, trying to figure out if I believed him.
"Thank you," he said finally. "For listening. For…” He gestured at the table, the coffee, the space between us. "For giving me this much. It's more than I had any right to ask for."
Part of me was still half expecting him to ask for another chance, to turn the apology into a negotiation. But this version of Liam didn’t do any of that.
Instead, he just stood up and picked up his cup. He pushed his chair in—a small thing, a nothing thing, but he'd never done that before. Never noticed those kinds of details.
"Take care of yourself, Piper."
My name in his mouth still did something to me. Some muscle memory I couldn't quite kill.
"You too."
He walked toward the door. His hand touched the door frame and I thought, for half a second, that he'd turn around. That he'd look back and try one more time.
He didn't.
The door closed behind him with a soft click. The bell chimed once, then silence.
I sat there with my cold latte, staring at the empty chair across from me. The indent in the cushion where he'd been sitting. His coffee cup was gone too. No trace of him left except the conversation still ringing in my ears.
We weren't friends. Weren't enemies.
We were something else entirely. Something I didn't have a word for. Two people who used to build a future together, now just trying to figure out how to exist in the same city without combusting.
The air between us felt clearer now. Not lighter. God, not lighter at all. Just... clearer. Like when a storm finally breaks and you can see the horizon again, even if everything's still soaked and ruined.
My phone buzzed with a text from Maya.
How'd it go?
I stared at the text, not knowing how to answer. He'd apologized, I'd listened. We'd both said true things and none of it had fixed anything.
But something had shifted.
Not healed. Not even close to healed.
Just... shifted.
It went.
I'll tell you later.
I picked up my cup. The coffee had gone completely cold, bitter on my tongue.
I drank it anyway.