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Liam took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. They stood close enough that she felt the warmth of him. “Then let me be plain. I wanted ye here. I wanted ye to see this. Because whether ye like it or not, Beitris ye matter to me.”

Her breath hitched.

She hated how easily he could unravel her.

Beitris stood frozen, her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. Though she told herself she wasn’t, she waited. Because something in Liam’s eyes had shifted. Gone was the forced cheer, the careful tones, the guarded distance he usually kept. What remained was raw and unshielded.

Liam stepped closer, slow and deliberate. Not trapping her, never that, but inviting her into the space between them.

“Beitris,” he said softly, her name leaving him like an exhale he’d been holding for too long. “I’ve no skill with words, and I’ve made a damned mess of things between us. I ken that. But I want…” His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard. “I want ye to understand one thing, and I’ll speak it plain because I cannae keep it down any longer.”

Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs.

He continued, voice low and rough with truth, “I care for ye. Deeply. More than I’ve cared for anyone outside my own blood. More than I meant to. More than is wise.” His gaze didn’t waver, even as his breath shook. “When I thought I’d no place in this world anymore, ye were the one constant. Ye held me together when I felt like nothing. And that scared me, because I didnae feel worthy of ye.”

Her lips parted, but no sound rose.

“So I pulled back,” Liam admitted, shame flickering across his face. “I thought if ye distanced yerself, ye’d be spared the weight of me. But all I did was hurt ye, and myself. And I will not do that again, Beitris. Not if ye’ll allow me to do better.”

Silence settled around them, soft as falling snow.

Beitris stared at him, emotions cresting so swiftly she could hardly breathe. The sincerity in his eyes struck her like an arrow. She wanted to run. To flee from the enormity of it. From the risk. From the way her heart felt too big for her chest.

He must have read the fear in her expression, because he stepped back, not away, but enough to give her room to breathe. “I’m not asking for an answer. Or forgiveness. I only wanted ye to ken the truth.”

But that made it worse, because she did ken. And because she had her own truth twisting inside her like a living thing.

“Liam…” Her voice trembled. “Ye frighten me.”

His eyes tightened not with anger, but with a grief so gentle it nearly undid her. “Aye,” he whispered. “I ken that, too.”

She shook her head, struggling for breath. “Not ye. Not who ye are. But the way I feel when I’m near ye. The way my heart behaves as if it has a will of its own.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I hate that I cannae control it. Hate that after all the hurt, part of me still wants to be with ye.”

The words choked her, too fragile to force out.

Liam’s voice softened to something almost reverent. “Beitris… look at me.”

She did.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze and found him watching her as though she were the very miracle he’d wished for.

“I will never ask ye to stop being afraid,” he murmured. “But I’ll stand with ye through it. Always.”

Her breath shuddered out of her. And despite all her fear, all her caution, all the tight knots she’d twisted around her own heart, she stepped toward him.

A single step.

It was all he needed.

Liam’s hand lifted slowly, giving her every chance to pull away and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. His touch was warm, trembling faintly. She closed her eyes, leaning just a fraction into his palm.

He let out a shaky breath, as if that tiny gesture unraveled him completely.

“Beitris,” he whispered, her name a prayer. “May I?”

Her heart flipped, stuttering into a wild, fragile rhythm.

“Aye,” she breathed. “Ye may.”