Raising The Stakes (Heartwarming Romance) (17 page)

She leaned forward and grasped Liam’s hand. It tensed in her grip, then gradually relaxed until his fingers twined in hers.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I can’t live in a box. Not anymore.”

Liam studied her from beneath his thick lashes. “No. But I won’t always be around to make sure you’re okay.”

The harsh truth pierced her joy. “I know.” She wouldn’t be afraid anymore. But without Liam, she’d be torn apart, a piece of her missing...one she hadn’t known existed. What choice did she have, though, but to let him go? She loved him, she realized, but it made no difference.

“Let’s have all of the bachelors up here for the garter toss!” hollered Aiden.

Giggling, Mary Ann extended her leg while her groom slid off the scrap of cloth and twirled it over his head. A rowdy beat pulsed in the room. The attendees stomped their feet and whistled loudly enough to turn Mary Ann’s cheeks a bright pink as she yanked down her skirt.

“Aren’t you going up there?”

Liam peered up from their joined hands. “No point. I won’t steal a chance from a guy who wants to get married.”

She lifted her eyebrow, unable to stop herself from teasing him, despite the painful reminder of his words. “So you believe in superstitions? Guess that means I’m getting hitched, then.”

His fingers gripped hers, hard. “Not you, Vivie. Not a chance.”

Pressure built in her chest. Since her attack, she’d written off marriage, believing she’d never let anyone close enough. Now, after conquering her fears yesterday, she knew better.

“What do you mean? I have no chance of getting married? Wouldn’t make someone a good wife? Am—am I damaged goods or something?” Her ragged voice sounded as ripped up as she felt. For so long she’d felt that way about herself. Was it possible he saw her that way, too? She closed her eyes, wishing she were home again, her pets huddled beside her. She loved Liam, but he’d never feel the same way.

He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her. “Vivie. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Just not you.”

He tipped her chin up and his eyes searched hers. “Would you want to be married to someone like me?”

She thought about his traveling. How no sooner would she get settled, start another business, then he’d uproot them again. It was the life she’d led growing up. One she’d vowed never to repeat. Liam might not want to grow attached to things, but she needed connections. Not to keep her safe anymore, but to make her complete. She desperately wished Liam could be part of that.

When she shook her head, his mouth tightened, the hopeful light in his eyes fading.

“Then we understand each other.”

“Too well,” she murmured, wishing with all her heart that they didn’t.

The ringing of a utensil on glass hushed the exuberant group. Liam’s twin, Niall, lowered the garter he’d just caught and all turned to Liam’s mother, Agnes. She waved a goblet.

“Shouldn’t we have a song from Liam?”

Heads swiveled their way and Vivie turned to face a motionless Liam, the color drained from his face.

Mary Ann hustled to her mother and led her to the kitchen, the double doors swinging closed behind them. When the guest chatter resumed, Vivie shot Liam a sidelong glance. He seemed far away, his thoughts inward, taking him to some disturbing place.

She touched his tense biceps.

“Hey. What happened there?”

He seemed to return to himself with a start, peering at her fingers, then back up to her. “I used to sing. Now I don’t.”

His silence pressed around them, heavy and thick.

“So that’s it? No explanation?”

“It’s not something I talk about. Let’s leave it at that. Would you like a soda?” He half rose and she pulled him down.

“No. You opened up to me about Kunar. Why do I think this is related? That you left something out?”

“It doesn’t make a difference.” He untied a gauze bag filled with candy-coated almonds and held it out to her. “Want one?”

She grabbed the candy and dropped it on the table. “Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Why are you pushing it?” He stared at her, hard, but she wouldn’t look away. Wasn’t backing down. Somehow this was important. She could sense it.

“You said once you wanted me to know you. This is part of it. Good or bad.”

After a long, tense moment, his head lowered and he released a pent-up breath. “After my dad died, I took odd jobs and saved up for a guitar so I could teach myself to play. Music was the only thing, in my big family, that was just mine. It took me away from our problems for a little while. Let me stop thinking about my mom’s health, our money issues, missing my dad. It was an escape.”

She waited for more, holding her tongue. The pink and purple flowers in the table arrangement had started to droop and she plucked one, twirling it in her fingers.

At last, he continued. “When I was deployed, I sang for my unit. It helped take us away. Forget our fears. Missing home.”

She traced his arm with her fingers, hoping her touch would reassure the courageous veteran. “It must have comforted them. You, too.”

“It did.”

“Until...”

He grabbed the water pitcher on the table, filled a glass and drank. After a long gulp, he set it down and ran his finger around the cup’s rim.

“Kunar. The siege. Eventually nothing helped. Made any difference.”

“You sang there.”

He lifted haunted eyes to hers. “Yes, when we weren’t taking fire, being picked off. It was the only thing that kept us going. Out there, we were scared of not going home. We didn’t know if we’d see tomorrow. But I had to be brave for myself, for my country, for my family, for my friends. When I was afraid, music was there.”

She rubbed his arm, feeling the bumps that had risen on his skin. “And you shared it with your fellow soldiers, too.”

He sipped more water and she noticed the liquid tremble in the glass.

“That gave them some peace, Liam. Don’t you see that?”

“They still died. Almost all of them.”

“Isn’t it better that they at least had some songs from home—during their last days?”

His hazel eyes shimmered, a kaleidoscope of color and pain, before he slid them away. “They liked it when we sang ‘Born in the USA’ really loud, hoping the insurgents could hear. It was Jim’s idea.”

She smiled at him. “I bet it gave them courage. You gifted them with that, Liam. Your singing wasn’t pointless. It moved people. Affected how they felt and thought. You made a difference. Maybe not with your gun but with your voice.”

His gaze flashed to her. “That’s what you think?”

“That’s what I know. When I almost—” She paused and reflexively drew away from remembering the pain. But she was surprised to find those memories held a bearable ache, not the deep hurt she’d expected. “On my Alive Day, I only heard myself crying and the men. Terrible things I would never want to be my last memories. But you, you gave your friends music and that is the most beautiful thing you could have done for them. I would have given anything to hear music. Sung instead of screamed.”

He pulled her to him roughly, burying his hands in her hair so that the pins came loose and the mass tumbled down her back. “Vivie,” he began, his voice hoarse. “There’s a lot I want to say to you—it’s impossible, I know, but—”

A flash of lace appeared beside them.

“Sorry, guys. Mom’s having a meltdown. She went upstairs, found Liam’s old guitar and keeps insisting he sing.”

In the far corner, Aiden and a woman who resembled Agnes talked gently to Liam’s agitated parent. She clutched the guitar to her chest and tears flowed down her lined cheeks.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there any way...” Mary Ann’s voice trailed off and Liam’s chair scraped back.

“Yes. On one condition.”

“Anything,” Mary Ann said, looking shocked and elated.

“Vivie sings with me.”

* * *

L
IAM
KISSED
HIS
mother’s damp cheek and eased his guitar from her grip. Her clear-eyed happiness soothed the deep burning inside. Vivie had a point. His music did make a difference. If it made his mother feel better, smoothed over this bump in the reception, then it was worth reliving the past. And maybe the past was something he needed to face, as Vivie had last night.

When he and Vivie approached the band area there was brief applause followed by an attentive hush.

He plucked two notes and felt the audience lean toward them. He touched a string and began to tune the instrument. It was not the finest guitar. He hadn’t been able to afford a better one at the time. Its neck was nicked. One of the pegs was loose and prone to going out of tune, he recalled.

He brushed a soft chord and tipped his ear to the strings. As he glanced up, he glimpsed Vivie’s face, clear as the moon. She smiled excitedly and the soft light in her eyes made his heart squeeze.

He touched the loose peg gently, running his hands over the warm wood. The varnish was scraped and scuffed in places, but that didn’t make it less precious to him.

So, yes. It had flaws, but what did that matter when it came to things you treasured? Vivie had called herself damaged goods and he could say the same about himself. Yet, did that mean they couldn’t be loved...find love...together?

Anyone could love someone perfect. Whole. That was easy. But to love someone scarred. Wounded. To know the flaws and love them, too. That was rare and pure and perfect. Could he and Vivie share that?

He adjusted another string and pictured his old bunk mate, Roger, asking him for some Bon Jovi, Pete wanting more Journey. How both of them, and the rest of his unit, had sung along or closed their eyes, remembered better times. He had brought them peace at the end and the thought soothed a jagged part of him that had scraped his heart raw.

At last, he moved a finger and the chord went minor in a way that sounded a bit sad. He moved his hands again and this time two chords sang with each other. Then, without a plan, he began to play.

The strings felt foreign to his fingers, like old friends meeting up again. He played soft and slow, sending notes to the edge of the circle gathered around them. Fingers and strings worked together carefully, as if this tender bond might be broken at any moment.

Then he felt something inside him open and music poured into the quiet. His fingers danced, intricate and quick. The music moved like a maple key spinning to the forest floor, dandelion fluff floating on a summer breeze. It felt as if it carried his time in Kunar with it, along with the anguished waiting, the heart-stopping fear, the despair that he’d never make it out.

At last, he slipped into a familiar tune, a love song Mary Ann had played endlessly when they’d grown up. Her eyes smiled at him and Vivie joined him in a duet. Her voice was honey smooth, a light soprano that complemented his baritone perfectly. They sang as though they’d done so together forever, each one taking turns weaving harmonic lines, supporting the melody and sometimes carrying it for the other. The moment was the sharpest, sweetest he’d ever known.

He felt the heat of her beside him. Breathed in the summer-rain and meadow-flower scent of her. Listened to the tender fluttering of her voice. It was beautiful. His eyes kept returning to her as she sat on a stool, arms hugging her knees.

At last the song ended, the final chord ringing in the silence, and after a bit, it slowly began to dawn on Liam that he’d been staring at Vivie for an awkward amount of time. But she didn’t seem offended or amused. She studied his face, as if she was waiting.

He wanted to take her somewhere private. Brush her cheek with his fingertips. Tell her that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. That the sight of her was enough to drive the breath from him. How sometimes he missed out on what she said for the soft lilt of her voice. He wanted to say that if she were with him, then nothing could ever be wrong in his world again.

In that moment, he considered asking her to come with him to Yellowstone. He felt the question boiling up in his chest. He drew in air, then hesitated. What could he say? Come with me? Leave your work, your friends, home, everything you know and love?

No.

Sudden certainty tightened in his chest. He couldn’t promise her anything. He closed his mouth and smiled instead at the applauding crowd and his beaming mother.

Whatever he said couldn’t guarantee her permanence or stability, and after all she’d been through, she deserved at least that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

L
IAM
PROPPED
HIS
feet on a milk crate and leaned back in the spindle chair that made up the only furniture in his rental house’s living room. When the music playing from his docked iPhone shuffled to another tune, he glanced at the lit screen—3:00 a.m.

Another sleepless night.

Given his upcoming morning shift, he should be snoozing. Since Mary Ann’s wedding, however, a driving restlessness kept him up most nights. He couldn’t stop thinking about his duet with Vivie, the feel of her when they’d danced, how well she’d fit in with his family. Most of all, he mulled over his Yellowstone move. Three weeks from now he’d be across the country. Wouldn’t be responsible for her or Button.

The thought should have calmed him. He needed distance to stop his growing attachment. Yet, whenever he imagined his unencumbered future, emptiness filled him. He’d miss her. No doubt about it. She’d become an important part of his life. He wouldn’t be whole without her.

A coyote called in the distance, its lonely cry hanging in the dark.

Extra Pickles picked up her russet head and whined.

“Big baby,” he murmured affectionately, then leaned down to rub her soft ears. “Soon you’ll be listening to wolves in Yellowstone. But I’ll be with you.”

Her long pink tongue flashed and wetness smeared his palm.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

He wiped his hand on his sweatpants and paced to the window. Outside, a quarter moon rode on waves of clouds. A breeze blew through the screen, colder than it’d been in months. Bright eyes flashed in the oak tree beyond the front stoop, an owl looking for a meal in the rustling grass. Now that August waned, animals scurried and flitted more, anxious to migrate, hibernate, weather the harsh winter ahead.

Change.

It was part of life, if only Vivie could accept it. Would he want her to move with him if she was up for it? Before the wedding, he’d rejected having anyone permanent in his life. Now, he wondered.

No one understood him the way Vivie did. Maybe her own tragedy helped. Or her caring, gentle nature. She understood his past and how it influenced him today. Before her, he hadn’t examined his old wounds. Didn’t want to bleed again. She made him see things differently. Know himself better.

But was it enough? Could he be tied down? Vivie deserved nothing less than a true commitment, and until he knew for sure, he didn’t dare speak his heart. It’d kill him to go, but better that than risk hurting her. He cared about her too much.

He continued to stare aimlessly and found himself singing along with a Springsteen tune, the familiar lyrics making his eyes sting. Still, he belted it out until the song finished and saluted his fallen friends. He hoped they heard him. Had sung along, too, the way they had in the old days.

He waited for memory’s crushing weight to bury him. Instead, light filled him. He pictured his battle buddies hollering off-key, grinning, as a taste of home took them from their nightmare. Vivie was right. His singing had helped. Maybe he hadn’t saved them in the traditional way, but he’d made a difference. Eased their lives...

He ambled to his fridge and studied the near-empty shelves. A carton of milk, eggs so old he didn’t remember buying them and a jug of soda. He grabbed the pop, poured himself a glass and leaned against the counter. Taking a gulp, he contemplated the bare floor, imagining the kitchen table he’d never purchased. Just as well. Less to move. Just his bedroom furniture, belongings and...

And what?

What else did he have?

The thought made him wince. Strange. It had never bothered him before. He hadn’t wanted things weighing him down. Vivie was right, having nothing made leaving easier. Yet now he wasn’t so sure it was material goods that mattered. Leaving Vivie felt impossible.

He polished off his drink, rinsed the glass and headed back to the living room, Extra Pickles hot on his heels.

“You don’t need to go everywhere with me, you know.”

A damp nose nudged into his hand again for a petting. He stroked his collie’s long fur, his fingers trailing through the silky strands on her back as her tail thumped. Needy dog. She trailed him the moment he got home. Loved hiking with him. Fishing. He felt bad he’d neglected her lately because of Button, but he couldn’t risk her spooking the cub...or worse, have the growing bear hurt his pet. But he missed her when she wasn’t around.

He was capable of one attachment at least.

That’d been enough before. Now...he didn’t know what to think...his thoughts and feelings tangling in a knot he couldn’t unravel.

A pile of envelopes by his front door caught his eye. The mail. At least he could be productive while awake. Pay some bills. That was enough to put anyone to sleep.

He grabbed the stack and nearly tripped over Extra Pickles as she dodged in front of him on his way to the bedroom. He stopped and crouched, cupping her narrow face.

“You are too much, tonight. What am I going to do with you?” He scratched the sweet spot above her left shoulder and her back leg jittered. “Now lie down. I’m doing some work.”

She followed instructions, lying across his feet beneath his computer desk.

“Great. Who needs slippers?” he mused out loud, but kept his toes under her warm, heaving side. There was no denying Extra Pickles. Pointless to even try.

Fifteen minutes later he’d paid his electric and phone bills but hesitated about notifying them to turn off service at the end of next month. Time enough for that.

Yet an urgent sense seized him. A need to know. Now. Was he going or not? Could he stay...for Vivie?

The writing on the next envelope caught his eye. Mary Ann. He tore it open and discovered a politely worded thank-you note for his wedding gift followed by a more typical missive at the bottom. “Check your email, jerk.”

Nice.

She had to mean the private account she’d set up for him last year. The one he rarely used. He had his work account. The people who needed him got to him through that. Personal emails... He never thought much about them since his family wasn’t big on communicating except though Mary Ann, who called...often.

What had she sent him?

Sure enough, her message appeared among a bunch of junk emails. The subject line: “Check you out!”

He clicked on her attachment and his heart sped when a picture of him and Vivie singing at the wedding popped up.

Her beautiful face glowed up at him as he played, her cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. There was no mistaking that look. Or at least he hoped not. Love. It had to be...because his own face held the same, intense, passionate expression as he gazed down at her.

She might love him. Want him, flaws and all.

The thought pinged through him until it settled into his chest. How could he have imagined tiring of her company? Feeling claustrophobic with a woman who knew him so well and cared about him still? For a moment, he pictured a life without her and it terrified him. He wanted her to look at him that way again. Always. Wanted the feelings she brought out in him. Wanted her. And that wouldn’t happen if he and Extra Pickles left the Adirondacks alone.

But would her affection change if she moved to Yellowstone with him? Without Button to bring them together, would her feelings last? How would she cope with leaving her friends, her business? He didn’t want her to resent him or regret being with him. But it could happen. How to know?

The music in the living room shuffled to another song, reminding him that he hadn’t turned it off. In a few steps, he grabbed the iPhone out of the docking system and scrolled to his contacts list. He clicked on Vivie’s name to see another picture of her and studied her gorgeous smile, hoping for clarity.

Nothing. Just the same longing that filled him each time he saw her.

His thumb slid across her cheek and he imagined her soft skin.

A familiar voice stopped him as he reentered his bedroom.

“Hello? Liam?”

He’d been thinking so much about Vivie. Was he dreaming up her voice, too?

“Liam? Are you there?”

Her husky voice reached out to him. A warm hug when he needed one. He glanced down at his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw he’d called her.

An accident?

Probably not. But he wouldn’t have imagined she’d answer his call since she didn’t get cell service up at her house.

“Liam?”

He brought the phone to his ear and gently pushed Extra Pickles, who’d wrapped her paws around his legs, away.

“Vivie.”

“Why are you calling so late?”

“An accident. Maybe. I don’t know. How did you get this call?”

He sat in his desk chair and gazed at their picture.

“I’m actually outside. Once in a blue moon I get a signal out here. Glad my phone was in my coat pocket or I wouldn’t have heard it.”

He glanced out his window at the quarter moon and imagined Vivie under it. Alone. Unprotected.

“You shouldn’t be up so late. Go inside. Lock your door.”

Her soft laugh sent a shiver across his skin.

“I’m not afraid anymore, Liam. Remember? Plus you said the poachers were rare out here.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re safe, Vivie. Go inside.”

A sigh sounded through the phone. “Fine.”

He heard a door open, then close.

“Happy?” she asked after a moment.

“No,” he admitted, the truth rushing from him too fast to stop.

“What’s going on? Why are you up so late?”

He stared into her beautiful amber eyes on the screen. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Silence stretched and his palms grew damp. “Vivie?”

“Yes,” she said faintly. “I’m here. I can’t sleep, either, for the same reason.”

“Thinking about yourself?” He couldn’t resist.

“Exactly,” she said drily, then sighed. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Maybe we’re making this too complicated.”

She said something indecipherable, the call breaking up. An image of him struggling to reach her, thousands of miles away, gripped him. He felt himself dissolving along with her words, imagining a day without her voice. The thought struck like a blow.

“Liam? Are you there?” she asked. Her voice clearer. Stronger. As if she was close. The way he needed her to be, he realized.

“Always. Or I want to be.”

Silence hung between them again, briefly. He could almost feel her soft exhale before she said, “Liam. I don’t know what you want.”

An idea struck and the dim room seemed to brighten around him.

“My shift starts in a few hours, but I’d like to pick you up later, for a date. Say—seven thirty?”

“I’ll be ready, though I’m not sure for what...”

“That’s what we’re going to figure out.”

“I— Okay,” she said. “Seven thirty, and—”

Static filled his ear and he glanced down at the empty screen. Call dropped. Not that it troubled him. What he had to say, he wanted to say right. Stolen moments before heading to work weren’t nearly enough.

Not when he wanted to spend forever with her.

* * *

“W
HERE
ARE
WE
GOING
?”
Vivie heard the tremor of excitement in her voice later that evening, felt it in her body. She gazed out the tinted window of Liam’s SUV and marveled at his transformation. Never before had she seen him so...so...carefree.

He laid a warm hand on her knee and squeezed, sending a jitter of excitement flooding through her. His lazy smile lifted the right side of his mouth and he took his eyes off the road for a moment to peer at her.

“Whiteface. We’re going to the castle.”

She returned his irresistible smile and settled back in the seat. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Maggie says it’s beautiful.” A thought occurred and she frowned. “But don’t they close the building at eight?”

Liam nodded. His eyes slid toward her again, hazel depths sparkling. “Got it covered. Called in a favor from a friend with Park Service.”

“Oh. So we’ll have it to ourselves?”

His mouth curved up again. “Yes.”

With that one word, her senses flipped on and suddenly everything around her—the rising, winding road, the tree-covered mountains, the birds wheeling in a purple sky—looked brighter, more vibrant than she’d ever seen them. Her lungs expanded and she breathed deeply, filled with expectancy...but for what?

She cared about Liam, loved him. The depth of her feelings had become clear when she’d spotted him pacing by his family’s apartment window, anxiously waiting, the night of her near mugging. Who else but Liam worried about her like that? Cared and supported her? He didn’t want to get attached, yet he stayed beside her through everything, big and small, from studying for a certification test to fighting off a fire.

Since they only had a few weeks before he left, she didn’t dare hope for anything other than a pleasant evening with the man she’d fallen for. Still—her heart leaped every time she glanced at his handsome profile. The sensation of his strong hand on her leg, his thumb brushing her knee, filled her with an electric awareness.

When they reached the tollhouse, a bearded man leaned out.

“Hey, Liam. See you’ve got your date with you.”

She felt heat spreading up her neck and into her cheeks. She wished she was his girlfriend, not a casual date.

“Looks like a clear view today.” Liam nodded toward the narrow road that rose, then disappeared around a hairpin turn.

“Had a lot of visitors, but they’re mostly gone now. Should have the place to yourselves by the time you get up there.” The man turned a sign over, the words Memorial Highway Closed visible.

“Thanks, Joe. I owe you.”

The man grinned, sheepish. “Aw. If you hadn’t found my Hermione, don’t know what I would have done. This evens the score.” Joe tipped his cap. “Have fun, you two.”

Liam waved and they roared up the steep incline, a rocky cliff wall to their left and bedrock boulders interspersed with wildflowers to their right, the world dropping away beyond it.

“Hermione?” She raised an eyebrow, imagining what Liam had done to save this damsel in distress.