Chapter 7: I Don't Know How To Stop

You remember enough to argue,” I shoot back.

That gets his attention.

He spins to face me, and there’s something in his eyes, something wild, conflicted, desperate.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asks. “You think I don’t… fight myself every time you speak to me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you expect me to admit something I’m not allowed to feel.”

My beating stops. Actually stops.

“Not allowed by who?” I whisper.

He hesitates. “By myself.”

There it is another truth. One he didn’t mean to spill.

I move a little closer. “Liam… you’re hiding something.”

“And you keep pushing,” he fires back, stepping toward me too, “like you’re 9 afraid of anything.”

“Maybe I’m tired of pretending that night didn’t mean something.”

That stops him again. His chest lifts. Falls. Sharp. Suddenly. Like he’s the one who just got hit.

“You think it meant something?” he asks softly.

“You think it didn’t?”

His quiet is louder than words.

My voice drops. “Liam… tell me what you remember.”

He closes his eyes like he’s in pain. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He opens his eyes. And they burn.

“I remember wanting you to leave,” he says. “I remember thinking you would make things complicated. I remember you smiling like you knew something I didn’t.”

I freeze. “I wasn’t smiling.”

“You were. And I hated it.” He steps closer. “Because it made me want to pull you closer.”

The air leaves my lungs.

“And that’s where everything went wrong,” he says.

I look at him. Hard. “You almost kissed me, Liam. Why?”

He drops his eyes again. “I said I don’t know.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“I’m not”

“You are.”

He clenches his hands at his sides.

I breathe out slowly. “Tell me the truth. What are you so scared of?”

His voice is barely heard. “You.”

My chest twists painfully. “Why would you be scared of me?”

“Because you ruin things,” he whispers. “You ruin them without even trying.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth.”

I step closer. “If I ruin things, then why didn’t you walk away that night?”

“I tried.”

“You failed.”

He sucks in a breath, angry, frustrated. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because if I tell you the truth, you won’t be able to look at me the same.”

His voice trembles.

And that’s when I understand something.

He’s not scared of what happened that night.

He’s scared of what it means.

“Liam,” I say softly, “look at me.”

He doesn’t.

“Liam.”

Slowly/painfully he lifts his eyes to mine.

His eyes are red. Not with tears, but with tiredness. With pressure. With something he’s been holding for too long.

“What did you see in the flashback?” he asks suddenly.

I swallow. “Your hand on my face.”

He flinches.

“And then?” he whispers.

“And then you leaned in…”

His breath shudders.

“…and I didn’t know if it was an accident or a choice.”

A long beat of silence.

Then Liam says in a low, forced voice, “It wasn’t an accident.”

My heart races. “Then why pretend you don’t remember?”

“Because remembering makes it real. And I’m not allowed to want what I wanted that night.”

“Who says you’re not allowed?”

He doesn’t answer.

There’s fear flashing beneath his skin. Panic and something or something he refuses to say out loud.

But I see it.

I see all of it.

“Liam,” I say, “tell me what happened after you leaned in.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I stopped. I pulled away.”

“That’s not what I felt.”

He looks at me sharply. “What did you feel?”

“That you didn’t want to stop.”

His breath catches.

“You’re wrong,” he says.

“No,” I say. “I’m not.”

His voice rises, a rare loss of control. “You think you know me? You think you understand what was going through my head?”

“Tell me then.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“Fine.” He steps forward too close, too fast. “You want the truth? The truth is I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t careful. And I let something take over that should’ve been dead years ago.”

My brows pull in. “Dead?”

He swallows. “Feelings. Needs. Weakness. Call it whatever you want. I buried it a long time ago.”

“Then why did it come back that night?”

He breaks.

Just breaks.

And I see it the moment he can’t lie anymore.

“Because you came back,” he says, voice raw.

My breath stops again.

He presses a hand to his face like he regrets every word. “You walked into that wedding like you didn’t belong to any world I understood. And for a moment just one my guard slipped.”

“And you almost kissed me,” I say softly.

He laughs, but there’s no fun in it. “I should’ve left.”

“But you didn’t.”

He looks at me then. Really looks. “I didn’t.”

Another truth.

Another weight.

I swallow hard. “Liam… why are you fighting this so hard?”

His voice drops, rough and low. “Because if I don’t fight it, I’ll want more. And wanting more is dangerous.”

“For who?”

“For both of us.”

A pause.

A long, painful pause.

“And that’s the part you don’t understand,” he says softly. “You think this is some harmless… spark. But it’s not. It’s messy. It’s wrong. And it changes everything.”

“Everything was already changing,” I say. “You just didn’t want to admit it.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” he asks.

“It’s fear,” I say. “Yours.”

He steps back as if I physically struck him.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “You are.”

He turns away, pacing. His steps are sharp, restless, full of a storm he can’t control.

And then he stops.

“I almost didn't kiss you,” he says quietly.

My stomach drops.

“I wanted to,” he continues. “That’s the difference.”

The room tilts.

My voice goes soft. “So what stopped you?”

He turns back toward means for the first time, his eyes are naked with truth.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he whispers.

The words hit like a blow.

And then

Before I can breathe, before I can speak, before I can understand

He turns and walks away from me.

No reason.

No sign.

No chance to pull him back.

Just five crushing words…

“I don’t know how to stop.”

And the door closes behind him.