Page 50 of Shattered Melodies

“I know that’s how it seemed,” I said carefully. “But there’s more to it, Liam. So much more. And when you’re ready – if you’re ever ready – I’d like the chance to explain.”

For a moment, I thought he might argue further, might demand answers right then and there. But then he seemed to deflate, the anger draining out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that made my heart ache.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know if I can handle reopening all those old wounds.”

I nodded, understanding all too well. “I get it. And I won’t push. But I’m here, Liam. Whenever you decide you want to talk – if you decide you want to talk – I’ll be here.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to read my thoughts, trying to see into my soul. And then he sighed, his shoulders slumping like the fight had gone out of him.

“So,” he said, his voice tired and heavy. “What brings you back to Oakwood Grove? Besides playing hero to stray kittens, I mean.”

I felt a small, tentative smile tug at the corners of my mouth. It was an olive branch, a way to steer the conversation into safer waters. And I was grateful for it, grateful for the chance to talk about something, anything, that didn’t involve the tangled mess of our shared history.

“I never left,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “After… after everything went down, there was an emergency back home. I had to come back, and then…” I trailed off, not wanting to delve into the details of Mom’s illness. It wasn’t my story to tell, and I was relieved when Liam didn’t push for more information.

“Family stuff,” I added vaguely. “It was complicated. And then, I don’t know. This place, these people… they’re a part of me, you know? A part of who I am and who I’ve always been. It just felt right to stay.”

Liam nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. It’s funny, isn’t it? How the things we run from, the places we try so hard to leave behind… they have a way of pulling us back, of reminding us where we belong.”

I felt a pang in my chest, a sudden, sharp ache of understanding. Because I knew exactly what he meant, knew the feeling of being torn between the past and the present, between the person you were and the person you wanted to be.

It was a feeling I had grappled with every day since he had left, since the world I had built with him had come crashing down around me like a house of cards.

“So, what about you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. Trying to ignore the way my heart was pounding in my chest, the way my palms were sweating and my mouth was dry. “What brings you back to the old homestead?”

Liam’s mouth twisted into a wry, humorless smile. “Yeah, well. Turns out the high life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when you’re living it alone, without the one person who always made everything make sense.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat, felt a sudden, dizzying rush of hope and fear and something else, something I couldn’t quite name. But I pushed it down, not ready to unpack what his words might mean.

“Sounds like we’ve both been on quite a journey,” I said, aiming for a neutral tone. “It’s… it’s good to see you, Liam. Despite everything.”

And it was true, I realized. Despite the pain, despite the years of silence and unanswered questions, there was a part of me that was genuinely glad to see him. To know that he was okay, that he had found his way back to Oakwood Grove, just like I had.

But I couldn’t let myself dwell on it, couldn’t let myself get lost in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens. Because that way lay madness, lay heartbreak and regret and a whole host of things I wasn’t ready to face.

Not yet. Maybe not ever. For now, it was enough to be here, in this moment, with the weight of our shared history between us and the uncertain future stretching out ahead.

So instead, I focused on the kitten. On the tiny, innocent life that had brought us together again, after so many years of silence and distance.

“Speaking of making sense,” I said, clearing my throat and nodding towards the ball of fluff in my lap. “What are you going to do with this little guy? I mean, I’m happy to take him off your hands, if you want. I’ve got plenty of room at the ranch, and I’m sure the barn cats would love a new playmate.”

Liam looked down at the kitten, his expression softening into something that might have been tenderness, might have been affection.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I’ll keep him. It’ll be good for me, having something to take care of. Something to remind me that there’s still beauty in the world, still things worth fighting for.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat, felt a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion that I couldn’t quite name.

I stood up slowly, the kitten cradled in my arms. And then I reached into my pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper and a pen. I scribbled down my number, my hand shaking slightly as I handed it to him.

“Here,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “If you need anything, if you have any questions about taking care of the cat, or if you just want to talk feel free to use it. Or not. It’s up to you.”

Liam looked at the paper for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then he nodded, folding it carefully and tucking it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate it.”

I nodded, feeling a sudden, awkward tension settle over the room. I knew it was time for me to go, time for me to give him the space he needed to process everything that had happened.

But I couldn’t help but linger for a moment, couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him, the sound of his voice, the way his presence filled the room and made everything else fade away.

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