Chapter Thirty Maggie
Chapter Thirty
Maggie
Standing on Liam’s front porch, my nerves feel like live wires, sparking with every passing second.
The crisp mountain air bites at my cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the cold pit in my stomach.
Meeting his family under normal circumstances would be nerve-wracking enough, but after that scathing phone call from Janowicz, I’m teetering on the edge.
His words still echo in my mind, sharp and relentless.
“I don’t care if he’s doping or not. You have a story, Maggie.
Use it.” He didn’t even bother hiding his indifference to the truth.
For him, it’s about clicks, headlines, and getting our paper noticed.
It doesn’t matter that Liam’s name and reputation are on the line.
It doesn’t matter that every fiber of my being is screaming that Liam is innocent.
Janowicz wants the story, and if I don’t deliver? My job is on the chopping block.
I glance over at Liam as he pulls open the heavy wooden door.
He doesn’t notice my hesitation, his focus already shifting to the voices filtering through the house.
For a moment, I envy his ability to compartmentalize—he’s juggling a scandal that could ruin his career, yet here he is, holding the door for me, steady as ever.
But I’m not steady. My career and his future feel like they’re colliding in a way I didn’t see coming. If I write the story, I betray the man I’m starting to fall for. If I don’t, I lose the job I’ve worked years to build.
Liam glances back, his brow furrowing slightly as he notices my hesitation. “You okay?” he asks. He’s patient and calm in a way that only makes my heart ache more.
I nod, forcing a smile I hope looks convincing. “Yeah,” I manage. But inside, everything is threatening to pull me under. As I follow him inside, I wonder if I’m about to find the strength to fight for him—or if I’ll have to let him go to save myself.
The warmth of the house wraps around me like a comforting embrace.
The rich, inviting aroma of coffee mingles with the unmistakable scent of something sweet baking in the oven.
The hum of conversation and bursts of laughter echo through the entryway, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing in my mind.
Peace. The air here is heavy with it, a sad reminder of what was missing in my own childhood.
Liam steps aside to let me take it all in.
There must be twenty people crammed into the kitchen and living room.
Kids weave between legs, laughing and playing, their energy filling every corner of the space.
Adults talk over one another, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of familial chaos.
“Wow,” I whisper, taking a step closer to Liam.
He clears his throat, but no one notices. A grin tugs at his lips. “Hang tight,” he murmurs to me before raising his voice. “Guys!”
The room quiets, heads turning toward us, and suddenly, I’m under a dozen curious gazes. My pulse quickens, but before I can overthink it, a voice calls out from the kitchen.
“Margaret!”
Jenny, Liam’s mom, appears from behind the crowd, her arms spread wide as she strides toward me. Her warmth is immediate and disarming. Before I can say anything, she wraps me in a tight hug, holding on as if we’ve known each other forever.
“I should have known it was you,” she says, pulling back just enough to beam at me. Her eyes are kind, her smile filled with genuine affection.
“Me?” I manage, caught between nerves and surprise.
“Yes, you,” Jenny says, her hands still on my shoulders. “He’s been smitten ever since he first mentioned you. And then he said you were a journalist. Should have known.”
My cheeks heat as I glance at Liam, who’s rubbing the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his face. His family watches us closely, amused smiles playing on their faces.
“You’re just in time,” Jenny says, stepping back and gesturing toward the bustling kitchen. “We’re about to put the finishing touches on breakfast. Come, sit. Make yourself at home.”
The room bursts back into chatter as everyone resumes their conversations, but I can feel the curiosity lingering in the air. Liam nudges me gently. “Margaret?”
I nod, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “Long story,” I whisper. But the warmth of Jenny’s welcome doesn’t fully drown out the gnawing guilt and uncertainty swirling inside me. Not yet.
“You can tell me later,” Liam says with a teasing wink before his cousin, Izzy, steps forward, her sharp green eyes sparkling with curiosity.
She extends her hand with a welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you, Margaret.”
“It’s Maggie,” I correct quickly, shaking her hand. “Margaret’s my full name.”
Izzy nods knowingly, but before she can say more, Liam’s sister, Mia, sidles up beside her, wearing a grin that spells trouble. “So,” She begins, her tone light but laced with amusement. “You were totally snooping around for dirt on my brother when you showed up at The Gallery, weren’t you?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I… I mean…”
“It’s fine.” Mia waves me off with a casual flick of her wrist, clearly unbothered.
“We have journalists in the family. We get it. Let me introduce you to Jack and Ava. Jack runs the Windwood Times, and Ava’s been trying to step back from operations.
If you’re ever looking for a new gig, I know they’d–”
“Mia,” Liam interrupts, his voice carrying a low warning growl. “Don’t.”
“What?” Mia feigns innocence, her eyebrows lifting as she holds her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, if things go sideways, Maggie should know her options.”
“Mia,” Liam says again, this time sharper, his jaw tightening. His protectiveness is unmistakable, and while part of me feels guilty for the reason I came here, another part is grateful for the barrier he’s putting up.
“I’m kidding,” Mia says with a cheeky grin, clearly unrepentant. She nudges me lightly on the arm. “But seriously, come meet Jack and Ava. They’re in the kitchen strategizing. They’ll want to hear what you’ve uncovered so far.”
I glance at Liam, unsure. He gives me a small nod, his expression softening. “They’re good people. They just want to help.”
With that, I follow Mia into the kitchen, trying to ignore the way my stomach twists at the thought of presenting what little I’ve found so far. All the while, Liam stays close, a steady presence that I’m growing more and more thankful for with each passing moment.
Jack has golden-brown hair, neatly combed, and an air of quiet authority. Ava, on the other hand, is stunning, with long dark hair that frames her oval-shaped face in soft waves. There’s a spark in her eyes that suggests she’s as sharp as she is beautiful.
“Jack and Ava,” Mia announces, nudging me forward like a parent introducing their kid at show-and-tell. “This is Maggie.”
Jack offers me a polite nod, his expression skeptical. “A fellow journalist. Nice to meet you.”
Ava snorts, rolling her eyes as she swats Jack lightly on the arm. “Ignore him. He’s not usually this formal.”
I smile, feeling a little more at ease. “You’re Liam’s cousin, right?” I ask, hoping to ease into the conversation.
“I am,” Ava replies, motioning toward two middle-aged men standing by the coffee maker, bickering over how strong to brew the next pot. “Our dads are brothers.”
“Ah,” I nod, glancing at the men, who both look like slightly older versions of Liam in different ways. It’s easy to see the family resemblance.
“And I’m Jack,” Ava’s husband chuckles before shifting the conversation with a pointed question. “Do you have anything that might help us?”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their attention.
“We received an anonymous tip a few days ago,” I begin.
“My editor handed it to me because he had to deal with some personal issues. At first, I wasn’t sure there was much to go on, but as I started digging into Liam’s online presence, I noticed a pattern. ”
Jack leans forward slightly, his journalist instincts clearly kicking in. “What kind of pattern?”
“Stories about Liam’s personal life started leaking about a year and a half ago,” I explain, my voice steady. “Right around the time…”
“When you started dating Lyla,” Ava interjects, glancing at Liam with a knowing look.
Liam corrects her immediately, his tone firm. “When Lyla and I started having issues in our relationship.”
Ava arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “So, you had issues the whole time then?”
I step in quickly to redirect the conversation before it veers too far off track.
“What we need to figure out is whether there’s any correlation between those leaks and the anonymous tip,” I say.
“I have one of my coworkers reaching out to his contacts to see if they can trace where the tip originated.”
As I finish speaking, I feel Liam’s hand settle lightly on my lower back.
At first, my body tenses, unsure of his intentions, but then his thumb rubs slow, soothing circles against my spine.
The small gesture steadies me, and I find myself leaning into his touch, drawing strength from his quiet reassurance.
Jack exchanges a look with Ava before turning back to me. “If you’re onto something, we might be able to help dig deeper. Ava and I have access to a lot of local records and sources. Between all of us, we should be able to piece this puzzle together.”
“Let’s get to work, then,” Ava says decisively, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“I have to get back to the lodge,” Liam interjects. “I have to take a drug test and I have one final run down the mountain.”
“Go, go!” Ava waves him off dramatically, shooing him like a mother hen.
But Liam doesn’t budge. “I need to speak with Maggie for a moment,” he says. “Then she’s all yours.”
The room erupts with teasing whistles and exaggerated kissy noises. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, the heat crawling up my neck.
Liam, however, lets it roll off his shoulders like it’s nothing, flashing a lopsided grin as he grabs my hand and leads the way back to the front door.
He opens it, stepping aside for me to pass through first. I step onto the chilly porch, the crisp air nipping at my cheeks and the sounds from inside muffled as the door clicks shut behind us.
“Are you going to be okay here?” he asks, softer now, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as if anchoring himself.
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’ll be fine.”
“They’re a lot,” he says with a faint smile, glancing back toward the door. “But I trust them with my life.”
“Then so do I,” I reply despite the fluttering in my chest.
For a moment, there’s silence. The kind that feels thick with unspoken words. Liam’s eyes catch mine, deep pools of warm chocolate, drawing me in like a secret I want to uncover. He takes a step closer, and the world narrows to just the two of us.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.
“Sorry for what?” I tilt my head, caught off guard.
His throat bobs as he swallows. “For looking through your phone. The messages started popping up when I plugged it in, and… I just reacted. I shouldn’t have. Just because they were about me doesn’t mean I had the right.” He exhales heavily, his breath clouding in the chilly air. “I was wrong.”
His apology tugs at something deep inside me. “Thank you for apologizing,” I say quietly, my chest tightening at the vulnerability in his eyes.
“Truth is,” he continues, stepping closer, the space between us shrinking until there’s barely a whisper left, “I’m kind of glad someone sent that fake tip.”
My heart skips. “You’re glad?”
His hands leave his pockets, and he reaches up to gently trace a finger along my cheek, his touch so light it feels like a dream. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs. “However it happened, I’m glad it brought you to me.”
I forget how to breathe as his fingers slide along my jaw, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He leans in slowly, his gaze locked on mine, giving me every chance to pull away. But I don’t. I can’t.
When his lips finally meet mine, it’s like a fuse ignites.
The kiss is slow but electric, his mouth moving against mine with a tenderness that sends a shiver down my spine.
I press closer, my fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, as if holding on to him might steady the world spinning beneath me.
His hands settle on my hips, pulling me flush against him. The heat between us intensifies, the air around us charged and crackling. When we finally pull apart, breathless, his forehead rests against mine, and I feel the steady thrum of his heart in sync with my own.
“I don’t want you to go,” I whisper, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
“I don’t want to leave,” he admits. “But I have to finish this. And then… we’ll figure everything else out. Okay?”
I nod, my hand sliding down his arm to squeeze his. “Okay.”
He presses a final, lingering kiss to my forehead before stepping back, the cold rushing in where his warmth had been. And as I watch him walk to his car, I realize that no matter what happens next, part of me will always be here—with him.