7. Liam
7
LIAM
The heat from the kiss still burns through me as I watch the three witches finally glide away, their shock bringing a satisfaction deep in my belly.
I straighten, a smile playing on my lips as I look at Emma, expecting to see relief and gratitude written all over her face. Instead, she's staring at me with thunderclouds brewing in her eyes.
“What did you just do?” she spits, her voice tight with barely controlled fury.
Confused, I blink. “Do? I just…covered for you. You should be thanking me.”
A strangled sound escapes her lips, half-laugh, half-sob. She buries her face in her hands, muffling whatever she’s about to say.
I take a step closer, concerned. “Emma?”
She doesn't move. Hesitantly, I reach out a hand and gently remove her hand from her face. Her eyes, when they meet mine, are blazing with something far beyond annoyance. Fear? Apprehension? Whatever this is, it isn’t good.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she hisses, her voice barely a whisper.
My heart stutters in my chest, suddenly pounding against my ribs like a frantic bird. “I was…helping. Don't you get it? Those women were practically dragging you through the mud.”
She scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound. “Helping? You call that helping?”
Now I'm getting annoyed. “What else would you call it?”
She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Liam, for God's sake, you just…kissed me! In view of the whole grocery store! In front of everyone!”
The realization hits me like a physical blow. The kiss is a problem. But her reaction makes me a bit disappointed. I enjoyed the kiss, maybe a bit too much for acting, and I thought from the way she kissed me back and wrapped her hands around me she enjoyed it too.
Heat floods my cheeks. “Look, I…” I stammer, searching for the right words. “I just… Well, they were getting to you, and I?—“
“And you what?” she challenges, her voice rising a notch. “Decided to play Sir Galahad and rescue me from a pack of gossiping hens?”
I wince. Maybe “Sir Galahad” isn’t the best analogy. “Something like that,” I mumble.
“This isn't a fairytale, Liam,” she says, her voice laced with bitterness. “This isn’t New York, either. This is Harmony Creek. People here don't forget things easily, and they love to speculate.”
“So what?” I retort, a defensive edge creeping into my voice. “It was a kiss. Two adults. Big deal.”
She stares at me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and something akin to pity. “You don't get it, do you?”
Frustration bubbles up inside me. “Get what? That you were about to be badmouthed by a bunch of…mean girls?”
“This isn't about mean girls, Liam,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “This is about reputations. About small-town gossip that can follow you around for years. Don't you think I know that?”
Her words hit me like a cold slap. The truth is, I hadn't thought that far ahead. I'd acted impulsively, a mix of annoyance at her tormentors and…something else. Something I hadn't quite dared to admit to myself yet.
Silence hangs heavy between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, I stammer out an apology. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to cause you any trouble.”
It's a lousy apology, half-hearted and laced with a defensiveness I can't quite shake. She sees right through it.
“No,” she says, her voice cold. “You didn't mean to cause trouble. You just didn't think. That's what you always do, Liam. Charge in without a plan, leaving a mess for others to clean up.”
The anger flares hot within me. “Hold on a damn minute,” I interject. “I was trying to help! And besides, it wasn't like I planned on causing a scene. Damon asked us to try to get along for the wedding, that's all.”
“Well, forget the wedding,” she snaps. “Because right now, I'm not letting you walk all over me.”
“Walk all over you?” I repeat, incredulous. “Emma, I just?—“
“You just what?” she challenges, her eyes blazing. “Made a complete fool of both of us? Thanks for that, Liam.”
Her voice drips with sarcasm, and the sting of her words hits me hard. Maybe she’s right. The anger that has been simmering starts to boil over. I open my mouth to retort, a sharp comeback ready on my tongue, but the words die in my throat. The truth is, I can't argue with her. I had acted impulsively without considering the consequences.
“Fine,” I mutter, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. “We'll deal with it.”
She shakes her head, her expression a storm of emotions. “Delusional,” she mutters under her breath.
Without another word, she grabs her grocery bags, the plastic handles digging into her white knuckles. The tension in her shoulders speaks volumes.
I make a move to help her, a stupid, instinctive reaction. “Here, let me get those,” I offer, reaching out for the bags.
She throws me a look that could curdle milk. “Don't,” she snaps, her voice tight.
“But…” I stammer, the word hanging unfinished in the air.
“Don't,” she repeats, her voice even sharper. Without another word, she turns on her heel and storms out of the grocery store, her exit a silent explosion of pent-up frustration.
I watch her go, the anger slowly draining out of me, replaced by a dull ache of regret. I rake my hands through my hair, a frustrated groan escaping my lips.
“Goddammit, Liam,” I mutter to myself. What have I done?
My head throbs in rhythm with the receding taillights of Emma's car. The echo of her engine fades into the afternoon hum of Harmony Creek, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that mirrors the ache in my chest. I can still feel the imprint of the kiss—the soft press of her lips against mine, the way her body had momentarily molded against mine. A jolt of electricity shoots through me, a memory of that night in my New York apartment flashing before my eyes.
What the hell did I just do?
Running a hand through my hair, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the image away. Did that really happen? I’ve always prided myself on rational control, especially when it comes to women. And I just grabbed Emma Cole in broad daylight and kissed her in front of the entire town?
Maybe I need to find a good psychiatrist. There’s something wrong in my head. That’s the only answer to these impulsive actions and questionable judgment.
Stealing a glance around, I notice several curious faces staring my way, muttering among each other. Their eyes prickle me with a dozen half-formed questions as I shoulder my bag and head to my car, which is parked haphazardly at the curb outside the grocery store.
Halfway there, a cheerful voice calls out to me. “Dr. Miller's son, isn't that right?”
I look up to see a woman who’s surely in her seventies. She stares at me with kind eyes and a warm smile.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, unsure where this is going.
“Heading downtown?” she continues, her voice bright. “My son just called. Says he can't pick me up anymore, and who knows how long it'll take to get a cab?”
I hesitate for a moment, and then a sigh escapes my lips. “Hop in.” I walk to open the passenger seat for her.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I catch her stealing glances at me. Finally, she speaks up. “You're a very handsome young man,” she whispers in a conspiratorial whisper. “I'm glad our jewel is safe with you.”
My brow furrows. “Jewel? Safe?” What in the world was she talking about?
Her smile widens. “Oh, honey, don't play coy. I saw the whole thing. Your passionate kiss and lover's tiff with Emma Cole.” She bobs her head. “It's about time she found a decent man.”
My jaw clenches. “We're not…dating,” I protest.
“Nonsense,” she cuts me off with a chuckle. “Now, pull over here, dearie. This is perfect.”
I glance around. This isn't a neighborhood, just a dusty stretch of warehouses on the outskirts of town. “There's nowhere to go here.” I frown in confusion.
“My son is coming to pick me up here,” she replies, her voice unwavering.
“Oh!”
She leans toward me. “Emma just needs a little time, that's all. This drive was a test to see if your eyes shine with love for our Emma. You passed the test, son. A fine-looking young man like you, full of passion… You'll do just fine.”
My mouth hangs open in silent shock as she unbuckles her seatbelt and practically hops out of the car. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grab the steering wheel with white knuckles, desperately trying to control the storm of emotions brewing inside me.
This is the nightmare Emma warned me about. Now, not only had I completely messed things up with her, but the entire town is already gossiping about a non-existent relationship.
Taking a few deep breaths, I force myself to open my eyes. The car behind me blares its horn, shattering the silence. Slowly, I merge back into traffic, my head pounding. The memory of the kiss lingers on my lips, a bittersweet reminder of my recklessness.
There were two reasons behind that kiss. The first is to unsettle her infuriating friends. Normally, I don’t meddle in someone's personal business unless they’re a patient on my table. But the way they tore into her, their smug smiles and thinly veiled barbs, ignited a protective streak I didn't know I possessed.
The second reason felt like a secret simmering beneath the surface. Since that day at Damon's house, I can no longer ignore that there’s a spark between us that unsettles me whenever we’re in the same room. The kiss was a test, a way to see if the feelings I felt were real.
And they were. Real enough to leave me wanting more.
That’s stupid Liam, I berate myself and step on the accelerator, speeding toward the hospital. Right now, I need work to help me clear my mind.
My rounds feel like an obstacle course today. Every face I pass seems to hold a hidden smirk, a knowing glint in their eyes. Even Mrs. Hernandez, the head nurse, greets me with a smile that stretches from ear to ear, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanor. I plaster on a smile of my own, tight and forced, and hurry past, my gaze glued to the charts in my hands.
Focus. That's what I need. Focus on the patients, their ailments, their concerns. I meticulously review their charts, triple-checking medications and treatment plans. A few patients, oblivious to the drama unfolding outside their rooms, engage in small talk. I answer their questions with forced cheer, the weight of the situation growing heavier with each passing minute.
Back in the hallway, a low murmur catches my attention. A cluster of patients and staff stand huddled together, their voices hushed yet animated. I pretend not to notice, keeping my head down and my pace steady. But the sound of laughter, a little louder than the rest, pierces the strained silence.
My office feels like my only refuge, and as soon as I get inside, I slam the door shut and sink into my chair, letting out a defeated sigh. Being examined, scrutinized—that's what it feels like.
When my door creaks open about an hour later, it’s my dad’s face that peeks in, a wide grin plastered across it.
That wide smile means trouble… “Not you, too,” I groan, burying my face in my hands.
He steps inside, his smile widening even further. “Just a few forms for you to sign, son.” I can hear the amusement in his tone.
I pick up the forms and start signing them. As I scribble on the last one, he clears his throat.
“And, uh, anything you want to talk about before you head off?”
I scoff. “There's nothing to talk about.”
“Okay.” He takes the form and heads toward the door.
Truth be told, I thought I’d be glad if he said nothing about the situation, but now, seeing him pretend to be unaware while the poorly concealed curiosity dances in his eyes, is worse.
“Dad,” I start, then stop. How could I explain the tangled mess in a few short sentences?
He must sense my hesitation. “Yes, Liam?”
“Just…” I cut him off, the frustration spilling over. “Don't pretend you don't know.”
My dad's face breaks into a massive smile. “Alright, alright, you got me.” He chuckles. “Word travels fast in this town, even faster in the hospital. So, tell me, what's going on between you and Emma Cole?”
I open my mouth to deny it, to explain the whole misunderstanding, but he raises his hand.
“You don’t have to tell me. I understand you both want to keep this a secret, but it’s out now.”
I watch him launch into his own excited narration before I can get a word in.
“The woman at the grocery store spilled the beans.” He grins, his eyes twinkling. “Said she saw you two having a lover's tiff the other night, and she said it started off with you kissing her right in the middle of Main Street! About time, son! I knew there was something there.”
Confusion clouds my face. “What if I tell you that it’s not real?”
He steps toward me, oblivious to my confusion. “Don't be shy, Liam,” he murmurs, clapping me on the shoulder, the force nearly knocking me off my chair. “You've always been a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to these things, but I'm glad you finally came around. Emma's a good girl, comes from decent folks. You two will make a great couple.”
He beams at me. He’s excited, I can see it in his eyes. There’s a twinkle in them that I haven’t seen since I was a kid and he was with us. He’s happy with this news, truly happy in a way I haven’t seen him in years.
The thought of his crushing disappointment when he learns the truth is a heavy weight in my stomach. “Dad, wait,” I stammer, trying to get a word in.
He chuckles again, a light whistle escaping his lips. “Don't worry, son,” he says, patting my back. “I’ll keep this under wraps for now,” he finishes, winking at me. “Let you two figure things out on your own. But seriously, son, good job. Took you long enough!”
He claps me on the shoulder one last time before heading for the door. “See you at home for dinner!” he throws over his shoulder, completely oblivious to the mix of emotions swirling inside me.
I’m not looking forward to ripping that joy I see in his eyes away from him anytime soon.