He pulls back and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear with such practised tenderness I forget how afraid I was a second ago.
Then, with ice in his voice:
“Now get the fuck out of my house.”
For a moment, I don’t react. Can’t. My mind doesn’t know which version of him to obey – the one who kisséd me, or the one who just shoved me out of his life.
My hands move automatically, my feet following like they belong to someone else.
As I descend the stairs, careful not to slip on shattered glass or shattered pride, all I can think is-
If I had gone to the game, he’d still want me.
This is my fault.
Love just looks like this sometimes.
A second later, my body loses the battle.
I black out and tumble down the stairs.
When the memory finally fades, I can feel Liam’s hands are in my hair again, gentle and unhurried. He tugs loose the braid I’d made that morning and presses his forehead to mine.
It should be a perfect moment. It’s soft. It’s safe. He smells like
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aftershave and sun and something bitter I can’t place. He’s not asking anything of me just being with me. Just seeing me.
And still, I flinch.
—
—
It’s small, barely a twitch – but I feel it. And worse, so does he.
His hands still instantly. “Did I hurt you?”
My lips part, but no sound comes out. I shake my head too fast, too hard. “No. No, you didn’t.”
But something inside me is screaming.
I pull away, just enough to create space, and‘ wrap my arms around myself. Like I’m trying to hold myself together.
Liam doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches me, his expression unreadable–but kind. Always kind.
And then he asks, gently, “Did someone else?”
My breath leaves me.
I nod once.
My throat burns with the memory, with the sound of Zane’s voice echoing in my skull, the feel of the floorboards under my feet as I fell on the glass and swallowed my pride. Again and again and again.
My chest tightens, my voice barely a breath. “I don’t know how to let someone love me if I don’t hate myself first.”
That breaks something in the silence.
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Liam sits up, gently pulling me with him. He cups my face in his hands not forcefully, not demandingly – just so I’ll look at
him.
—
His thumbs wipe away my tears. His voice breaks.
“You never have to earn love, Emilia. Not mine. Not anyone’s. You are not too much, and you are not broken. You were hurt. And I swear to you, I will never use your hurt as a weapon.”
And then, slowly – like the sea turning calm after a storm – he leans in and presses the softest kiss to my forehead. It’s not hungry like yesterday’s. Or claiming like it was a moment ago. Just… present.
“I don’t want you to give me the pieces of you that you think are lovable,” he whispers into my hair. “I want all of you. Even the scared parts. Especially the scared parts.”
I break then. But not the way I used to alone, hollowed out, empty.
This time, I fall apart into someone’s arms.
And I realise ever since I met him, I haven’t had to hold myself together all on my own.
Liam pats my head gently as I cry, like I’m something delicate. I sniff and squint up at him through wet lashes. “Stop that.”
He grins, completely unfazed. “Why would I? This is prime. patting real estate.” He leans in, buries his face in my hair, and inhales dramatically. “God, I love your hair. I love getting lost in your curls when I kiss you. And you always smell so sweet–do you use cookie–scented perfume or something?”
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I blink at him. “On my hair?”
He shrugs like it’s a perfectly reasonable question and resumes patting me, looking proud of himself. “Cam uses cologne on his. Honestly, I don’t question anything anymore.”
I laugh, a soft hiccup of sound that loosens something tight in my chest. “He’s kind of a weirdo.”
“You have no idea,” Liam says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hand stays in my hair, warm and steady. I should pull away, but I don’t. I lean into it instead.
“I talked to my brother’s ex,” I say quietly, the moment turning softer. “Adrian.”
“Yeah? Was he cool?”
“The sweetest. And kind of a computer wizard. So I asked if he could help dig up dirt on Stone.” My voice drops a little, like if I say it too loudly, it might jinx it. Liam’s fingers drift down from my hair to my cheek, slow and tender, brushing the edge of my jaw before settling right above my collarbone.
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