Page 76 of Our Radiant Embers

“Guess we better turn in.” His voice was a murmur, steady like the sea.

Yeah.

Move. I did. Said goodnight and headed out the door, closed it softly behind me and didn’t glance back.

My own bedroom was further along the same hallway, with one big window instead of multiple smaller ones. I always kept some clothes in the built-in wardrobe, its white-stained wood echoing the marine vibe, so I’d packed lightly. After dropping my backpack on the floor, I opened the window wide enough for fresh air to waft through the space. It carried the faint smell of seaweed, and I took a deep breath, my pulse slowing down.

God, it was good to be here. It had been too long.

I brushed my teeth in the sink in my room, right next to the door, and fell into bed with heavy bones and a light heart.

* * *

The next morning, I didn’t wake to an alarm but to sunlight filtering through the curtains of my room. When I wandered downstairs, I found Liam already out on the terrace. Bundled up in a jacket, he was sipping from a cup of coffee.

“Please tell me that’s not instant,” I said by way of a greeting.

He tipped his head back, eyes sleepy and smile the colour of the morning sky. “It’s not instant.”

“Did you just lie to me?”

“Only following instructions.”

“Since when?”

He opened his mouth, then paused for a grin that lit his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a fair question.”

I like you way too much.

No. This getaway was meant to be light and easy, and I would bloody make it so. Reality couldn’t touch us here.

“I’ll make myself a proper coffee,” I told Liam, turning to head back into the kitchen. “Shout if you want something that doesn’t taste like hiking boots soaked in dishwater.”

A small huff of laughter followed me inside. “You should have been a poet.”

“Behold!” I flicked on the coffee machine and raised my voice so it carried back to him. “Your coffee is a murky abyss! Truly, a brew of shadows and misery, filtered through the socks of a hateful sprite.”

“Sure, yeah.” Liam had risen to lean against the doorframe, watching me with eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Each sip is a test of fortitude—my very own hero’s journey.”

“I get the sense you’re not taking this very seriously.”

“I’m treating it with all the seriousness it deserves. That just happens to be very little.” He dipped his head for a small sip, then grimaced. “Although this really is quite bad, I’ll give you that.”

“Say please, and I’ll make you a better one.”

It pinged a distant echo of a different day, the two of us in my office, how he’d pushed my buttons until I’d wanted to damn near strangle him.

‘How do you not choke on all that arrogance?’

‘I’d rather see you choke on my dick.’

‘You didn’t say please.’

“Please,” Liam said, dark and low. Our gazes caught, time measured by the ticking clock above the fridge, by the wind rustling in the bushes outside.

But he didn’t want to be my secret.

I smiled. “Coming right up. As soon as you pour that”—I nodded at his cup—“down the drain.”

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