Page 31 of Liam James
Every part of me knew he did.
My throat felt tight, and I had to swallow twice before I could get the words out. “I love you too,” I whispered, the truth slipping free like it had been waiting for the right moment all along.
His smile was slow, soft around the edges. Then he reached over, threading his fingers through mine, his hand warm and solid like an anchor.
We sat there for a long time, saying nothing else because nothing else needed saying.
Through the open window behind us, I could hear Poppy’s steady breathing. No nightmares tonight. No crying. Just sleep.
Maybe for the first time in her life, she felt safe.
Liam’s thumb brushed across my knuckles. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “The job, the mountain, all of it. But I want you here. Both of you.”
Both of you.
Not just me.
Not just her.
Us.
I leaned into his shoulder, breathing him in, letting the weight of the last few days finally ease off my chest.
Inside, Poppy stirred. A moment later, she made her way out onto the porch, rubbing her eyes.
She looked at us sleepily, sitting down between us. “You’re not going away, right?”
Liam’s arm tightened around her. “No, sweetheart. Not going anywhere.”
She nodded like that was enough, laying her head against his arm.
I watched them together—this quiet, solid man and the girl who had already been through too much—and something deep inside me settled for the first time in years.
This was home.
Maybe not the kind with walls and windows.
But the kind with arms that held you when the world fell apart.
Epilogue— Jenny
Three months later
The mountain was alive with summer. Wildflowers climbed the hillsides, bees hummed lazily around the porch, and Poppy’s laughter carried from the yard where she ran barefoot through the grass with Forest’s dog chasing at her heels. Like she was five years old. I don’t think the first twelve years of her life was ever easy and carefree.
I leaned against the railing, coffee in hand, watching her spin in a circle, arms stretched wide like she was trying to hug the sky.
She laughed now.
All the time.
The nightmares had faded to whispers, fewer and further between. The sadness was still there on some days, but it no longer defined her.
And maybe that was true for me, too.
The hospital had offered me my old position back. I’d taken it—on my terms this time. Part-time, with longer stretches at home. The mountains were only two hours from the city, close enough for both lives to fit, for once.
The screen door creaked, and Liam stepped out beside me, his arm sliding around my shoulders. He smelled like sawdust and sunshine, the kind of man who fixed fences in the morning and held you like the world might end at night.
