Page 17 of Phoenix's Redemption

"Stubborn," I murmured, half to myself, half to him.

"Look who’s talking," he retorted without missing a beat.

I resisted a small laugh bubbling up inside me. We were two sides of the same coin, fighting our battles, guarding our secrets.

By the time we reached my condo, the unease had all but dissolved. I turned the key and the lock clicked open. I stepped into my living space. Liam followed, his frame filling the doorway.

"Thanks again," I said, dropping my keys onto the table by the door. "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

He shook his head. “No way I’m leaving you alone tonight. Something's got you shaken up.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him I could take care of myself, but the memory of being watched crept back. I knew better than to dismiss my instincts. They had kept me alive more times than I cared to count.

"Alright," I conceded, exhaling slowly. "But only if you get on the couch. You need to keep your ankle elevated."

"Deal." He nodded, easing himself onto the plush fabric. His eyes never left mine, the clear jade irises reflecting care and something else harder to place.

I got a pillow and a blanket from the hall closet, handing them to him. “You want some tea?” I asked as I retreated to the kitchen.

“If you got a little whiskey to pour in it, sure.”

“Sorry, all out.”

“I’ll still take a cup. It’s pretty cold out.”

I added water to the kettle before hitting the button to start heating it up. “That reminds me, I need to bring my bay laurel inside.” I crossed the hall back to the door. I opened it, pausing as I stared out into the night. A streetlamp flickered across the street.

I heard footsteps behind me. “Everything okay out there, Soph?” Liam’s voice came from over my shoulder.

I blinked out of my trance. “Just spaced out for a second.”

Liam’s brow creased before he stepped past me to reach for my potted laurel tree. “It’s not like you. I’m a little worried.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m fine.” I stepped aside and allowed him to bring my favorite plant inside.

His face was nothing but handsome angles and skepticism as he looked at me before setting the plant down by the door.

The kettle whistled from the kitchen. “Can you lock the door for me?” I asked him before I went to grab two mugs from the cupboard. I poured the water and steeped two tea bags. The delicate aroma of chamomile soon blossomed up from the kitchen table.

Liam came and sat down. "Thank you," he said, accepting the mug. Our fingers brushed, sending a familiar warm tingle through me. He looked at me over the mug, his expression an unspoken signal that he wasn’t buying my unbothered act.

I guess it was time for me to come clean. Heart thumping again, I finished stirring honey into my tea. "Years ago, a guy mugged my dad and little sister as they were walking home. Dad ended up having a heart attack and stroke from the trauma.”

"Oh, Sophie." Liam’s voice carried sympathy. The space of a breath passed before he exhaled. “I’m sorry. No wonder you were on edge out there.”

I set the spoon down with a sigh and went on to tell the rest of the story. “I tried to get the guy. He ended up going to jail for something else, but I could never prove he was the one who came after my family.”

He shook his head. “That’s tough, and not fair. I can’t imagine what it’s like to see someone you love be hurt and not get justice for it. You were brave to go after him.”

I refused to accept his praise. “Maybe I’m just petty because I want the guy to stay locked up instead of walking the streets. I know he’ll harm somebody else. My dad is just now fully recovering.”

Liam’s hand came to rest on mine. “Wanting someone to pay for causing real harm doesn’t make you petty. It makes you human.”

My confession left me feeling exposed, but with Liam, it felt safe to let those walls crumble.

"Come here," he said, and it wasn't a command, but an offer. Our fingers intertwined naturally, as if they were meant to fit together all along. "You're not alone."

We moved closer, and the space between us became charged. His lips met mine with a tenderness.

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