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I glance at the clock. 1 am. Usually, I'd be at work, slaving away under the watchful eye of Ivy. But today, after I called her and vaguely mentioned needing to rest, she insisted I stay home.
She saw the pain in my eyes last night, and I guess my voice must've betrayed more fatigue than I intended.
I don't mind, though. The night is mine, and right now, all I can think about is Liam. Sleep can wait. Rest can wait. I can't.
With newfound determination, I rush out of my house and into my car. I've spent too long waiting. I made myself a promise of two years without men, a promise that shattered the moment I met Liam.
His image fills my mind as I drive towards the hospital, the darkness of the night outside enveloping my car. It's darker than last night, but that doesn't bother me. I know where I'm going, and I know who I'm going to see. My heart throbs with anticipation, matching the rhythm of the tires against the road.
Liam. My light in the darkest tunnel. I might not believe in love, but for the first time in a long time, I'm willing to believe in the possibility of it. And that's a start, isn't it?
The drive is a blur of quiet streets and the soft hum of the radio playing in the background. It's just enough to fill the silence, a gentle distraction from the storm of thoughts swirling in my head.
I pull into the hospital parking lot, my heart pounding in my chest. What am I supposed to do now? I hadn't thought this far ahead. Do I just walk in, acting as if I'm a patient? Should I wait for him to leave?
A sudden fear grips me - what if he's not even working tonight? The harsh realization that I had acted on impulse without a clear plan dawns on me, and I huff out a frustrated breath. I leave the car and start walking toward the hospital.
With a groan, I remember the real reason I'm here. Liam's shirt is still in my car. As I turn to retrieve it, a sudden touch on my shoulder startles me. I instinctively jerk forward, a shout escaping my lips as I twist around, my hand clenched in a fist.
"I know how to fight!" I warn, my heart hammering against my ribs.
But as I whirl around, I'm met with Liam's smirking face. He raises his hands defensively, trying to suppress his laughter.
"Easy there, Kate. I don't want any problems," he teases, chuckling softly.
My heart begins to slow as I let out a shaky laugh, trying to regain my composure.
"You scared me," I admit, my hand coming up to rest over my racing heart.
"I could say the same. What are you doing here?" he asks, concern flickering in his eyes. "Is the pain back?" He gestures toward my stomach, and I quickly shake my head.
"No, no, I'm fine," I reassure him. "I found your shirt in my car. Thought you might want it back."
Liam steps closer, a playful glint in his eye.
"I thought you preferred seeing me without it," he says, his voice low and teasing.
I roll my eyes, a shy laugh escaping me. He's standing close, too close, and I can't help but appreciate the sight of him. His white shirt strains against his muscular shoulders, barely containing the raw power beneath. The lamplight casts shadows across his face, accentuating the rugged angles of his jaw and scruffy beard.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus.
"You wish, doctor," I reply, smiling at him. Maybe this impulsive trip wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Liam's laughter vibrates against my body as he pulls me closer, his hand resting lightly on my waist. I feel his heat, the strength in his chest pressed against mine. My heart hammers in my chest as his other hand lifts to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"Is my shirt really the reason you came?" His voice is soft, searching, his emerald eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight above us.
I swallow hard. His question hangs heavy between us, and I must fight the urge to spill my heart out to him. I want to tell him that it wasn't about the shirt; it’s him I need. That I craved his touch, his warmth, his presence. But fear holds me back, fear of rejection and the unknown.
Instead, I muster a small smile and nod, "Yeah, Liam. Why else would I be here?"
He doesn't answer, but something shifts in his eyes, a slight flicker of disappointment that quickly vanishes. My heart aches at the sight, but I have to stay strong. I can't make it easy for him. If he genuinely wants me, he must show it.
"Did you take your pills?" he asks, changing the subject, and I nod, my voice betraying me. He nods, then asks, "So where is my shirt?"
I tell him it's in my car, and he offers to walk me there. We move in silence, tension building in the air. I can't help but feel the doubt gnawing at my heart. Was our night together nothing more than a beautiful dream? Did he regret it? Or did he only want one thing from me?
We reach my car, and I lean in to retrieve his shirt. Our fingers brush as I hand it to him, and electricity sparks through me. Our eyes meet and hold. His gaze is intense, filled with a hunger that mirrors my own.
