Page 11 of The Blacksmith's Heart
Chapter Seven
Callie
The barn smells faintly of paint and pine shavings, the kind of clean-up job that leaves behind traces of chaos no matter how thorough you are. I run my hands along the edge of the new windows Liam installed this morning. Reinforced glass. Unbreakable, he said. His way of silently promising me that no one is getting through to destroy what I’m building again.
My fingers linger on the cool surface when I hear his boots on the gravel outside. He steps into the barn, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, and I swear the temperature shifts. Liam Grayson doesn’t just walk into a room; he consumes it.
“Cameras are set up.” His voice is low, steady, the kind of voice you lean into, whether you mean to or not. “Sheriff’s gonna pull the footage if anything else happens.”
I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Thank you.”
He glances at me, his eyes lingering a second too long. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still figuring out how to make sure you sleep at night without worrying.”
I smile faintly, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. “You’re good at this. Protecting people.”
His jaw tightens. “It’s just…what I do.”
Something in his tone makes me pause. He’s always gruff, sure, but this is different. There’s weight in his words, a heaviness I don’t think he meant to let slip. I step closer, catching his gaze. “Where does that come from? That instinct to protect everyone?”
He looks away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. For a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off, but then he exhales, long and slow, and leans back against the barn wall.
“Afghanistan,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “I was in my last month of deployment. We were stationed near a school…trying to keep the area secure so the kids could learn without worrying about getting caught in crossfire.”
His words are calm, but his eyes—his eyes are miles away, somewhere darker.
“There was an attack,” he continues. “A kid, no older than eight, walked right up to the school gates. He had a vest strapped to his chest.” He pauses, his hand gripping the brim of his hat so tightly I think it might snap. “We didn’t see it until it was too late. I tried to get him away, tried to shield the other kids…”
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 onsomething 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.”
