Page 23 of Gravity of Love
She heard him call her name as the door closed, but she didn’t turn around. She kept walking, with each step her chest tightened, she took shallow breaths, and her legs went numb. Her brain ran laps around itself. Tears began to fill her eyes as the reality of what had just occurred settled in. Liam was in Hope Falls. Liam, who had vanished from her life without even a simple goodbye.
What happened between us is ancient history, she reminded herself.
She was a different person now—stronger, smarter, more guarded.
She’d spent years constructing mental and emotional barricades, neatly packing up all the questions she’d nevergotten to ask, putting them in a box, andburningthe box. But now she had more questions. Liam, her Liam, was Poppy’sbrother?
How was that even possible?
One thing she knew for sure: the crush she’d thought she’d gotten over was back. Oh boy, was it back. All the feelings she’d felt when he’d disappeared from her life, came crashing over her, overwhelming her. She didn’t know what to do with them. She couldn’t breathe. She needed oxygen. She needed a decade of therapy…she was really kicking herself for not using the past ten years more productively.
8
Liam Davies stood justinside the threshold of JT’s Roadhouse, absorbing the onslaught of noise and energy. The overwhelming scent of beer, sweat, cologne, perfume, and fried bar food hit him like an open hand. It was Friday night, and JT’s appeared to be operating at capacity, which to him seemed like barely controlled chaos.
His height allowed him a bird’s-eye view of the space. Instinctively, his gaze swept the room for exits, threats, and his little sister, all in the same practiced motion. It took him one scan to find Poppy and Frankie. They were in the middle of the crowd of at least forty people on the dance floor in the center of the bar doing a line dance to Beyoncé’s “Texas Hold ’Em.”
A pool table commanded the back corner, its surface worn smooth by decades of abuse and half-hearted repairs. Around it, a small group of men seemed to be arguing or heatedly debating a subject that required a lot of wild arm movements. A dining area held about a dozen or so tables where groups of people from a softball team to a bachelorette party shared pitchers of beer and cocktails. An old jukebox was the centerpiece of the far wall beside a hallway that had signage indicating that bathroomsand offices were that way. A mahogany bar ran the entire length of the building and was crowded with people vying for the attention of two men and a woman working behind it.
Liam told himself he was only there because Poppy had texted him to come out, citing “social integration” and “getting to know the people he’d be treating.” He told himself the fact that he hadn’t shown up until she posted a selfie with Frankie on her Instagram page two hours after she sent him that initial text was totally unrelated. Even he didn’t believe his own bullshit.
Navigating the crowd required maneuvering around a drunk guy in a cowboy hat trying to impress the group of bachelorettes with his lasso skills sans the rope. Once he made it to the front of the line, it took another five minutes, but he finally flagged down a bartender with a nod and a raised palm. It was six, and he gave the guy a ten for his O’Doul’s in a pint glass. He didn’t love non-alcoholic beer, but he had to be on shift in two hours, so drinking was out of the question. Which was one of the reasons he hadn’t come down there when Poppy texted him at eight.
He moved down the bar a few feet to the wall and posted up, giving him an optimal vantage point so he could keep an eye on his sister and, who was he kidding, Frankie. When she’d shown up with Poppy at his office the day before, he’d been so shocked he hadn’t known what to say or do. But after she left, he was kicking himself for not finding out, well, anything. He had no idea how long she’d be in town. How she was. How her mom was.
Liam still kept in touch with her brothers, Niko and AJ, and her mom still sent Christmas emails that he replied to, but he never asked any of them about Frankie. He didn’t feel he had a right to. He didn’t want them to askwhyhe didn’t just call her and ask. He didn’t want to explain that he felt like he couldn’t since she was engaged to his brother, and it wouldn’t be appropriate.
He sipped his beer and watched as Frankie’s head fell back as she laughed with his sister. He couldn’t audibly hear the laugh, but in his head, it was loud and clear. He may not have heard it in over a decade, but it was a sound he’d never forget.
Even all these years later, Frankie’s laugh would randomly get stuck in his head the same way some songs would, like an earworm. Her laugh was a string of happy bells–light and melodic. It had a unique cadence—starting soft, then building, building, building, before tapering off to a breathless hum that made his entire body warm and relaxed but also utterly alive. It was like the sun coming out on a gloomy day, it chased away his dark clouds. Over the past ten years, during some of his darker times, he thought he could live on her laugh alone, that it was all the proof he’d ever need that the world wasn’t completely fucked.
He was so lost in the memory of her laugh that he didn’t notice the stunning brunette with green eyes, full lips, and killer curves showcased in a form-fitting Hope Falls softball tee, worn jeans, hip cocked, and eyebrow arched that had sidled up to the bar beside him, with her body angled in his direction. She reminded him of someone, but he just couldn’t put his finger on who it was. She had the kind of confident, magnetic demeanor that said,I know you’re watching, and I don’t care. She ordered a whiskey neat, then turned her full attention on him, smiling with a sensuality that was natural, not put on.
“You’re the new doctor in town, right?” she asked, her voice barely audible with the music, talking, laughing, and drinks being mixed around them.
Liam acknowledged her with a nod and then turned his attention back to the dance floor. It was the bare minimum required in a response, but she didn’t seem put off. In fact, she leaned in a little closer to him, her perfume cutting through the spilled beer and floor cleaner. She proceeded to carry ona conversation, and he politely nodded in the right places, but his eyes kept tracking back to Frankie and Poppy. Neither had spotted him yet—both were too busy doing choreographed movements with three dozen or so other dance partners.
From this angle, he was only able to catch glimpses of Frankie between shoulders and heads. Her five-foot-nothing height made it difficult to keep eyes on her. Luckily, she was beside Poppy, who was wearing a red shirt and was five foot six, giving him a point of reference easy to clock.
“…who stitched up Johnny Cooper’s hand after the chainsaw accident?”
Hearingchainsaw accidentcaught his attention. He leaned down, his eyes still trained on the dance floor. “What?”
The brunette rose up onto tiptoes. Her hair brushed against his face as her lips grazed the cusp of his ear. “I said, ‘Weren’t you the doctor who stitched up Johnny Cooper’s hand after the chainsaw accident’?’”
That’s what he thought she’d said. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. He knew why she’d reminded him of someone, but he hadn’t been able to place her.
“I was.”
“I brought him in. Alani,” she reintroduced herself.
Alani was a promo model and happened to be working when Johnny had his accident, both her costume and the injury, which was gnarly, were branded into Liam’s memory. He had to reattach three fingers because it happened during a snowstorm, and the surgeon was unable to get to the hospital. Coming out and speaking to Wonder Woman post-surgery about aftercare when it wasn’t Halloween stuck in his mind.
“And you’reDr. Dreamy.” Alani placed her hand on his chest.
“Dr. Davies,” he corrected her out of habit. He hated that nickname and did not want it following him to Hope Falls. “Liam, actually. How’s Johnny doing?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” She lowered her arm. “We broke up six months ago.”
