Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
His voice breaks, and my chest tightens. “Liam,” I whisper, stepping closer. “You don’t have to—”
“I couldn’t save them all,” he cuts me off, his voice rough. “Some of those kids didn’t make it. That was my last month in the service. My last mission. Hell of a way to end things.”
My heart aches as I watch him. This strong, stoic man, who has spent his life protecting others, carrying the weight of something no one should ever have to bear. Without thinking, I reach out, my fingers brushing his arm. He stiffens at first, then relaxes, just enough for me to feel the tension in his muscles.
“That’s the day I busted up my knee with shrapnel. I’m lucky to be alive, some days I think…” he trails off, gaze hanging on something beyond my shoulder, “sometimes I think God made a mistake letting me see another day.”
“Oh, Liam, I’m sorry,” I say softly, wrapping him in the tightest hug I can manage. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He glances at me, his eyes dark and stormy. “I don’t talk about it much.”
“I can see why,” I murmur. “But Liam…God saved you for a reason, even if you don’t know what it is yet, you have to trust that.”
“I’m starting to think it’s so I could save you,” he admits softly.
I let his words linger, feeling the full force of them in my veins. “Me too–I might not be here without you.” I hug him again, murmuring into his chest, “I’m so glad you’re here, in my arms, and not over there anymore.”
His lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. “Feels like I am, some nights.”
My fingers trail down his arm to his hand. He lets me, doesn’t pull away. “You’re here now. With me. And you’re still protecting people. That says something.”
His eyes soften, just a fraction. “You think so?”
“I know so,” I say, my voice firm. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. And not just because you can reinforce a barn with your bare hands.”
That earns a small chuckle, low and rough, but it’s enough to break the tension. He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to where my hand rests against his.
“You’re something else, Callie Baker,” he mutters.
“And you’re impossible,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood. “But I think I’m getting used to it.”
He smirks, but the warmth in his eyes betrays him. “Careful. You might start liking me.”
I arch a brow. “Might?”
His smirk widens, but before he can reply, the barn door creaks open. Rocky, his ever-loyal companion, saunters in, tail wagging. Liam crouches down, scratching behind his ears. I laugh softly, bending down beside him to scratch Rocky’s other ear. “He’s a good boy.”
“The best,” Liam agrees, his voice softer now. He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “And he’s got your back too.”
The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Liam straightens, holding out a hand to help me up. I take it, and the rough warmth of his palm against mine sends a shiver down my spine.
“Come on,” he says, his voice gruff again. “We’ve got more work to do.”
The cabin is quiet that night, save for the soft crackle of the fire. I sit on the couch, my knees tucked under me, watching Liam as he moves around the kitchen. He’s making tea, his movements deliberate and sure, like he’s done this a thousand times.
“You don’t strike me as a tea guy,” I say, breaking the silence.
He glances at me over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not. This is for you.”
Something warm and unfamiliar settles in my chest. “Thanks.”
He brings the mug over, handing it to me before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. The distance feels intentional, but his gaze never leaves mine.
“You’re thinking too much,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact.
I arch a brow. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I do it too.” He leans back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You’re worrying about things you can’t control.”
“Like what?” I challenge, taking a sip of the tea.
“Like who’s behind all this,” he says, nodding toward the barn. “And what they’ll do next.”
I don’t respond, because he’s right. Instead, I stare into my mug, the tea swirling like the storm in my mind.
“Callie,” he says, his voice softer now. “You’re safe here.”
I look up at him, his dark eyes steady and unwavering. “I know.”
“Do you?” he presses, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “Because I mean it. No one’s getting to you. Not while I’m around.”
The conviction in his voice sends a shiver through me, and for the first time in days, I feel the smallest flicker of peace. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, leaning back again, his gaze never leaving mine. “Get some rest,” he says gruffly. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.”